#fully standing in doorways DEMANDING a hug

[organchordsandlightning]

clocking artemy in for his 'rescuing abandoned babies' shift at the plague house factory

[thepastdied]

Do You Feel It? p.1

eddie munson x reader

Part 2 <-

Warnings: blood, violence, knives, sexy stuff

In short, Eddie is obsessed with you and breaks into your house. He's not very nice.

It's a stormy night and you're home alone.

You stand in front of a glass sliding door that leads outside to your back porch. It's summer, yet you shiver as your eyes remain locked on Eddie's. Your legs are barely able to keep you up as you shift your weight from one foot to the other - your mind racing at an alarming speed. Both of your hands are gripping the handle of a baseball bat that is pointed to the man who stands directly in front of you behind the glass. It was the closest thing to a weapon within arms reach, and you were so terrified that anything would do.

You hiccuped as a sob spilled from your lips which were tainted red with his blood. The air felt cold on your skin, the new tears keeping your cheeks wet. Your lips quivered as you croaked out pleas.

Eddie harshly bangs his fist on the glass, thick rings scratching against the surface, demanding for you to let him in. He too has a weapon of his own; a broken beer bottle that he had fixed himself. Your eyes can't help but flick over to it, fully aware of what more damage it could do to you.

"I won't hurt you, I swear." He puts his hands up in mock surrender, sticking his tongue out to lick the blood from the corner of his mouth. He smiled sickeningly, though if you didn't know any better it would seem almost sweet.

In the course of the past 30 minutes..

You had become a complete mess.

Your top stretched out and hanging loosly on your skin (and in some areas torn), hair pulled out from your braid it was previously in, and a mixture of yours, and his, blood in various places on your skin.

Previously

He had broken into your house while you slept, scaring the life out of you as you heard toiletries fall from the bathroom. It could have been your cat, you quickly thought, but just as fast realized it's not possible because he was currently laying right beside you and just as curious about the noise as you were. You glanced at the clock. It was 2:17am.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard a more dense thump and a mumbled "Shit-", positive that it was someone coming into your home. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your body broke out in goosebumps. Your head felt light, vision not fully focused, and your breathing stilled. You could hear your blood swooshing in your ears.

There is always a steak knife hidden between your mattress and box spring- just something you put there to feel safer after watching a horror movie with your friends as a young teen. You slid off your mattress, entire body buzzing with fear as you crouch down and feel for the knife. Tears well up in your eyes as you take a deep breath. Your bedroom door is wide open, and you certainly can't run to your parents' to get to the phone.

Just as you were going to pick up your cat and hide under the bed, you heard a sharp tap on the wall directly next to your doorway. Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth with a shaking hand and slid behind your door, sinking down to your knees and hugging them to your chest. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage so hard that you are sure the intruder could hear it.

You peered through the crack of the door hinge. There was no one, which scared you even more. There was a tap again, followed by a loud scrape.

Right on the door.

"Hey..." The man whispered, his face coming into view where you peered out.

You choked out a loud gasp and fell backwards, the knife you were holding scraping your palm as your back hit the floor.

"Oh, shit- I didn't mean to scare you." He shook his head as he lighly laughed and placed a hand on his cheek, eyes wide in mock concern at your reaction. It quickly faded into an emotionless stare- tongue in cheek, hand roughly falling to his side (as if you're wasting his time) and his other tightening around a broken beer bottle.

He reeked of beer.

You immediately whipped around to run to the hallway though he was faster at roughly grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you back. He had no mask on, clearly not trying to hide his identity.

And you knew exactly who he was: Eddie Munson, the silly boy from History.

He grunted and mumbled profanities as he wrestled you to the floor.

"Jesus! Calm down, will you?" He gritted his teeth as his grip on your forearms tightened.

You stilled and looked into his eyes, waiting for any sort of explanation as to why he broke into your home and attacked you.

Eddie sighed and gave you a lazy smile.

"Wow.. you're even more beautiful up close." His tongue quickly wets his bottom lip.

He leaned down, his fluffy curls draping around his head and brushing against your cheeks. His eyes darked, narrowing as you flinched your head away from him. His breath fanned across your face as he leaned in.

"Do you feel it too? That spark when we first spoke.. I complimented you in that cute little sun dress, and you blushed. I got shivers when you looked into my eyes, did you?" Eddie's pupils were blown wide as his eyes danced across your face, deeply inhaling through his nose.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your mind was blank. You didn't realize you were crying until you felt tears running down your cheeks and to your neck. Of course you remember the first time you met. The air had been sucked out of your lungs in that moment; he was so handsome and pretty that you were paralyzed. You've talked several times after that during your history class.

"Do. you. remember?" He cleared his throat to get your attention and tightened his grip.

"Y-yes. Yes, I remember." Your voice cracked.

He hummed, a sign you supposed meant he was satisfied with the answer.

"Ya know, I've never felt that before." A hand released one of your arms and moved to your cheek, a soft thumb wiping away a tear.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you today. After you bent down to pick up my Hellfire notebook I dropped. Shit- I got so hard. Your tits were about to fall out of your top." He chuckled, eyes crinkling in the cute way they do, and shamelessly moved his eyes to your chest.

"I guess you could say it's made me a teensy bit crazy. Just thinking about what you'd look like under me.." Eddie's hand splayed across your throat, thumb smoothing over your skin.

"I'm just sayin', I'm not into that rape shit. Wouldn't want to waste my vi.. whatever. I won't do anything until you want me to. I'll wait." He smirked as if he were confident he would be able to do so.

Why did he have to pursue you this way? He could have asked you out like a normal person. He was fucking insane to think that you'd give yourself to him after he broke into your home and tackled you to the floor.

"Why the fuck would I want you to touch me?" You spat at him, some fear draining from your blood and quickly being replaced with anger.

"You broke into my house, Eddie!" You started to flail your legs and, to no avail, tried to writhe out from underneath him.

He scoffed and clenched his teeth.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch, y/n!? Can't even give me a chance, huh? Is it because I'm a freak?" His eyes were wide as he yelled in your face, face becoming red as he got more pissed.

You flinched away and squeezed your eyes shut, violently shaking your head. There is something wrong with him. He isn't making any sense.

"I heard you talking to Robin. Your parents won't be home all weekend, so we have plenty of time, sweetheart." Fuck. You mentally slapped yourself for even talking about that in public, it's a death wish if the wrong person is listening in. What he doesn't know is Robin will be over in the early afternoon.

His head dipped into your neck where he planted a sloppy kiss before trailing them up to ghost over your lips.

Panic spread throughout your body and you flung your head forward, your head smashing his mouth. He instantly let go of your other hand and falls onto his back, wiping the pool of blood from his lips. His eyes narrowed as you scurried away from him, nostrils flaring while he lunged forward to grab your ankle.

Fortunately, you were faster. And you ran as fast as you could down the stairs and toward your front door, Eddie hot on your heels. You barely managed to grab the door handle before he grabbed you by your hair, a shriek loudly echoing through your house.

"So you're just going to play hard to get then. That's fine. I like the chase. It's soo exciting." His fingers were tightly woven in your hair, back pressed firmly against his torso as he held your head against his shoulder.

"You planned this, didn't you? You got some sick, possessive crush on me and decided I was your target." You whispered. There is no getting out of this, and you have come to that hard realization. You feel hopeless.

"Bingo, pretty girl. I wouldn't call you a target though, hun, you're more special than that. I don't plan on hurting you. Just some fun, yeah?" He untangled his fingers from your hair and wrapped both arms around your waist, pinning your arms against your body.

His face settled on your shoulder and he gently swayed you back and forth, humming contently as if you're some happy couple slow dancing at prom. If only that were true. A loud clap of thunder causes you to flinch while Eddie hushes you.

You felt a dull ache in your leg soon followed by a sharp pain. You hiss as you try to take your balance off of it. Eddie's arms hold you more securely as he moved his head to look down. There was a long gash along the outside of your thigh where heavy blood was spilling from. You sharply inhaled and began to cry as the adrenaline wore off, the pain finally settling in.

"S-shit! When did that.. I- I didn't-". Eddie gulped as you went limp in his hold and slid to the floor.

You felt weak and couldn't run no matter how much you wanted to. You must have scraped against his beer bottle in the process of getting away from him. Your back was now against your front door as Eddie ripped the sleeve off his red plaid overshirt and began to tie it around your thigh.

You stared at him blankly. You wanted to kill him. For talking to you that day. For having a crush on him. For thinking that you'd date some day. For letting him deceive you. There was panic in his eyes as he examined the rest of your body. He mumbled apologies as he secured the knot.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you.. I didn't know that happened-" He started.

"Get the fuck away from me." You hissed at him and kicked him harshly with your unwounded leg. Your voice was low, but strong. "If you leave now, I'll never speak of this to anyone."

You couldn't even cry anymore. You were just exhausted and in shock that you were even in this situation.

He winced as your foot collided with his hip. Those big dark eyes snapped to yours and in less than a second the concern and panic was gone. The bastard smirked.

"Thanks for pulling me down from that cloud, almost got all soft." He sighed loudly as he stood up, pushing himself up by slapping his hands over his knees. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned. You glanced at his exposed skin and quickly looked away. Eddie tipped his head to the side and stared into space in deep thought. There was an awkward silence for a moment before he snapped causing you to jump and hold your chest.

"Hah! In my van, fuck, I forgot the weed in my van. Be right back, honey." He walked over to your console table and grabbed the keys. He turned his head toward you as he twirled the keys around his finger and pocketed them.

You waited for him to walk out the back before turning the lock on the door behind you and moving quickly to the dining room. He left the glass sliding door open, his truck just at the bottom of the porch. Just as you appeared he was shutting his van door and staring back at you. You slammed the glass door shut so fast that you thought it would break, and he casually walked up to the other side just as you locked it. The rain was loud and coming down hard. He seemed unbothered. You quickly grabbed the baseball bat that sat next to door frame. It's better than nothing.

Eddie shook his head at you and his shoulders shook as he laughed in a way that said 'dumb bitch'. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys.

"Please.. no." You held onto the lock latch for extra security. You began to sob, and you're not sure why now. Maybe it's because you have a sliver of hope now since he was no longer in the house.

His brows furrowed as he examined the keys, rain splattering around him. You saw his adams apple bob as he gulped and looked between you and the keys a few times.

"Jesus Christ! FUCK!" He snapped into a fit, punching the glass hard before grabbing the handle and roughly pulling at it over and over. The keys on the table were car keys, which you had already known. The smile you gave him made him still his deperate attempt to open the door and roll his shoulders, stretching his neck from side to side.

Present

"I won't hurt you, I swear." He puts his hands up in mock surrender, sticking his tongue out to lick the blood from the corner of his mouth. He smiled sickeningly, though if you didn't know any better it would seem almost sweet.

You were shaking as you tried to think of what to do. The phone, there's only two: one in your parents' room, one in the living room. But what if you let Eddie out of your sight? He could run anywhere.

You were pulled out of your head due to the sound of him running down the porch steps. You moved forward and pressed your head to the glass in panic as you watched him grab a large rock from the garden. No... no no no no.

The hard thump of the rock being dropped on the wooden floor of the porch could be felt where you were standing. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, blood still profusely coming out, and pointed to the rock with the broken bottle he still held.

"That-" His head was turned fully toward you, only a couple feet away and separated just by the glass.

"- is going through this fucking door if you don't be a good girl and open it for me." He lightly tapped the glass in front of your face with the bottle. So lightly that you could barely hear it, that made it more creepy- the gentleness.

It was quiet for second until his voice boomed against the door.

"Did you hear me?!" He shook his wet hair back and forth, curls sticking to his face.

You remained silent, fully aware that it only pissed him off more. You couldn't speak anyway, your throat was hoarse and sore from crying.

Eddie spit at the glass directly in front of you, a huge splatter of blood covering your view of his face. He leaned forward and his laugh vibrated against the glass as he licked it, smearing the blood around. You cringed as you watched his tongue glide over the crimson liquid and glass, suddenly feeling heat at your core when he moaned.

You swallowed thickly, refusing to acknowledge the burning in your body. The ache in your leg wasn't worth your attention anymore.

You were pulled from your daze as he lifted his arm, pointer finger moving over his blood canvas and drawing a simple heart. He gave you a tongue-in-cheek seductive grin.

"For you, baby." He tapped next to the simple drawing.

Your heart skipped a beat as he stepped to the side, blood painting no longer obscuring your view, and wiped his mouth with his arm. The bleeding seemed to slow down. Not that you cared.

His breath was hot on the glass as he breathed on it, puffs of fog forming while his forehead pressed against the warm surface as his big, pleading, pretty brown eyes looked at you. A lovesick puppy.

You looked him over. The rain matted down his usually crazy hair making his curls more defined. The remaining blood on his mouth was mixing with the heavy rain and dripping down his chin, disappearing under the collar of his black Megadeth shirt. He had a bruise on his right eyebrow, which was probably from his fall in the bathroom. His big eyes were blinking at you, suddenly patient compared to just moments ago. He involuntarily shivered as a gust of wind hit him, though he seemed to not even notice.

This whole situation is fucked up.

You put your face closer and continued to examine him as if he were a zoo animal. His brows twitched in confusion, though he remained still so as not to scare you away. His sardonic grin was gone, and you hoped it wouldn't come back. You didn't trust him, still. But maybe if you did as he asked, this would just blow over. Then again, he is being a sadistic fuck. But being separated by the glass made you feel more safe.. making you realize how much it turns you on.

A war was waging in your head.

You hiccuped as your crying slowed, using the collar of your oversized night shirt to wipe your tears. You took a deep breath and puffed your cheeks out as you exhaled. You probably looked gross. Not that you cared what he thought.

You nibbled on your bottom lip and were unable to meet his eyes. He was so close that you can see his light freckles, eyelashes, the perfect curve of his nose and that jawline- God, that soft jawline. You moved away from the door quickly and walked to the kitchen to grab a butchers knife. Eddie tensed and moved along the door so he could keep his eyes on you. He relaxed, a bit, when you approached him again. You sniffled and held up the knife, the bat laying on the dining table just behind you.

"You're going to trash that bottle- and anything else that would be considered a weapon." You stood firmly as you tilted your head up to look him dead in the eyes.

His mouth was hanging slightly open, some rain water dripping from his bottom lip. You watched them fall, and he noticed. Lightning flashes. His lips turn up.

Without even looking, eyes locked onto yours, he blindly whipped the bottle into the wooded area off your porch. He put both hands up, fingers spread wide and wiggling, eyes half lidded while the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"Pockets." You point to his hip, and he quickly turns his pockets inside out before stuffing them back in.

"Let's start over, sweetheart." His chest puffed out as he ran his fingers through his hair and fixed his t-shirt that had been untucked from his jeans, fingers then clasping behind his back while he rocked back and forth in an 'I'm waiting' motion. His shirt was stuck to his skin, wet and heavy, and you could see his broad chest. Sweetheart.. you liked that. When your eyes met his, he suppressed a laugh.

You blushed so hard that your tears probably evaporated from the heat. He caught you gawking.

You gave him a once over and looked down at yourself. You were in a huge oversized shirt that went mid thigh, nighttime bra, and lacy underwear. You considered going to change, but Eddie knocks on the glass, decently, and startles you.

"Sweetheart...?" His palms were on the window now, one moving to draw smaller hearts around the larger one he doodled on his blood painting. "Throbbing for you... and I don't just mean my heart." His head falls back as he laughs at himself.

Wow, very funny. You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to have no reaction as you were reminded of why this is so fucked up. You slammed the knife onto the table and turned your back to him, ignoring his pissy groaning. You closed your eyes and blocked him out to give yourself a moment to think. You can't make sense of any of this.

You attempted to run your fingers through your hair but winced as it got caught in knots. Thanks, Eddie. You pulled out the hairtie and pulled it back into a messy bun, hair no longer crazy around your head. A loud clap of thunder makes you spin around.

You turned toward him to find his head bowed down, hands still splayed across the glass near his head. He sees your feet appear and glances up, eyes so lustful it makes you shiver.

"Lace? I totally expected that from you.." Eddie slides down to his knees, wet hands squeaking against the glass. "Fuck.." He shamelessly bows his head to peak under your shirt. You kick the door, which gains no reaction from him, and step back. You should feel gross, but you don't. Maybe you put your hair up on purpose, knowing your shirt would ride up. He looked tortured. Not that you cared.

You smirk and nervously bite your lip as you grab the ends of your shirt and slide it up, stopping just before where your panties are visible. He perks up and presses into the glass, mumbling pathetic pleas as he stands up and grabs the door handle. His teeth grit as you contain a laugh, your hand covering your mouth. You stand in front of him, your hand on the latch. You feel yourself throbbing. You're sick and twisted.

Moving to your toes, your lips almost touch the glass, his just on the other side.

"Want me to open it?" You mouth.

The rain is suddenly so loud, the wind howling, and another flash of lighting.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. "If you don't, I will." His head motions toward the large rock still sitting near him.

You pretend to be unbothered by that as you turn and pick up the knife before slowly unlatching the door. His eyes are wide in shock and he doesn't move as you slide it open and stand before him. You are both silent.

You raise the knife to his chest, hand slightly shaking now that there is nothing preventing him from launching at you.

"Be..have.." You try to confidently look into his eyes. "I mean it. Behave. Or I'll fucking cut you." You wiggle the knife.

He wordlessly walks you back into the dining room, his arm sliding the door shut.

"I'll behave if you behave." He jests as he makes his way toward the staircase, to your room.

"H-hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?!" You attempt to catch up to him, but a pain shoots through your leg again. You'd forgotten about your wound, too busy being turned on.

You slowly wobble over to the stairs and hop up, careful not to cut yourself on the knife you currently had, and lay at the top of the carpeted stairs to rest your pounding heart.

The floor creaked as Eddie exited your room with a towel around his shoulders. You quirked up an eyebrow and shimmied away from him, hand coming up and pointing the knife in his direction.

"Back the fuck up, Munson." You hiss at him.

He scoffs and ignores your threat completely as his eyes scrape your exposed thighs, a cold hand resting on your ankle and moving up your leg.

You breathe in and feel tingles spread along your skin. Your eyes watch him before kicking him in the shoulder when his fingers graze your inner thigh. He swears and holds his shoulder for a second before leaning forward and running his lips along your shin.

Persistent. Very persistent.

You liked it.

You want him to keep going. But this is so, so wrong. Robin will be here in the late morning, you just have to hold off until then.

You were about to smack the back of Eddie's head until he placed a messy, loud open mouthed kiss just above your knee- moaning as he lightly bit down on the flesh and licked over it. The same way he did to the glass.

The knife fell from your hand and your fingers balled up into fists. A moan bubbled in your throat and your toes curled as his hair tickled your thigh while his kisses moved upward.

Eddie stilled and looked up at you.

"Fuck, baby. Now we're talking."

×

×

Part 2

[shmowder]

If you feel up to writing more yandere (or maybe just a bit too overprotective) stuff, maybe Daniil and/or Artemy finding out that someone who was shitty to the reader in the past has moved to the Town? Like a toxic ex or friend 👀

There will never ever be a time in my life where I'm not up for more yandere patho content. It's living rental free in my frontal lobe fully furnished and all.

Yandere Bachelor meeting your Toxic ex

[Softcore Yandere, Obsession, Overprotectiveness, Toxic ex]

[Danill Dankovsky x GN Reader]

-

Your behaviour was gradually becoming more erratic.

The bags forming under your eyes–lack of sleep?–The occasional glancing at every person passing you by–a hint of fear?–The short replies, the scripted politeness, the haze clouding your pupils, your mind is clearly somewhere else even as Dankovsky stood in front of you.

The audacity.

A thousand details, subtle changes in your demeanour, things no one but him would ever notice about you. All the symptoms he noted down thoroughly each night. Inked on papers and saved next to your files.

There must be a cause, a source that led to all of these unexplainable changes. All the progress he was previously making in getting closer to you was suddenly halted as you began to clam up, be more guarded, and skittish.

Not just around him, but everyone in your life. Not daring to step outside your doorway more than once a week for groceries, declining his several invitations, be it letters or in-person. You evaded meeting his questioning gaze–hugging yourself with yours arms, guilt or shame?–as you politely rejected another offer to spend time together, be it a short stroll or a sharing a bottle of red back at his place.

His pride preventing him from cornering you and asking you directly what's the meaning behind your latest behaviour, demanding the truth.

Part of him felt insulted that you wouldn't confide in him by your own free will. Who else do you have but him at your side? He's made sure to tailor himself perfectly to your tastes, to present himself as the ideal man of your dreams.

Nonetheless, mopping around won't get results. Daniil puts his figurative detective hat back on and gets to work, pulling at the thread until it unravels. Offering your friends a drink or two to get their tongues loose, cashing in a couple of favours from the Scarlet Mistress herself and an old university friend.

The current facts so far are:

1- A train arrived into town 3 weeks ago on Thursday's afternoon.

2- The earliest of your symptoms appeared on Saturday's morning, as recorded in his files.

3- A witness claimed she saw you leave the Brokenheart Pub in a hurry on Friday's night.

The rest was a cakewalk; finding out about the verbal fight you had in the backalley of the pub, vague recalls from bystanders on how the person attempted to grab you before you ran off.

The picture became more and more clear of what happened that night.

Of who you've been avoiding.

A stranger stands out in this town like a sore thumb, Daniil would know from personal experience, after all. Your ex hasn't been attempting to hide, either. If anything, they were purposely causing a scene after another in an attempt to get your attention, reel you out of hiding.

What a pathetic display.

As a doctor, as your personal care provider, it simply falls within his responsibility to get rid of any stubborn migraines attempting to weasle their way back into your life.

And with what your symptoms imply, the untold things they've put you through, clear and loud to anyone with a speck of common sense and logic...

Allowing them to walk away with their life seems too kind.

Daniil hasn't always been a fan of radical treatment, but he'll make an exception this time around. If the cure to your illness of heart is their life, then so be it. You've already given them a chance by letting them go; they're the ones who followed you here, stupidly spelling their own demise.

Gather witnesses testimonies of their past transgressions, plant some false evidence, and exaggerate the severity of their crimes.

It doesn't take much to nudge the Saburov on their trail after that.

Not that anyone would doubt the noble bachelor if he came in to report a person and demand they be thrown in prison, but Daniil had a bigger plan in mind.

He admits, the bag full of unprescriped morphine vials planted in their room was an overkill. But it just made the checkmate even more delicious, oh the look on the governor's face as this became a personal matter rather than a mere upkeeping of justice.

The trial only took a day, Daniil proudly standing next to the judge, giving his rehreased speech about how certain kinds of crimes can never be forgiven, how jail is too light of a sentence for certain scums of the earth.

Basking in the look of despair on their face

Their public execution was ordered the next day, just around the afternoon.

That gives him enough time to soak in a scented bath, putting extra effort into his appearance, making sure to grab something fresh from the bakery nearby, and finally arrive at your place.

With the sweetest most angelic smile on his face, asking if you'd please allow him this one short stroll together? Just a simple walk, for his sake. Look, he even brought you warm scones dusted with sugar. You wouldn't say no to him after all the trouble he went through, would you?

The Bachelor looked graceful as ever as he linked his arm with yours, talking about this beautiful spot in town he stumbled upon yesterday.

How he can't wait to show you the fruits of his labour.

With the afternoon sun akin to a warm blanket, you took a bite from the sweet pastry in your hand. Walking side by side in this quaint atmosphere, you tried your hardest to relax...to not think of-

There's a crowd in the distance, you wonder what could it be about.

[bella-caecilia]

41 and/or 12 for Cobert fluff?? (early marriage Cobert if you can)

Hope you like this little pre-canon drabble <3

Day 9

41 + 12 – not letting them go when hugging & terms of endearment

He had been away for over a week now. By Cora’s reckoning, it was quite a long time. She knew deep down that a week was nothing but Robert and she had never been separated for this long. They were husband and wife and they ought to be in the same place normally. That was what Mama said too. But now, the days passed and Robert still was in London. He was accompanying his father to learn his right way around the estate’s demands and duties. They were staying at the club, visited some associates and their lawyer, but really, Cora had little understanding of what their missions consisted of.

When they left, it was said that they would be in London for a few days. A few days was a rather broad limitation, Cora learned. Whenever she asked Mama when the men would be back, she said that Cora should take it as a lesson in patience. Really, it meant that Mama had no idea herself. And so, Cora spent her days as Mama’s constant companion. Being in her vicinity almost without any breaks didn’t make the time pass faster. Occasionally, Cora could flee for some minutes to the nursery and recharge on a little happiness when holding Baby Mary in her arms. This short moment marked the high point of Cora’s day.

She was also in the nursery when Robert arrived back home. The carriage pulled up the wide driveway without her notice, and the two men only found Lady Grantham emerging from the drawing room to greet them as they stepped into the main hall. She wasn’t pleased when she knew no answer to her son’s question about his wife’s whereabouts. Violet felt that it gave the impression she had no control over her daughter-in-law when in reality, she had directed and supervised Cora quite closely.

So, Robert was first called upon by his valet in his dressing room to take off his travelling attire before he could finally reunite with his wife.

Cora was lost in Mary’s big dark eyes when her husband peaked curiously into the nursery. She noticed his shadow in the corner of her eye after a while. She thought it was the nanny who had come back and she only quickly threw a look over her shoulder. When it wasn’t Nanny who was standing in the doorway, Cora’s head snapped back and her eyes widened at the sight of her husband.

“Robert!” she breathed. He smiled at her reaction and fully entered the room, closing the door behind him. “You’re back!” Cora whispered.

“I am back,” he repeated. He approached her carefully. The nursery wasn’t a room he had been in many times. Cora could see his uncertainty and caution in the bethought manner he carried himself. As he stood before his wife and baby, Robert gently touched Cora’s elbows and planted a peck on her forehead. Cora closed her eyes at the missed and longed-for sensation. Mary gurgled in her arms. When Cora opened her eyes again, she saw Robert looking down into her arms. She followed his gaze and saw Mary staring up at him sceptically. The little brow was furrowed and the mouth pulled into a pout.

“Your Papa is here again,” Cora cooed. She brushed the side of her finger lightly over Mary’s chubby cheek. “Are we not happy to see him, Mary dear? We have missed him greatly, right? My little sunshine.” She tickled her daughter on the belly and got lost again in the soft giggles. Her baby pulled all her attention, even surpassing the excitement about her husband’s return. For the moment at least.

A little while passed until Robert dared to disrupt the lively harmony between mother and daughter. “I see you two got on perfectly without me.”

Cora looked up at his words. His tone wasn’t reproachful. He said it matter-of-factly. Cora looked back and forth between his eyes, checking his expression for a hint of his intention behind it.

“Oh, Robert. I did miss you,” she made clear in a much more assertive voice than before. “And you couldn’t have been gone a day longer or I had gone mad.”

“Really?” he asked, and Cora wondered if his question was for real. If it was, she had to consider really being angry with him for wasting no thought on her when he was gone for days. Hadn’t he missed her? Why was he surprised?

“Well, of course!” she emphasised. Turning to the crib, she put Mary down, after sending a pleading look Robert’s way. Mary protested a bit but Cora rang for Nanny while looking at Robert to guess his thoughts. She went to stand directly in front of him again and took his hands into hers.

“Don’t go away for so long again. Without warning me properly beforehand, at least.”

Finally, she witnessed a change in his expression. His eyes softened, and she felt so very close to him again. “I hope it wasn’t that bad,” he said, but Cora just fell into his arms. After a second, his arms encircled her upper body and he held her close to him.

“I thought you would be back after two or three days,” she mumbled into his collar.

“I am sorry, my dearest.” Cora’s insides melted at the term of endearment. It always was a moment of euphoria when he called her that. Her heart sang at the sound of these words. She was his dearest and he said it out loud. It was a reminder that she was the luckiest woman on earth. She inhaled deeply, smelling him, breathing him in as much as she could. A happy sigh left her smiling lips.

“Well, you’re back now, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” His lips connected with the crown of her head, and she felt his warmth encompassing her completely.

The door opened behind Robert, and Cora heard it before she saw the nanny emerging and entering her field of vision. Cora felt slightly caught. She was not embarrassed about being so close to her husband and it actually always made her heart leap whenever he showed more than the customary extent of affection when others were around. But it felt inappropriate for Nanny finding them so intimate in the nursery of their baby daughter. She lifted her head and tried to step back, out of his embrace, to not embarrass Nanny more than was already the case. She hadn’t anticipated Robert pulling her in even closer though. His cheek pressed into her hair and his hands covered her upper back. The last thing she saw before her face was cradled in the crook of his neck, was Nanny’s eyes shooting down to the floor and her slowly backing away from the scene.

Cora didn’t want to burst the bubble of this serene moment, so she didn’t dare speak. She focused on the regular movement of Robert’s chest and was happy to allow him this moment of peaceful intimacy.

Her voice was soft and quiet when she spoke again, “I take it you missed me too a little.”

“Well, what you do think?” Robert grumbled. He squeezed her tightly before letting her go. Cora looked up at him, and she saw how he tried to put on a look of unaffectedness; being the stoic English man she married. Somehow, it endeared her how he tried to be in total control of his feelings while often being unable to handle his own romantic and sentimental spirit.

“I think we embarrassed Nanny quite a bit,” Cora mentioned.

“What?” Shock crept up on his face.

“She came in but we wouldn’t stop hugging,” she explained. Robert touched his brow, looking quite flustered. “It’s alright,” Cora laughed.

“It does not surprise me that you would say so. Though, I know there is hardly a place less appropriate for showing such affection.” He looked around the room before indicating for them to leave. Cora shook her head as she followed him.

The nanny waited patiently in the hallway at safe distance from the nursery. Cora sent her a friendly look of apology. Mary started whimpering with increasing loudness before the sounds were swallowed by the closing door and probably Nanny’s calming words.

If you want to send in a prompt, the list is here.

[headkiss]

Hi lovely! I saw that your requests are open and got super excited! I absolutely love your writing!

Could you maybe write something about the Reader comforting Steve about their relationship because he is insecure (feels like he doesn’t deserve the readers love etc.) and they just reassure him and its just very fluffy!

hiiii i hope u enjoy it!! it’s 1.1k words of some kinda sad steve and lots of fluffy comforting gf!!

Steve had a long day.

He really didn’t mind working at Family Video, having Robin as his coworker, getting to laze about the store when it was dead. It was a good job, manageable and not too demanding.

It left room in his days, for those kids he cares for so deeply to ask him for a ride, for grocery shopping and cooking and all the domestic things he got to enjoy. And for you, mostly for you.

You basically lived together in his parent’s house now, though the house was more his than anyone else’s. He was there the most, he took care of it when endless business trips and surprise meetings took place. Your parents didn’t mind that you spent most of your nights there, you were safe and that’s what they cared about.

Not to mention they loved Steve almost as much as you did.

Usually, Steve would be beaming as he got off work, practically bouncing just because he’d get to see you again. Today, however, he moved as slow as he could on the way home, he didn’t want to face you.

He had a visit from none other than Tommy H during his day, and his mood dropped and wouldn’t come back up ever since. Of course, Tommy only came by to get a look at ‘King Steve’ and where he was now. To put words in his head that weren’t true.

“Too bad this is all you could muster as a job. I could treat that girlfriend of yours so much better.”

Steve knew Tommy could never treat you the way he did, but that didn’t mean the words didn’t have an affect on him. Because to some degree, he was right, wasn’t he?

You could be with someone who actually went to College, who had a stable job, who could provide more than his parent’s home and monsters from another dimension. Someone who wouldn’t wake you up because of his nightmares, who would comfort you instead.

He hated this feeling. Of being so insecure with himself that he also doubted your feelings for him. He didn’t deserve the love you shared, not even a fraction of it.

You’re standing in the kitchen when he comes home, cursing because you hadn’t finished cooking yet. One of his shirts worn cozily on your body along with some of his sweats. You greet him with the enthusiasm you always have for him.

He sees your head peak out around the corner to the doorway, a wide grin blooming across your features as soon as you see him.

“Steve!”

You’re running over to him before he has time to take off his shoes, crashing into him with your arms around his neck. He hugs you back after letting out an ‘oof’ at the impact of your embrace, his arms circling around your waist and his head dipping down to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

The excitement you held for his homecoming wasn’t fully returned and you noticed that, frowning at the tone of his voice. He sounded tired, sad, and subdued. It was odd and you hated that. Despite him only being gone for a standard work day, you always missed him, and you knew he missed you too.

He told you almost every day.

Something about today, however, was different, and you weren’t okay with that.

“Come on, I’m making us dinner.”

“Can smell it. You’re the best.”

He followed you into the kitchen, mind still fuzzy and full of thoughts that he was so sick of. Having you around helped, it always did, but the brain was a powerful thing. His was especially noisy.

You took your food out of the oven, leaving it on the stove to cool off and leaning on the counter across from where Steve did the same against the island. You took a moment to study him, to notice the way his hair looked a bit messy, like he couldn’t stop running his hand through it.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay? You seem off?”

“Oh. Yeah, no. I’m good.”

You moved to stand in front of him, grabbing his hands in yours and grabbing his attention. He couldn’t help but look at you when you were this close. Your eyes said a lot of what you were thinking, telling him, pleading with him. ‘Talk to me’ and ‘I’m here’ and he felt that, so with a sigh he started talking.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“What do you mean, Steve?”

Your hands were reassuring in his, thumbs running back and forth over his knuckles just so he was reminded that you were listening.

“You’re so good. Too good for me. I don’t even have a degree. I work at Family Video and wear a fucking vest as a uniform. You need more than that. More than me.”

“No. Steve, absolutely not.”

“You’re just so perfect, and I love you, you know I do and I know you love me. I know that, it’s just, it feels like everything you give me is too much.”

“No amount of love or kindness could ever be too much, Steve. Not coming from me, that’s for sure. You’re the closest thing to perfect I’ve ever known and I’ll be damned if you won’t let me keep showing you that.”

His eyes were welling as you spoke, your soft voice so convincing, so real that he knew you were being honest with him. The boy just couldn’t believe someone loved him that much, and that it was you.

“I love you, Steve. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. ‘M sorry.”

“None of that.”

You kissed him softly, an unspoken reminder of your affection, of all the feelings you harboured for him. He squeezed your hands in his, even using the grip to pull you closer, just to feel your body against his. To feel the warmth and safety you provided.

When you pulled away you couldn’t help but ask, “who put that shit in your head anyways, huh?”

“Um, Tommy H. He came in and.. you know.”

“I’m gonna smack him, seriously.”

“Can we maybe eat first? I’m hungry and your cooking is my favorite.”

“Steve, my cooking fails half the time.”

“Don’t care. Still the best.”

One last peck, then another, just because, then you were moving to grab dishes, starting to talk about how your day went to try and lighten the mood.

Steve watched you with a smile, and he thought he might never deserve you, but he’ll work hard every single day to make sure he will.

[earlgreydream]

ignored.

| loki x reader | fluff |

anon requested. nobody really listens to them so they just leave and Loki follows them and let’s the reader know that they’re there for them & reader feels like shit because she thinks that no one really listens/cares about her but Loki’s there and holds them and tells them stories

Nobody listened to you.

You had tried to make yourself heard among the avengers, but you kept getting pushed aside. In meetings, you were talked over. Around the tower, you had been in conversations and interrupted by your colleagues, pulling the other away. 

You were one of them, but you felt ignored and overlooked. A single instance may not have bothered you, but this had gone on for weeks now, and you felt isolated from your friends. 

You were a newer addition to the team, and you didn’t feel quite like you fit in with them, or at least not yet. You had tried to give it time, but it was difficult, overwhelming, and frustrating.

.

Loki had witnessed you being brushed aside on multiple occasions. He was familiar with the feeling of not fitting in, and how exhausting and isolating it could be. 

The two of you were friends, but hadn’t really been close. You were slightly distrustful of the mischievous god, something Thor had convinced you was good judgment. Loki knew how you felt, and he couldn’t blame you, though he still desired to earn your friendship and connect with you. 

.

Loki knew you deserved better than the way you were being treated, and he watched your expression fall as Thor once again brushed you off. 

You had been in the middle of trying to explain a strategy you felt was best for your upcoming mission. You were smart, and incredibly clever, and Loki felt like they should’ve been paying much better attention to what you had to say. 

You were interrupted by Stark, who cut into your conversation and pulled Thor away to talk about the mission, completely disregarding what you had been talking about with the god.

Your hand went to your stomach, trying to settle yourself. You turned and walked from the training room, attempting to conceal the frustrated tears that were threatening to fall. 

Loki stood, following you from the training room, all the way to the library, where you had collapsed onto a couch to cry. Loki hesitated for a moment in the doorway, trying not to embarrass you. 

You looked up, startled when your name was called. You recognized the voice without having to turn around, deep and sultry with an accent. You immediately tried to stop your tears, sniffling and inhaling stuttered breaths.

“It’s okay. I’m so sorry they don’t listen to you.”

You were shocked to hear the acknowledgement. You’d kept your feelings and hurts bottled, thinking it was all in your head, or you were just overreacting. At the validation from Loki, you started crying again, unable to hold back your emotions.

“Oh,” Loki sat down beside you, laying a hand on your back.

“I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I noticed.”

You nodded, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. You accepted the comfort Loki gave, smiling as he conjured a blanket around the two of you. Your hands wrapped around his strong bicep, thankful for the comfort from the god.

“Thank you, Loki,” your whisper was hoarse.

“I think you’re clever, and you need to be heard. Don’t cry, darling, you’re wonderful.”

You smiled at him, brushing your tears away with the sleeve of your sweater.

“Do you think so?”

“I’m entirely certain,” Loki promised, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

“You know, nobody listened to me when I first got here. I was brushed off too, similar to you. It just takes time for them to warm up, you must be persistent, I’m afraid,” Loki’s voice was smooth, his deep baritone soothing.

You listened, curled up against his side on the couch. He continued with his story, and you felt better knowing that you weren’t alone in your struggle. You’d completely stopped crying as you giggled at the story of Loki standing on a table in the conference room, demanding Stark listen to him. 

“You did that?”

“I did,” he nodded, mirroring your amused smile.

“Thank you, for cheering me up,” you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“My pleasure,” he hugged you, resting his chin on top of your head.

.

You walked into the meeting, Loki falling into step beside you. He lightly squeezed your arm, offering you silent reassurance of his support. 

“Any ideas about how to infiltrate the Baron’s manor?” Stark asked, spreading out floor plans on the table for your crew to look at.

“I have an idea,” you spoke.

“I was actually thinking-” Parker started, but Loki immediately interrupted him.

“Y/N was about to share her idea, and I think it’s best if you listen!” his voice was sharp, silencing the chatter in the room.

Stark looked up at you, and you nodded at Loki before explaining your plan, pointing out the fully-thought-out details on the map. For the first time, they actually paid attention to what you were saying, all agreeing it was a solid plan. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said, earning a smile. 

“Of course.”

.

“Has it been better?” Loki asked, laying on your bed as you stretched and practiced fighting stances in the middle of the floor.

“A lot better. Thank you,” you answered, setting down your weapon and walking over to him, straddling his waist and sitting on his abdomen. 

“Don’t thank me. It’s all you,” he smiled, his hands resting on your waist. 

You grinned, leaning down and planting a kiss on his lips. His hands traveled under the fabric of your tank top, squeezing your warm hips. You kissed him slowly, indulging in the slow, lazy afternoon makeout session. 

“Woah, sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping to get your opinion on this route?” Bucky’s startled voice came from the doorway. 

You sat up quickly, slipping off of your annoyed boyfriend. 

“Absolutely!” you said, trying to shake the embarrassment. 

“Go, I’ll be here,” Loki kissed your cheek.

You followed Bucky, happy to be consulted. 

[mackenzielovee]

Hi, I loved crazy love. Literally I become obsessed, so I was wondering if you could write something about them when they are moving to their new apartment near to college and both of their families are helping them to have everything in order, but Rafe only want them to leave to be all alone with you in their new home. Maybe a little bit of smut?

a/n: this idea had my heart bc i'd really been wanting to write something like this ;) i hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the request!

Warnings: swearing, smut, mentions of planned pregnancy, discussion of sex

crazy love masterlist

my writing

our home: crazy love blurb - rafe cameron

"No, no a little to the left. Ward, are you listening to me?"

You sigh as you set the very last box down on the kitchen counter, stealing a glance at Rafe, who is sitting on your new couch. His head is in his hands as he listens to his parents bicker back and forth, trying to hang up the painting they had bought the two of you. Rose had gushed over it when she bought it, telling you it would match the rest of your decor perfectly.

"Of course, darling. You're talking loud enough," Ward gripes, shifting the painting to the left as Rose demands.

"Oh, come on, now. Back over to the right-"

"It's straight!" Rafe raises his voice, standing up from the couch.

You inhale sharply and step into the living room of your new apartment, wrapping an arm around him to try and calm him down. Ever since his parents and Wheezie arrived with the moving truck to help you both, he's been on edge. When your parents showed up with Macy, you thought he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

"Actually, I think it might just be straight," Rose nods, "Good eye, Rafe."

"Thanks so much," he remarks sarcastically.

"Hey," you whisper to him, trying to tell him to quit being mean to his step-mom, "They're here to help, remember?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I could do this shit myself."

"Because you're such a handy man?" you snort.

Rafe clenches his jaw as he looks down at you, but can't help the smirk on his face. He pulls you closer to him, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Where did Macy and Wheezie go? They should start on those kitchen boxes," Rose tells Ward, stepping away from her husband to look for them.

"We can handle the kitchen boxes," Rafe tells her.

"Y/N?" Rose looks to you for a final answer.

You glance up at Rafe only for a second, noting the look on his face, then nod your head in agreement.

"I like the kitchen organized a certain way, anyway," you tell her with a smile.

She nods her head, "All right. Ward and I can start on your sheets-"

"Y/N's parents are taking care of that," Rafe informs her.

Wheezie and Macy come tumbling into the front door, running past all of you and into your bedroom with your parents.

"What the hell are those two up to?" Ward questions.

Wheezie and Macy have become as thick as thieves, the best of friends, over the summer. One day, you'd shown up at Rafe's only to find your sister in her kitchen with Wheezie, baking away. Ever since then, you and Rafe have had to be extra quiet upstairs.

Rose and Ward step toward your bedroom as well, which is down a small hallway just off the kitchen. Rafe grabs your hand and yanks you with him, following the crowd of people.

"Can everyone get out of our bedroom, please?" Rafe grumbles, standing behind his father and watching your parents finish up making your bed.

Your parents had not been crazy about you and Rafe living together right as you both make the transition to college. You had cried, begged, threatened to not go to school, and even dragged Rafe over for a family dinner so all of you could talk the situation out. You'd never seen Rafe's face so red as the night he had to sit at a dinner table and discuss with your father how the two of you would be sleeping in the same bed.

When your parents found out that the Camerons would be financing your rent bill, however, the living situation had changed. Your parents hadn't realized how expensive dorm living is, and the thought of not having to pay for housing on top of tuition sounded like a dream come true.

Which is how you land in your new, empty kitchen, trying to hold Rafe back from killing every family member the two of you currently have within arms reach.

"It's quarter to three," your dad tells your mother over your bed.

"Macy," your mom speaks, "Get your stuff, honey. We have to get going."

"Yeah," Rafe perks up, earning the attention of his parents, "You guys should get moving, too. Y'know, lots of traffic, and Wheezie's got that thing early in the morning."

Wheezie opens her mouth to speak, but stops suddenly when Rafe gives her the death stare. She looks to you, to which you just shrug, and then turns back to her parents.

"What thing?" Rose asks her. Ward's phone buzzes in his pocket, earning his attention.

"Uh," Wheezie hesitates, looking to Rafe once more.

"Girl scout meeting," Rafe blurts.

You cover your face with your free hand to try and prevent Rose from seeing your laughter. You truly have no idea where Rafe gets this idea that Wheezie is old enough to be in girl scouts. Wheezie narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly.

"Girl scout?" Rose questions to herself, still trying to figure it out when Ward speaks up, eyes still glued to his phone.

"Wheezie, get your stuff. You won't want to be tired in the morning at your meeting."

Wheezie rolls her eyes but does as she's told, making her way out of your bedroom and down the hall to collect her things in the living room.

"Seriously, Rafe?" she hisses, "Girl scouts? I'm fourteen-"

"Shut up, Wheeze," Rafe says back to her through gritted teeth.

Wheezie turns to you, "He's your problem, now."

"Oh, boy, do I know it," you tease Rafe, smiling with Wheezie. She laughs, but it's short lived when Rafe shoves her away.

"Get your shit," he mutters.

"Stop it," you demand, stepping in front of him and holding onto his forearms as they are wrapped around your waist.

The one thing you love about Rafe more than anything is how he always shows affection to you, even if your parents or his parents are around. He just doesn't seem to care about anyone except you.

"I want them to go," he defends himself, keeping his voice quiet, "I just want to be alone with you. In our home. I didn't realize that was such a difficult request."

You smile up at your fussy boy, dragging one hand up to his face to stroke his cheek. You can faintly hear your families moving around the two of you, but you're too lost in your own little world to think too much about it.

"Be patient," you whisper to him.

He smirks, "Will you make it worth my while?"

You give him back the same look, loving the way he smirks at you and allows his eyes to rake over every inch of your face and torso. It takes everything in him not to just grab you by the throat and kiss the hell out of you, only controlling himself because your dad is ten feet away.

"Don't I always?"

Rafe groans, trying his best to keep his composure. He has to close his eyes as he continues to whine, knowing that if he keeps looking at you, he'll be hard in no time.

"All right," Rafe says loudly, tugging himself away from you, "Thanks for coming, everyone, but we have a lot to unpack here. Dad, Rose, Wheezie, I'll show you to the door."

You snicker as you watch him attempt to lead his confused family out the door. You turn to your own family, giving hugs and promising to call whenever you can. Rose refuses to leave without giving you a hug, which pisses Rafe off, as he's gotten Ward and Wheezie out successfully and only needs one more.

Rose promises to send flowers, one that match the color scheme of course, and tells you she'll call you to check on Rafe, since he doesn't bother to return her calls. You give Wheezie a hug and give Ward a polite smile and wave from the doorway.

The second they're all out the door, Rafe slams the door shut and locks it before any of them can decide they forgot something.

"Ah, free at last," you joke.

Rafe turns around, licking his lips as he thinks about how you two finally have an empty house and he has you all to himself. No distractions, no parents, no little sisters listening intently at the door for secrets and drama. He eyes you up and down once, and when he brings his blue orbs to meet yours again, you know what he's thinking.

"Come here," he demands, but he can't help himself.

That boy rushes over to you, pushing you up against the wall in the entryway of your new apartment, kissing you as if his life depends on it. You accept his kiss without a second thought, allowing your hands to wrap themselves around his neck.

"Up," he mutters against your lips, hands guiding themselves to your waist as you jump up and let him position himself in between your legs, wrapping them around his torso.

He moves his kisses to your cheek, then your jawline, then your neck, while his hands relentlessly roam your ass.

"Rafe," you say, tilting your neck to give him more space.

"Hmm," he hums against your skin, not stopping or slowing down for anything.

"I really do have to unpack the kitchen if you want to eat dinner tonight," you tell him, although you're fully aware he would never set you down for anything right now.

"Not hungry."

"Rafe-"

"I think," he stops you, wet kisses trailing your collarbone, "We should fuck everywhere. Y'know, break the place in."

Even though you two have been together for a while, him saying things like that to you always seems to send tingles through your whole body. He always knew what to say, what to do, to get you riled up in all the right ways.

"That would take us all night," you whisper, smirking because you already know what he's going to say.

"Fine with me, baby."

You smile, then reach down and grab ahold of his cheek with your hand. You lead his lips back to yours, kissing him harder than you had been before. He moans into your mouth and you know you have him right where you want him now.

"Kitchen first?" he questions, breathless, "Or should we mess up that pretty little bed your parents just made up?"

The raspiness in his voice gets you going, enough for him to notice you squirming in his grip. He grins, knowing exactly what it is you need.

"Kitchen," you tell him, watching as he barely nods before he kisses you again, carrying you over and setting you on the counter.

With ease, he removes your shorts and underwear, dropping his own shorts to the floor beneath him. He kicks all of the clothes away, knowing the two of you won't be needing them for a very long time.

"I can't wait, baby," he mumbles, excusing his lack of foreplay.

You shake your head, and he already knows you don't mind based on the way you're dripping onto the granite, "Please, Rafe."

He smirks and then grunts as he enters you, breathing out a sigh of relief that you two are finally home.

By the time you and Rafe even make it to your bedroom, he has to carry you because your legs can't physically function anymore. Rafe's proud of his work, but pretended to pout when he finished you off on the couch and you told him you needed a break.

He lays you down on your new, freshly made bed, moving the pillows out of your way and tucking you underneath the duvet. He climbs in beside you and molds you into his body almost instantly, inhaling your shampoo scent and perfume, thinking about how perfect this moment truly is.

"I can't believe it," he whispers.

"I know."

"Our home."

"Yes, it is."

You two lay there for a while, staring out at the tens of boxes that have each of your names written on them, just begging to be unpacked. You're sure Rafe's boxes will still be sitting there in two weeks, as he had packed a separate duffle bag of his 'essential' belongings.

"You know," he starts after a while, a devious smirk finding it's way to his cheeks, "The next big step is having a mini you. Or a mini me. But, I'd rather have a mini you."

"We just moved into our college apartment and you're talking about impregnating me," you laugh, as if to ask him if he's serious.

"She'll be so cute," he goes on, "A little girl that looks just like you. And she'd have your smarts, thank God, because she'd be screwed with mine. But she'd have my humor, of course."

"Of course?" you tease him.

"And then we'll have a boy."

"Wow, Rafe Cameron, you really just have this all figured out," you move your head up to look at him, noting the small, cheesy smile plastered across his face.

"I do, baby. He'll be a hellion, though. Never listening, always running away, but a total momma's boy. Never wants you to leave his side-"

"So, just like his dad, then?" you grin, watching Rafe clench his jaw and shake his head.

"Break's over," he grunts, rolling you on your back and climbing on top of you, "We're trying, now."

"No, we're not," you say forcefully.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I'm joking. We'll wait until, like, junior year or something."

"Rafe."

"Fine. But the second you walk across that stage with your diploma, I'm putting a baby in you."

"Deal."

Tags:

@hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

[9tzuyu]

beauty is in the eye of the beholder

request:

college au!

note: i hope this was okay! i had a bit of trouble at first coming up with a prompt but i mixed in something of an old work and combined it into this.

also i’m not deaf, but i do have hearing issues in my left ear and i do know quite a bit of sign language. and i am using a little bit of my own experience in this, but no harm is meant to come from this fic :].

i kind of hate this im so sorry.

warnings: none i don’t think. not thoroughly proofread! all and any mistakes are mine ofc.

🏷: @c-is-writing ‹3

italics at the end are signed!

part. ii

. . .

after an hour or so of studying literature, you were beginning to feel stressed. your nerves were building and you were beginning to feel frustrated. your jaw clenched every two seconds.

you needed a break, and you needed it now.

with a small sigh, you got up and connected your phone to your speaker after double checking to make sure your roommate, natasha, wasn’t in another room.

scrolling through your playlist and picking one of your favorite songs, you pressed play and sat on the floor. you closed your eyes, allowing the vibrations to be welcomed by your other senses.

the song was rather fast paced, but it was easy to keep up with signing along thanks to a good twenty-some years of practice.

the rhythm flowed through your body, bringing immediate relaxation. it was times like these when you could fully appreciate your gift of language.

you’d had an off and on relationship with the only way you could communicate with. the world never made it easy for those with disabilities; often ridiculing, mocking, berating, and demanding they gain control over something they possibly couldn’t.

after years of speech therapy and learning how to read lips, here you were enjoying something you were taught to believe was wrong.

you were completely content with not being able to hear, and perfectly fine with the deaf label. there wasn’t anything you’d want to fix about yourself now, no one’s opinion could change that.

unbeknownst to you however, natasha was standing in the doorway watching your every little move. she was mesmerized not only by your beauty, but at how graceful and at peace you looked. she watched you sway with the music all while signing the words as the sunlight kissed your skin.

when the song came to an end, you stopped your music and moved yourself back into your position of study. but before you could completely get comfortable, your roommate put a hand on your shoulder, careful not to startle you.

you turned around in shock, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

no. no. no. there was no need for you to feel this way, especially not now. you were so sure of yourself just moments ago.

but maybe it was because she caught you by surprise that had you so worked up about it.

natasha bit her lip before grabbing a clean sheet of paper and pen from beside you.

“will you teach me? i know we’ve only practically just met a couple of weeks ago, but i’d love to get to know you better.”

you stood dumbfounded, tears starting to form in your eyes. it wasn’t until then when natasha put two and two together. she rushed closed to you, gently wrapping her arms around your body.

while doing so, she took the paper out of your hand, quickly scrambling down what she was trying to get out before pulling away.

it made for an awkward first hug, you could admit that.

“i think it’s really cool! no need to be embarrassed or anything. i promise :).”

you tried to pull yourself together. taking the paper and pen from her hands and writing down your response on your desk.

“why aren’t you laughing at me?” you slid the paper towards her. natasha’s head tilted in confusion before realizing what you’d meant by your question.

“is that what they did to you?” she whispered to herself, although she knew you could read what she was saying. not a second later you looked back up at her, nodding your head in confirmation.

with the pen still in your hand, you went to scribble out something else.

“sorry for crying, you just really caught me off guard. i didn’t think you’d be back until 5. this is normally something i do when i’m sure no one else will be around. i’m happy to teach you though.”

your roommate couldn’t help the grin on her face when she took the pen from you again.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you. no need to worry about crying, i’m not here to judge. i just think it’s a beautiful language. i’ve always wanted to learn, and now i have a reason to.”

you switched with her again.

“you know what they say, beauty comes from pain. i guess maybe that’s why gallaudet made the language.”

natasha shook her head.

“well personally, i believe beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

. . .

+ bonus:

‘hey natty?’

‘what’s up?’

‘you look very beautiful. you always do. and i think i might just have to ask you to marry me one day.’ you signed, knowing full and well she didn’t know exactly what you were telling her.

natasha playfully huffed a bit of air. ‘i haven’t learned all of that yet, you said you’d be fair.’ you stuck out your tongue, ‘i never said i’d always be fair. besides, you know all of this, but still can’t tell when im calling you beautiful? c’mon nat, it’s a one handed movement.’

‘hey now, i know beautiful! it’s the second half i don’t know yet. maybe you should teach me that part.’

‘in time i will.’

‘i’m practicing as much as i can, you know.’

‘i know nat, but look how far you’ve come already! just from five months ago! you’re unbelievably talented, and you’re learning at a much faster rate than i ever did. you don’t give yourself enough credit.’

natasha tugged you by the arm and pulled you in for a kiss.

‘cutie.’

‘that’s you, of course.’

‘if i’m so cute then tell me what you said, please? you know i can’t google that. or at least i don’t know how to- yet.’ she paused, adding a pout at the end of her statement.

‘i’ll tell you when i know it’s the right time.’

‘you’re a pain in my ass, you know that, right?’

‘i wake up every day and make it my number one priority, of course i know, natasha.’

[livinginwriting]

Just What I Needed (Jacob Seed x GN reader) (fluff)

Warnings: swearing.. that's it

Summary: you're having a rough morning.. you could use a cuddle.

You wake up too early the first time. It's usually easy to go back to sleep, but not when you're covered in sweat. The temperature is supposed to rise as summer draws near but not that fast. The AC doesn't get installed this early in the year.

So you go back to bed, fighting your boyfriend in a silent battle to get him off you without disturbing his sleep so you can remove yourself from the heavy blanket on top of you.

And THEN you wake up too late, close to noon. This time, you're by yourself, and you have a headache that challenges the gods themselves and their right AS gods. All you wanted to do was go back to bed or cry. Or maybe both. Today was just wrong, right off the bat.

The only encouragement that got you up and going was your big, hefty dog standing in the doorway in quiet demand that you come out and play with him. Maybe part of it too was that you had no idea where that big dumb ginger man went off to without waking you first.

On the day went! You manage to stomach some toast and a glass of water, neither of which help your head, and then it goes wrong again! Of course. Why wouldn't it.

On your journey to the sink, you stuck your foot a little too far left, and slammed your toe into the corner of the leg of the table. If the goal was to make you drop everything in hand and shatter on the floor, it was very effective. That's it! You've decided right then, today is over.

You want to go back to bed, your dogs are sniffing at glass like idiots as you desperately try to usher them away, you don't know where your boyfriend is, and your head hurts so bad you might kill someone! You do the only thing that feels natural once the dogs are safely outside.

You start to fucking bawl your eyes out.

To you, it's over the top crying, hyperventilating, whining every time you look back at your mess and think about how much everything hurts, the whole ordeal.

Oh, and it's more embarrassing when Jacob does come back, because now he's seeing you cry, and he's trying to piece together what happened, but you're standing at the back door, and there's glass in the kitchen. God you felt like a mess. Everything was a mess.

"Y/n?" His voice reaches out to you beyond the throbbing headache that creates a ringing in your ears, and even before he gets to ask you what happened, you're blubbering on about how stupid everything is and how you're upset and can't do anything right. You can't even see, you just keep rubbing your eyes just so more tears can form.

"Doll.." The voice is closer now, and when you pull your hands away from your face fully this time, he's standing with his hands hovering on either side of your face. Sure, you can't stand still, and you feel gross, but the comfort is welcomed as he caresses your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Without another word, you're crushing yourself into his chest for a hug. It's one you're given, and it's relieving to not have to reciprocate a cuddle, but to just be held while you try and steady your breathing. While standing there, he rocks a little on his heels, just a light side-to-side swaying motion to keep you grounded. After that whole meltdown, the pressure on your temples and the exhaustion that just filled your body was so much more overwhelming than the emotions themselves.

Before you get a chance to release yourself from his arms, he moves back, one hand cupping your jaw and the other tangling between your fingers.

"I'll clean this up and you can go and lay back down. I'll be with you and you can decide what you want to do today." He speaks in a firm tone, something you appreciate amidst the chaos still bouncing around in your skull. All you can do is nod, and drag your feet along the floor as you return to your bed.

You would have liked to have showered this morning, but you're so tired, and everything hurts still. Balling up under a thinner blanket and stuffing your head between two pillows was the best thing to happen to you since birth probably, and the sound and noise blocked out provided sweet relief.

Crawling into bed beside you was not one, not two, but three beings. When you move your head to the top of the pillow, there's Jacob again, right where you need him to bed, laying beside you with arms open. It's all you can do to drag yourself to sling one arm across his torso and press your ear to his chest, right before you let out a long sigh.

"Is this all you want today?"

You grunt in response, because, well, no shit dude.

He understands well enough, wrapping his left arm around you to hold you tightly, and pushes your hair out of your face with his right hand. He plays with his hair even as you sleep, and he's confident he could spend his whole day to lay here with you.

"I'll take care of you today." He hums, planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Anything you need."

The butterflies in your stomach help you to sleep, oddly enough, and you're comforted knowing that the best thing you could have is right here, holding you in his arms.

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin month day ten

rowaelin month day ten -- single parents. masterlist // buy me a ko-fi // redbubble  

The morning truly couldn’t have been going worse. Aelin had woken up to the nanny telling her she’d come down with the stomach flu. Aelin wasn’t cruel enough to tell the poor girl she had to work through it; instead encouraging her to drink as much water as she could and get some much-needed rest. Evangeline had apologized profusely, but Aelin was having none of it. She reassured her that she could figure it out.

It turned out she couldn’t. Her mother and father both worked sixty hours a week. Aelin knew that her mother would take a day if Aelin called, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the call and disrupt her week. Evie’s father had died in a car crash before she was even born. Everyone who was a viable option worked full-time jobs, leaving her three-year-old in her hands. She could call out, but she had a mountain of a workload that she’d left last night, reassuring herself she would get it done today. Everything she needed was at her office, so working from home was out of the question. All signs were pointing to an impromptu “bring your child to work” day. 

The CEO of the company was a good friend of hers, and Aelin knew that Dorian wouldn’t mind seeing his goddaughter toddling around the office. In fact, she knew that he would eventually steal her away for a snack time at some point so Aelin could get some work done. It would likely be a snack that wasn’t mommy approved, but she would give him a free pass today.

It would be okay, she reassured herself as she struggled to get Evie to cooperate with getting her tiny arms through her yellow long-sleeved shirt. She was mumbling in an indecipherable language as Aelin nodded along, chiming in here and there like she understood every word. The reality was that she only understood a handful of words. One of them was juice, so Aelin made a mental note to make her a full cup of juice for the car ride to the office to keep her happy. 

It didn’t take long to brush her hair into the tiniest pigtails to exist, with two little orange bows holding them in place. By the time she was fully dressed in her fall garb, complete with a tiny gray vest so cute that Aelin wanted to cry, she looked like a baby Gap model. Without a doubt, everyone at the office would be cooing over how precious she looked the second they walked through the door. 

“Where going?” Evie inquired, her little head tilting to the side as Aelin packed her go-bag full of snacks and an outfit change just in case. 

“Momma’s gotta go to work today, baby. You get to come, too. Do you want to see Uncle Dorian?” At the mention of Dorian, Evie’s eyes lit up as a broad smile pushed her chubby cheeks up until her eyes squinted closed. Aelin grinned and kissed her cheeks until she giggled wildly. Thank the gods that Evie was in a good mood today. Some mornings she woke up on the wrong side of the bed, fussy as all get out while Aelin tried to push along their morning. Thankfully today, she was full of smiles and giggles. It would make everything much easier if she cooperated.

After grabbing a sippy cup full of apple juice and shoving the bottle in her bag, making yet another note to put it in the fridge in the break room when she arrived at the office, she swooped Evie into her arms, and they were on their way. 

Upon arriving at the office, Aelin was right. The two receptionists immediately fell in love with Evie’s tiny pigtails and her outfit. They cooed over her bright eyes, twins to Aelin’s own. It took longer than usual to make it to the elevator, where even several men commented on how adorable she was. It brought a smile to her face, but it dropped when she thought of her office neighbor. 

Rowan Whitethorn was the hardass of the office. She was pretty positive that he hated her, and there was nothing she could do to change his mind. They spent their days arguing back and forth about anything and everything. Some days she was sure that he only did it to get a rise out of her. 

Aelin had never seen him smile-- he only scowled. His assistant was constantly rushing around, losing his damn mind trying to meet all of Rowan’s demands in a day. More than once, she’d caught tidbits of his conversations with Aelin’s own assistant, the poor boy begging to swap just for a single day. Aelin could only imagine what Rowan would say about Evie being such a workplace distraction. She was positive there would be complaints about her squeals and giggles that he would hear through the wall. 

There was truly nothing she could do, though. Too much needed to be done at work to take a personal day, and Evie was typically well behaved enough to be occupied until her mom got off work and could pick her up. 

As she made her way down the hall, everyone oohed and ahhed over Evie. Aelin thanked everyone for their compliments, her heart spilling over with joy. Until she saw Rowan in the kitchen while she put away the juice. He was making coffee and, upon noticing Evie in her arms, an emotion she couldn’t quite place flickered over his face. 

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” he said, eyes going from her pigtails down to the boots on her tiny feet. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She closed the fridge door and left the kitchen, gone as quickly as she had come. When she arrived in her office, she shut the door and put Evie down, watching as she ran straight for the couch and flopped over the side with a giggle bubbling out of her lips. 

The single mother took a few minutes to take Evie’s toys out of her bag, even laying a few puffy snacks out on the table for her to snack on while she played. She went straight for them as quickly as Aelin sprinkled them out of the container. Aelin chuckled as she watched her for a moment, hands on her hips while she decided she was okay to sit at her desk and begin her work. 

Evie was surprisingly self-sufficient while Aelin started her daily tasks. She played with the toys her mother provided and munched on her treats. Aelin heard a lot of babbling and a slew of giggles, a loud squeal pulling her from her work as her door opened. 

Dorian leaned in the doorway, giving her a running start until he followed, darting across the room to scoop Evie into his arms. He spun her in circles with her legs flying behind her. She was laughing in a way that she only did with Dorian. Aelin seldom got that sound to come out of her daughter, but somehow, she wouldn’t change it for anything.

“I heard tales of a little princess fighting dragons in my office,” he said to no one in particular, but Evie seemed to understand that she was the princess. If there was anything that she liked in this world, it was being called a princess. She understood that word more than anything because Aelin read her fairy tales of princesses every night. Tangled was constantly on their TV, only to be replaced by Beauty and the Beast. They utterly enchanted her, and everyone in her life was constantly calling her a princess. She loved it. 

The giggling continued while he tickled her sides and blew raspberries on her belly until the shrieking got so intense he made a face at Aelin and merely brought her into a tight hug as he said, “Sorry. Nanny out today?”

“She’s got a stomach bug. I had no other options; I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You know I love any chance I get to see her. I’m not going to penalize you for being a mother, Aelin.” Evie was chomping her teeth near Dorian’s face, causing her best friend to laugh and hold her at arm’s length. “I’ll even take her across the hall for a bit so you can get more done.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she replied, sighing and leaning back in her seat. Aelin really did have so much to do, to the point that she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him he didn’t have to do that. She would take whatever help she could get.

Her door was left open as he took Evie out into the hall, Aelin noticing that they weren’t going in the direction of his office but rather toward the kitchen. Her eyes rolled as she swiveled in her chair to face her computer and really dive into her work, leaning forward and exhaling a deep breath, willing herself to focus. 

Quite a bit of time passed, and she was able to get a considerable amount of work completed. All of her emails had been caught up when Dorian edged into her office and cleared his throat. Aelin looked up, half expecting Evie’s outfit to be ruined by chocolate, but her little ray of sunshine was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” 

“I… may have taken a phone call and looked away for two minutes, and she vanished.”

“What?” Aelin was on her feet in an instant, rushing across her office and out into the hall. “What the fuck do you mean? How long has it been?” 

“Since I lost her and started looking for her? Half an hour. I was scared to tell you.” 

“My daughter has been missing for half an hour, and you’re only just now telling me? What the fuck, Dorian?” She hit his chest rather abrasively as she shoved past him, eyes scanning every room while she ran down the hall. How she was able to do it without toppling over in her heels, she wasn’t sure. All she could feel was the panic from her heart pounding in her chest to the shaking of her hands. The roaring in her ears made everything else sound muffled and distant, like she was standing at the edge of white water rapids. Even with her hands in fists so tight she could feel them shake, nausea building up in her chest. 

“Evie?” She called out, a tremor rising in her throat that caused her voice to sound shaky and weak. Tears were pricking in her ears as she turned to run back to her office. She would call down to security to see if they could scan the cameras, and call reception to see if anyone had carried her out. From there, she would--

Her heart stopped beating when she glanced into Rowan’s office. It was the office directly next to hers, and behind his desk, Rowan held a snoozing Evie. Her little fist was gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, and he seemed relaxed while he flipped through papers with one hand. 

“What are you doing with my daughter?” Aelin asked, stepping into the door. A few tears of relief slipped down her cheeks, and she was quick to wipe them, lest he make an asshole comment about it.

“I told that little shit to let you know I had her,” he murmured, barely glancing up from his papers. “I think that’s the final straw. He genuinely can’t do the most basic of tasks, I--” 

Rowan paused when he looked up from his work. Something soft flashed in his eyes for a split second before he continued, “She was laying on the couch by the kitchen when I found her. She babbled something about Dorian, I think, and when I looked in his office, he was on the phone arguing with someone. You looked busy, and I know you have a lot to do, and when I picked her up, she let out the biggest yawn I’ve ever seen. By the time I’d walked back to my office, she was asleep. I told my assistant to let you know. I’m sorry that he didn’t, and I’m sorry that I didn’t follow up with an e-mail or a phone call. You just seem like you could use the help so you could get work done. I’m sorry.” 

Not only was it the most that Rowan had ever said to her in a single conversation, but it was the kindest she’d seen him be to anyone. He wasn’t complaining about the little bit of drool coming out of the side of Evie’s mouth and soaking into his jacket. He was just holding her like he was so at ease with the situation and truly didn’t mind. 

“You don’t wear a ring, and I’ve never heard you mention a significant other. Divorced?”

“Widowed,” she replied, sitting in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. Again, his face softened as he looked down at Evie. 

“She looks just like you. She’s beautiful.” Ignoring the implications of that comment, Aelin smiled softly.

“Thank you. She is… everything to me.”

“I… I have a daughter, too. Briar. My wife died two years after we were married. Briar is six now, but Evie is… so much less temperamental than B was.” Aelin tried not to let the shock show on her face. Shock that Rowan Whitethorn was a father and shock that they shared a sad history. The curiosity to ask how she had died was strong, but she wouldn’t ask. Sometimes she hated it when people asked how Sam died. It was like opening a wound all over again. 

“Oh, she has her days. Don’t let this fool you,” she laughed, dragging her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t know you had a daughter, either.”

Rowan flipped his computer screen so she could see it, and she was welcomed by a smiling little girl with stunning green eyes and brown ringlet curls. Her heart squeezed at the image, Rowan holding her in his lap and grinning so wide he had dimples. Rowan Whitethorn had dimples. 

“She’s absolutely adorable.”

“She is.” Aelin smiled again, looking down at her hands and twisting the ring on her left finger that her parents had given her when Evie was born. It was her birthstone. 

“You can keep working if you want to. I’ve got her.”

“She’s not bothering you?” There was hesitation evident in her voice as Rowan looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. He smiled, brushing a few wild strands of hair back against her head.

“Nope,” he said firmly, looking back at Aelin. “Really. You must have a lot to do if you didn’t just call in a personal day. She’s sleeping. It’s okay. I’ll bring her back when she wakes up.”

“I-- okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive.” Aelin chewed on her fingernail for a moment before she nodded and stood, walking across his office and toward her own. Aelin paused in the door, looking over her shoulder at the man with such a harsh reputation around the workplace. This man seemed entirely different, a man that was brushing his thumb against her daughter's side while she slept with his shirt in her tiny fist. He seemed so utterly relaxed while he adjusted their position in his chair to keep working. It was almost out of character, his offer. But she wasn’t going to complain. 

Rowan Whitethorn may have been the hardass of the office, but maybe he had a soft spot after all. @rowaelinscourt​

[monodipita]

dangerous (Yandere!Killua x Reader)

Word count: 2,161

Warnings: Yandere content warning, slight abuse warning, blood warning

The night descended upon you, the air reeked of blood and decay. You weren't even close to the door yet you were afraid to go anywhere near it, but you knew who was inside. He was there, waiting for you, even though you were scared of what was going to be inside the room, you were wise not to ignore his demands for your attention. Killua could be quite the monster sometimes, but never did you think that he would go this far. You were nauseous just thinking about it, and the noxious fumes in the air added on to nausea, but you were still holding yourself together through the pain.

What was on the other side of this door? Who would you see lying on the ground, surrounded by their blood, captured by the embrace of death?

Your hand slowly moved to the door handle. It turned effortlessly and smoothly to your chagrin. Watching the door creep open, it unveiled a new world before you. You had little time to react as your face was blasted with the acrid smell of death, causing you to double over and nearly vomit on the spot. It took everything within you to fight your reflexes, nearly becoming lightheaded from your efforts, but you were able to recover.

"Do you think I'm afraid of hurting you [Y/N]? Do you think that because I am so nice to you that you can walk free, that you can talk to whoever you want, whenever you want when I'm not looking? You took me for granted. I don't appreciate that." Killua. His voice sent chills down your spine. “No,“ you answer him in a quiet voice, “Killua, I wasn’t trying to do anything with them. I only spoke to them for up to a few minutes at a time. I didn't have anything to do with these people!“ It was a sobering thought.

”I just told you why I killed them [Y/N]. I'm not fond of repeating myself.“ Killua stood from his chair. You could see him in the dim light that was provided by the room now that he was closer to you. You could see the veins bulging in his hands, his nails were sharp as you had seen them be before in previous encounters. Blood splatter covered his body from head-to-toe. You find yourself slowly backing away from him, but you knew your lover well, there wasn't any fighting him, there wasn't any escaping him. "Killua," you called his name quietly, your mind surging and trying its best to come up with an excuse that would get you out of this hot mess. You didn't want to die, but you knew he was going to kill you. You didn't want to die because of something you'd thought was only a minor inconvenience. "Please, I..."

"What are you going to say," he was in front of you, his beady blue eyes stared down at your face. ""Don't kill me?" Of course, I wouldn't kill you, [Y/N]. I love you far too much to kill you, don't be ridiculous." He pulled you into an embrace and squeezed you in his arms tightly, his hands stroking down your back and reaching back up to your shoulders. You were hesitant to hug him back but slowly brought yourself to wrap your arms around him. . . feeling the two of you lock together in the embrace, your eyes closing as you brought yourself to lean into him with your head pressing on his shoulder. "Of course, I love you," he whispered.

The air was still and quiet, neither of you spoke to each other and instead held this awkward silence. You knew better than to move away from Killua, you knew better than to fight him when he was so much stronger than you, so you accepted your fate, resting against him like this. It was actually kind of nice after a while, it made you feel like he still loved you.

That was until you could feel his sharp nails burrowing themselves into your back.

"Ah!" You cried out. Your body began to squirm underneath his embrace that only got tighter the more you struggled against him. "Stop STOP! It hurts, Killua, PLEASE!!" You shrieked.

"This hurts, hmm? Am I hurting you [Y/N]? Does it hurt as much as you hurt me?"

Your screaming turned into wailing and sobbing, your body that had been consistently put to the test since you met Gon and Killua at the hunter exam became partially numbed to the excruciating feeling of his nails piercing and digging into your skin. Thankfully he didn't seem to be pushing his fingers any deeper into your body. "N-no, Killua, it doesn't," you sobbed, "I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"You're sorry?" Killua's hands ceased their assault on your body. He pulled his fingers out of your skin. The numb feeling that took over that area of your body ceased to exist at the moment, and the pain began to flood you from head-to-toe. Your own hands gripped at the shirt Killua wore to somehow relieve the agonizing pain you felt through putting pressure into your fingers. Your body began to shake, but you kept yourself up as best as you could. "yes," you breathed, "I'm so sorry that I hurt you Killua, I won't ever do it again!"

Silence fell.

Killua pulled himself away, his hands holding yours tightly as he looked down at you. "Good," he smirked, "I'll trust you, but just to make sure I'll handle it on my own." He said calmly. He gripped your hand crushingly tight. It was better than the pain you felt in your back, that was for damn sure though. You were dragged effortlessly out of the building that the two of you were in.

On the way out, he ripped off the note on the outside that lured you inside. He balled it up and tossed it aside. Your teeth clenched and grit themselves together while the two of you walked back to your apartment, the pain you were feeling was unbearable, but you knew better than to talk to Killua right now. The sounds made on the trek back would be the sounds of you whimpering and your footsteps colliding with the cement of the sidewalk. The two of you didn't pass by very many people on the way, so there was no one to stop and ask you what was wrong - perhaps that was for the best. You held your silence as the two of you stepped inside the apartment building, your eyes warily looking over to the elevator as he dragged you over to it.

You were scared, scared that he was going to do something horrible inside the apartment once the two of you were in it. As you entered the elevator your body nearly collapsed against his, your body sinking to the floor before Killua's. His hands went to your shoulders as he stared down at you, a shadow cast over his face to prevent you from studying any bright details, as well as rendering his expression unreadable.

"I think I like you in this position." He smirked.

You shook your head, "no, KIllua... please, my back... we need to go to the hospital..." you were tired of behaving like it wasn't an issue. The pain was still there even after ten minutes of putting up with it. "No we don't!" he rolled his eyes as he pulled you up. "I'll take care of you, don't worry about it. Only I should be the one to touch you anyway."

The elevator conveniently came to a stop for him so that he could lug you out of it and drag you to your apartment door. You could feel your body be dragged against his, your legs touching the floor, your injured back coming dangerously close to touching the floor, but your body was too weak to fight against his, you could only cry out at the feeling. "KIllua, please, it hurts!" You whimper, "let me get up!"

"I'll pass~!" the white-haired boy spoke casually as he grabbed the key from your apartment from his pocket. You took this moment to try and lift yourself, but you were only met with the feeling of pain, as his hand tangled with your hair to force you back down onto the ground.

The door opened. Killua dropped your hold on his body and stepped inside.

This... this was the chance, the only chance you would have to run if you were going to run. You were injured and on the brink of passing out, but an attempt of running and hiding sounded better than submitting to whatever would happen inside that room. Your body slowly brought itself to stand with the help of the columns of the doorway. Right as you were able to fully stand, KIllua glanced back at you for a moment. "Go lay on the bed," he ordered you, "I'm gonna go get the first-aid. 'kay?"

You said nothing as he disappeared around the corner. Your body instinctively turned to jet away from the scene as fast as your injured body could take you, finding yourself facing out into the hallway. What am I running for? You had no answer for yourself but anything was better right now then being at the behest of Killua, even if you still loved him you knew that there wasn't any turning back from this point on. ...at least not for you.

Your body tip-toed itself away from the doorway to your apartment and out into the hallway. You began to make your break for it, but you were stopped mid-way.

"Did you seriously think that this was going to work on me of all people?" He asked you, his hand wrenching your shoulder tightly within his grip. "After being made aware of everything that I'm capable of, me, Killua Zoldyck?" There were no words to express the genuine amount of surprise the white-haired boy felt. He was wordless as he pulled you back inside the apartment, this time closing the door behind him and securing you inside with him. You were powerless to fight against him.

"Now, let's go take care of those wounds of yours, shall we?"

He brought you further inside the apartment to your bedroom, where you were originally supposed to be in the first place.

There were chains on the bed. You could see them very well—they stuck out like a sore thumb because they were black against the gray sheets of your bed. "Ki-killua, what is this??" You ask him worriedly, but he pays you no mind as he pushes you onto the bed.

You aren't given time to react. He's already putting the ensemble together on your body. First your ankles, then your arms, and finally your neck are all bound by the same black metal. You wince in confusion, your eyes going up to him. "W-what is the meaning of this?! What are you doing to me?!"

"Seeing as I can't let you wander out without talking to people like only you know how to, I figured I'd take the necessary steps to ensure that you can't run away ever again." He spoke in such a cheerful voice. You were unnerved by it. "You can't do this to me... it's not right," You tried to reason with him, "I don't want to be stuck like this forever!"

"Oh, but I can do this to you, and you can be stuck like this forever! I have the power to facilitate it." He grinned. "Don't worry [Y/N], I won't let it be too lonely in here. I'll make sure to stay with you as much as I can! Like, I'll feed you, I'll bathe you, all that stuff. Like a pet. Only if you're good, though." You looked on in horror while he continued speaking. He seemed to forget what he needed to do at the moment. "Right, I almost forgot! I need to patch up that wound of yours. Hold on, I'm coming back!" So cheerful, so disturbing, you hated every second of it. You watched as he disappeared.

You took this time to look down at the predicament you were placed in. You were surrounded by familiar things, but you were in something unfamiliar: these chains, that you were supposed to be in forever. It was a horrifying thought, being bound to this one spot forever with someone as chaotic as Killua being the one to look over you... he would've been more than willing to have you killed on the spot, you were almost certain of that.

When Killua came back, he was holding a small first-aid kit in his hand, but more importantly, he was holding a large container of rubbing alcohol in his other hand—you already knew where this was going. You swallowed thickly as he came closer.

[edensrose]

(dark!Arie Hon concept post)

“The walk doesn’t feel as terrible after it’s done.”

A tight squeeze sets you on your way. This strange higher being takes your hand shrouded in blinding white although somehow casting shadow all the same. A veil of light.

Headon takes your hand.

“Whatever you’re looking for. It’s there. Up above.” No it isn’t. Because the 39th floor is below the 100th, but someone who has climbed the tower cannot take the climb again choosing their past choices again. If you knew you would have gone back to shrouded halls and took your chances with the blade of the Hendo Lok family. To prevent his immortality from burning out he chose to sacrifice his children to feed the flames. And centuries ago you wish you could have been the fuel to his abhorrent actions. Many many centuries ago.

“Mother.”

The rays of the false sun shine beautifully on your embroidery hoop. You had been sewing a beautiful white rose. The beautiful ruffles and petals you had put so much effort in making stand out had been rendered unseeable in the morning light.

“Mother.” A shake of the shoulder takes you out of your musings. It’s not like you didn’t hear her, but it had been such a fine morning without any meddling or prying eyes. Your child was sleeping peacefully in her crib swaddled in fine silks and toys. No handmaidens constantly checking over their shoulders for any sign of disobedience. No attendants forcing you into finer garments than you had seen a branch head in the Hendo Lok family wear in your life. Your husband watched them clutter around you like a flock of squabbling hens all trying to dress you in an outfit he deemed suitable. Over time he grew tired of the spectacle and picked out your gown himself. All laid out neatly next you on your shared bed when he usually slept, long gone when work called for him. Today was no different as when you woke up you found a white dress with billowing sleeves and light gray lavender embroidery covering the bottom half. It resembled more of a ball gown than casual daywear.

You felt as if you should have scoffed while tracing the flowers with your finger to find a symbol of the Arie Family stitched in a single long sword going down the left sleeve. Too large to be mistaken for anything else. You would have a few hundred years ago, but now, somehow all you feel was a slight blush on your cheeks and the compulsion to hug the garments tightly to your face to hide how flustered you were feeling.

“Ah, Hagipherione,” you greet with a warm smile, gesturing for her to lower so you could tuck a stray hair behind her ear, “How is your arm? I heard your father didn’t hold back.”

She stiffens before chuckling and responding, “You were expecting anything less than what he demands of you from me? Your own daughter?”

“No, of course not.” you reassure her before gesturing to show her arm to assess her injuries. She hesitated at first before pulling down her sleeve and revealing her fully purple arm with several not very minor cuts and bruises.

“Hagipherione,” you gasp in evident horror and putting down your embroidery hoop, “We should see the physician.

“No need. I’ll consult with my companion in the Po Bidau family after this.” She pulls back her sleeve.

Your baby had woken up and had started crying, wailing in her crib, you gently carried her out, rocking her gently before turning your attention back on Hagipherione.

“I-” you start to protest your daughter’s decision.

“Leave her be” an authoritative yet soft voice cut in. Your husband stood at the doorway with a neutral stance and his usual unreadable expression.

Hagipherione, as expected, was the first to bow her head in respect, “Father,” she greeted in a low bow causing her hair to fall out of place again.

You slowly rose out of your seat and slowly curtsied in front of him as he had forced you to practice routinely until it was no longer “shakey” or “lacking” as he described it long ago. Well the best you could with a child in hand. “My lord,” you greeted, bowing your head until he promptly told you both to rise.

Hagipherione eyed both of you and promptly declared her departure to the 101th floor.

You silently watched Hon with large doe eyes as he slowly walked to you taking interest in your child no longer crying and looking at her father as if he was the brightest sun in her life. He tickled the back of her chin and she gurgled, happy with the attention she had received. Of course. All the Arie children you’ve met were dying plants reaching out for the light that was their father. And who could resist his advances? You certainly were a prime example of that. He smiles.

“She takes after her mother.”

You open your mouth.

“You’ve certainly come a long way my dear.”

Arie Hon held you in his arms as if you weighed nothing with your elaborate wedding garments on. The wedding had just ended, your mother being reluctant to hand you over and bruising your hand in the process, but it was better that way. Because if married into this family you’d no longer be a Hendo Lok. Your family head couldn’t touch you without suffering the consequences. Making his way back to his floating castle, you looked at him and he had an expression you failed to read. He smoothed out your crumpled snow white wedding dress. Looking you in the eyes he smiled.

“You haven’t reached perfection, but mark my words you’ll soon become the perfection of this family. As expected of an Arie bride. My one and only.”

“Hendo Lok.” you softly replied.

A mocking grin sets on his face as he squeezes your hand and you flinch, “Arie.”

Footnotes:

The person who squeezes the person’s hand in the beginning is their mother who is referenced to be a controlling person similarly Hon squeezes their hand as they’re now the person replacing the mother and the guiding light in their life.

They’re describing both Hon and Headon in the opening phrase

The rose the reader had been sewing is a reference to the Arie family’s youngest Jahad princess “Arie Rose Jahad” and one of the reader’s children. (The child in the crib)

The reader calls Rose only ‘her’ child as Hon is shown to be usually un-attentive to his own children shown with Hoaquin.

All the scenes where Hagipherione or Rose is present it is the current day. All the other scenes are flashbacks.

Hagipherione is deluded in Hon’s lies and watches you for him like “a nosy maid”.

The reader themself is becoming more and more deluded by Hon's lies and strives to reach the bar of perfection he set for them.

Hagipherione at this time was here to take Arie Hon’s famous 100th floor test and was visiting at the time

ৎ୭ — writing submission !

ৎ୭ — genre : dark

ৎ୭ — warnings : dark themes // dark content

[daised-daisy]

My Prince’s Tears

ft. Feral Spider!Virgil

Ship: Prinxiety (platonic or romantic)

Word Count: 1,350

Summary: When Roman confides to Virgil about how upset Janus is making him, Virgil let’s his protective side get the best of him.

Warnings: spider!Virgil, overprotective Virgil, threats, shouting (in all caps), Janus isn’t painted in the best light

~

Mumbling a My Chemical Romance song under his breath, Virgil walked from corner to corner of his room, putting up fresh spiderwebs after tearing down the old, dusty, broken ones. He had his jacket tied around his waist and his bangs pulled back with a hair clip so he could better see his work. His spider legs, all sprouting from his back, were both lifting him high enough to reach the corners of his ceiling and working to make the webs.

A knock on the door distracted him from his tasks and he looked over to see Roman standing in the doorway, his body just a silhouette from the brighter hallway lights pouring into the dimly lit room from behind him.

“What is it, Princey?” Virgil asked with a slightly annoyed sigh. Roman seemed to tense and took a step back.

“I’m sorry. Never mind,” Roman said quickly, his voice weak and shaking. Virgil furrowed his brows. Roman turned to leave.

“Wait!” Virgil said, falling onto his human feet and rushing forward. “Come back.” Roman turned back to him and Virgil gasped when he saw the redness of Roman’s eyes and the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Roman chuckled to himself, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Gosh, I knew I must look unsightly in this state, but is it that bad?” he asked.

“No!” Virgil said quickly and a bit more forcefully than he had meant to. He reeled back. “I’m just surprised. I… what happened?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Roman said, looking off to the side. “Janus was–”

“Ugh,” Virgil cut in, rolling his eyes. “I hate when you use his name. I hate that you know his name.”

“Oh. Well,” Roman started over, “Deceit was in the living room with Logan and Patton and I and well, Patton was napping, but that doesn’t really matter. Well, it sort of does. Anyway, Logan was doing his smart nerdy things, which doesn’t matter much either, but I was drawing something and Ja—er, Deceit came in and said it looked wonderful, but he said it in that way. You know that way? So I told him to leave me alone and then Logan scolded me for being rude when he was just trying to give me a compliment even though he wasn’t! I know he wasn’t! He can’t trick me anymore! I know I’m stupid but I—”

“Whoa, whoa, Roman, slow down,” Virgil said, pulling Roman into a hug. “You’re not stupid, Princey. Janus is just good at what he does. He took advantage of you. It’s not your fault.” He gently stroked Roman’s hair on the back of his head as he held Roman close against his chest.

“Yeah, well, tell that to the others,” Roman hiccuped. “While Logan was yelling at me, Patton woke up and heard him scolding me for being mean, and then he did that ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face. I can’t stand that face! And I couldn’t even defend myself because Deceit started this whole little fake speech about how he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t even fake apologize for ever hurting me in the first place. I mean, can you believe that? The—uh… Virgil?”

Virgil’s eyes had gone completely black—all eight of them. He was staring straight ahead at nothing.

“Virgil?” Roman repeated, gently tugging on his hoodie. Virgil blinked and his eyes returned to normal, all but his two human ones vanishing. He looked down at Roman.

“Huh?”

“You weren’t listening,” Roman said, his expression falling. “I’m annoying you, aren’t I? You don't want to hear a stuck-up prince whine. I’m sorry, I’ll go.” Roman turned away and started towards the door.

“No, stay!” Virgil pleaded, lunging forward and grabbing Roman’s hand. Roman spun back around. “I’m listening, I swear!”

“And you promise I’m not being a bother?” he asked.

“I promise,” Virgil said, offering him a small smile. Roman smiled back. Virgil pulled him further into his room, leading him over to his bed, sitting down, then patting the spot next to him. Roman joined him and leaned against him, and Virgil put his arm around his shoulders.

“So anyway, I just feel so… awful around Janus. He makes me feel so stupid and insignificant, like there’s something wrong with me.” Roman took a deep breath as he started getting choked up. “And everyone acts like nothing happened, like he didn’t manipulate me and use me and take advantage of my stupid flaws. I just don’t know what to do!” Roman let out a heart-wrenching sob and squeezed his eyes shut.

Virgil remained silent. His grip on Roman suddenly tightened and he started rising into the air, one arm hooking under Roman’s legs so he was carrying him bridal style. It took Roman a moment to realize Virgil was using his long, spider legs to stand instead of his human ones again. His spider eyes had returned.

He suddenly raced forward, holding Roman close and protectively. Though his face remained neutral, Roman could tell he was angry purely by the furious energy that radiated off of him.

“Virgil? Virgil! What are you doing?” Roman asked, clinging to him, but he received no answer. Virgil only stopped when they made it to the living room. Only Patton was still there.

“Where is he?” Virgil seethed, his breathing heavy and his jaw clenched. His voice had a demonic echo.

“Where’s who?” Patton asked, looking up. “Oh Roman! Thank goodness! I wanted to apologize for not getting your side of the story earlier. I guess I got so caught up in trying to make Janus feel welcome, I–”

“HE DOESN’T DESERVE TO HAVE YOU SAY HIS NAME,” Virgil shouted, making Patton gasp and jump back.

“Uh, i-it’s okay, Patton,” Roman assured him. He said it even though he hadn’t quite fully meant it because he was afraid of what Virgil might do to poor Patton if he didn’t.

“WHERE IS DECEIT?” Virgil demanded, his grip on Roman tightening more. Roman let out a small whine as Virgil squeezed him. Virgil glanced at him and loosened his grip just slightly.

“I-I don’t know where he is!” Patton said, trembling. He let out a small croak and a few blotches of skin turned green. Virgil’s face softened a bit.

“You have no need to fear me, Patton,” Virgil told him, his voice briefly returning to normal. “You haven’t hurt my prince. Not like he has.”

“Your prince?” Roman repeated under his breath.

“Why do you want to find him?” Patton asked, still shaking despite Virgil’s slight descent in his anger.

“I want to hurt him. I want him to regret ever laying a finger on Roman,” he growled.

“Virgil, no! You don’t need to do this,” he insisted. “I appreciate the gesture, believe me, but I don’t need you to get revenge for me. Please, I just need you to be my friend.” Virgil’s face softened at Roman’s words, and he slowly sunk back onto his human feet, setting Roman down and retracting his spider features. He fiddled with his sleeve nervously.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet. Roman smiled. He gently cupped Virgil’s face and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” he said, then pulled his hands back.

“I wish I’d never let Deceit near you at all,” Virgil said, reaching forward and grabbing Roman’s hands in his own before he could fully take them back.

“Virgil, what happened with Deceit is not your fault,” Roman assured him, giving his hands a squeeze. “Please don’t feel bad. It’ll just make me feel bad.” He pouted to enforce his point. Virgil laughed a little.

“Alright, alright, I won’t feel bad about it,” he gave in. Roman smiled and pulled him into a hug. Virgil held him tight, letting out a soft, content hum.

“But if I catch him pulling anything else, I’m gonna do something about it,” he added in a low voice.

“Oh, you’re so brave, my stormy knight,” Roman giggled. Virgil blushed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Ro.”

[mrsalwayswrite]

Singing in the Shower (Ragnarssons x Reader)

This is just a silly little one-shot that came to mind that I could not stop thinking about. It got a bit deeper than I planned but oops?

Also my first time writing a Ragnarssons x reader! Please let me know if I did all the brothers justice. Except Bjorn isn’t in here. So its just the sons of Aslaug. Sorry, Bjorn.  

Warnings: some brief mentions of abusive/unhealthy past relationships, reader has some insecurities, the brothers being the best roomies ever but also creepers, like one or two swear words, FLUFFY GOODNESS!!! 

Words: 3700

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

 (picture is from Pinterest. Not mine.)

The sound of laughter echoed around you even before leaving your bedroom. It was a Sunday night so that meant the Lothbrok brothers were all over. A tradition Ubbe started some months ago to make sure the four brothers stayed connected in each other's lives. Every Sunday evening, all of them would congregate in the three bedroom flat you shared with Ubbe and Hvitserk. They would order a stack of pizzas and enough beer to put a pub crawl to shame, and watch movies or play video games until the early morning hours. Only twice had fist fights broken out between Sigurd and Ivar with just a table and a lamp damaged in the process, so Ubbe called it a win. 

 It had only been about a year that you lived with Ubbe and Hvitserk. Sigurd chose to move in with a couple members of the band he played in. Aslaug vehemently refused to let Ivar move out due to his many medical needs that she claimed he could only receive proper attention for at home. In equal parts rebellion and to escape his mother’s suffocating attention, Ivar spent the majority of his free time and nights crashing on the couch at your shared flat. 

 At first, you were hesitant about living with the two brothers, having only known them through friends, but you decided to give it a chance. Within a couple of months, you found the strange dynamics of your shared space and your vastly different relationships with each of the brothers to feel eerily familiar….like being home. 

 Standing at your door, you listened to the brothers for a few moments, smiling broadly as you heard Hvitserk taunting Sigurd about how he was going to beat his ass if he threw another blue shell at him. Meanwhile Ivar was yelling something about the undeniable magic of Yoshi and his winning streak. They must be playing Mario Kart again. 

 It was nice to hear them all getting along. Normally Sunday nights you hung out with your boyfriend to give the brothers privacy, even though all of them repeatedly told you it was unnecessary. That was until last week. You had taken a selfie on your boyfriend's phone and went to set it as his background to surprise him….and found nude pictures of other girls and the dick pics he sent them back. Before you stormed out of his flat, you may have thrown his phone against the wall, pleased when the screen shattered just like your trust. Then you came home and cried to Hvitserk about how you were swearing off men and just wanted to be a spinster for the rest of your life. 

 Word must have spread between the brothers. For the rest of the week, they all offered their support in various ways. Sigurd texted you a few times to check on you and remind you that clearly you were better off without your ex. Ubbe gave you long hugs as if trying to soak the pain out of you, and made sure you were eating and getting out of bed. Hvitserk surprised you with a new sugary treat every day ranging from Oreos to ice cream to chocolate muffins; then you two would cuddle on the couch indulging yourselves while watching movies. Ivar threatened to beat up your now ex-boyfriend for making you cry and take pictures to send to those girls your ex had been texting. You made sure to shut Ivar's idea down quickly but pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and thanked him for offering. You hated your ex, that did not mean you wanted him dead. 

 You pushed away from your door and down the hallway. Popping your head around the corner, you saw the brothers in various positions in the living room, eyes all glued to the TV and the race happening on-screen. 

 "I'm gonna shower." You announced, receiving grunts of affirmations as they were too focused to fully acknowledge you. Smiling at their antics, you headed into the bathroom, shutting the door and starting the shower up. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, you stripped and jumped in. Of course, once the mixture of hot water and steam helped you relax, you started singing to yourself, letting the worries of the day fade away for just a moment as the words flowed from your lips and echoed off the shower stall walls like your own little stage. 

 Unbeknownst to you, as soon as the bathroom door shut and the sound of water running could be heard, the volume on the TV was muted. 

 Ivar, surprisingly, was the first one to overhear your singing. He had come over to crash for a few hours after his latest doctor appointment and to work on an assignment for a University class. The bathroom door somehow had not fully latched when you closed it, cracking open while you were in the shower….and you started singing. Ivar sat stunned on the couch at the voice slipping out of the bathroom like a siren's song. He remained there, transfixed as you sang some song he had never heard but he could feel in his chest. Once you stopped singing and the shower turned off, he quickly jumped up and hobbled over to silently shut the door, slightly embarrassed by the idea of you catching him listening in to your shower singing. 

 Later that day after you headed out to work, Ivar asked Ubbe and Hvitserk if they had heard you sing yet. Both of them denied ever hearing you sing. When asked if he knew anything, Sigurd was upset, having asked you on multiple nights to go to a karaoke bar with him and some friends. You always refused by saying you sounded Iike a beached whale. 

 Ubbe was next to overhear. He was walking by the bathroom on the way to the kitchen when he heard your voice drifting from underneath the bathroom door. Feeling like a creeper but curiosity winning out, he pressed his ear to the bathroom door to listen better. To say he had been shocked was an understatement. Sure, he had heard Ivar praise your voice, but he figured his youngest brother was exaggerating. It made him wonder why you never sang in front of others. 

 A silent pact was made between the brothers that they would never share the information of your singing with anyone outside the four of them….and whenever you jumped in the shower, whoever was the closest would go and crack the bathroom door open so they could hear you better. 

 This time was no different. 

 Sigurd was closest, so after Ubbe paused the game, he jumped up and silently cracked open the door so your beautiful voice could flow out. The game picked back up but remained on mute so they could hear you. The first song you serenaded them with was Walk Me Home by Pink. Apparently, one of your new favorites since you sang it so often. Next was Someone Like You by Adele. By the third song, the brothers had abandoned the game and were solely focused on you and the raw emotion bleeding from your voice. This time you started to sing Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.  

 Ubbe spoke up, keeping his voice quiet just in case you could hear them, however unlikely. "Has she said anything about her ex lately?"

 "Not to me." Hvitserk answered first. "I thought she was doing fine."

 "Just because she's not crying all the time doesn't mean she's fine." Ivar retorted harshly, never removing his eyes from the direction of the bathroom. After a moment, he got up and hobbled towards the bathroom. 

 "Ivar…. Ivar, what are you doing?" Ubbe hissed but was ignored. 

 As quiet as possible, Ivar walked into the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid; your singing managed to cover the sounds of his movement. As he rolled his head to the side, it was to find his brothers had followed him with varying expressions ranging from concern to amusement. 

 Normally you did not spend so long in the shower but today you decided to spoil yourself. You had been doing well all week but this morning you were scrolling through your Instagram and happened to stumble upon a picture of your ex with a new girl, smiling happily and kissing at a restaurant…. the day after you broke up. And seeing them together felt like it ripped a tear into the slowly healing pieces of your heart. 

 Instead of going out like you planned to do, you laid in bed all-day binge-watching movies and feeling like an idiot. So in the shower you took extra time pampering yourself, using a deep conditioner in your hair, shaving everywhere and just letting the hot water cascade down your skin and loosen the tense muscles. 

 At this point you were feeling a little better and decided it was best not to waste any more water. You turned the water off, running your hands down your body to get as much excess water off, before you reached for your towel. Grabbing the plush towel hanging on the rack, you quickly dried your hair and wrapped the towel around your body before pulling the curtain back….

 Only to shriek as you realized you were not alone in the bathroom. 

 "What? What are you guys doing?" You demanded, eyes frantically darting between the four brothers.

 Ivar sat on the toilet lid; head tilted as he watched you with a peculiar expression on his face. Hvitserk leaned against the sink, eyes darting from your towel-clad body to the floor then back up. Ubbe and Sigurd stood in the doorway, both looking the least comfortable but still not moving. 

 "We, ah, we were…. well, we are concerned for you." Ubbe said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 "Concerned?" You asked incredulously. 

 Ivar ignored your question. "Is this about your ex? Want me to pay him a visit?"

 "What are you talking about?"

 "Your singing. They were sad songs." Sigurd answered, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

 Heat flooded your face. You dropped your head, staring at the bathroom floor as you clutched the towel closer to your body. Honestly, the idea of them hearing your singing was far more humiliating than them seeing you naked at this point. "You…. you heard me…. singing?"

 "Y/n, are you OK? You know you can tell us anything." Hvitserk said, trying to meet your eye. 

 "Um, can…. can we talk about this when…. when I'm not naked?" 

 "Of course. Come on, brothers." Ubbe quickly agreed, tapping the door as if to signal. He and Sigurd walked away first. Only when you finally met Hvitserk's eye did he push off the sink and head out but not before giving you a flirty wink. 

 "Ivar…."

 He slouched back, folding his hands behind his head. "I'm quite comfortable here."

 "Oh gods, please, Ivar." You begged, almost on the verge of tears. 

 He stared at you a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. "Don't think you're getting out of this."

 "Ok."

 Appeased, he made his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

 Once alone, you stepped out of the shower only to drop onto the toilet lid and place your head in your hands. Your chest heaved and your eyes stung as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Today was bad enough and now this. It had to be something out of a nightmare. Your own personal hell. 

 When you finally composed yourself, you quickly changed into your comfiest sweats and tank top. You wished you could make a run for your room, anything to avoid the impending conversation but you knew the brothers would follow, they were all stubborn and persistent when they wanted to be. 

 With a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the living room. What hushed disagreement the brothers were clearly having abruptly ended when they noticed you. Awkwardly you remained standing, unsure where to sit. The only open spots were on the couch between Hvitserk and Ivar or one of the recliners as Ubbe sat in the other one. Sigurd reclined on the rocker gaming chair on the floor. 

 Averting your eyes, you started towards the open recliner only to have a strong arm snake around your waist as you passed by and pulled you onto the couch. You squeaked as you suddenly found yourself perched on Ivar's lap. Somewhere you had certainly never been before. 

 "Where do you think you're going?" He asked, a cocky grin spread across his face. 

 "Um, over there." You nodded your head towards the other open spot. 

 "No, you're sitting here now."

 "Stop hogging her, brother." Hvitserk reached over and dragged you off Ivar. Somehow you ended up with your back against Hvitserk's side, his arm slung around you and your legs across Ivar's lap, him slowly running his hand up and down them. 

 Ubbe raised an eyebrow at the three of you. "Are you done yet?"

 "I thought we were just fine but I guess Hvitty had other plans." Ivar snarked, rolling his eyes. 

 "We're good now." Hvitserk said with a cheesy smile, making you giggle. 

 "So how are you really doing, y/n?" Ubbe asked, staring at you with those knowing blue eyes. 

 "Um, I'm alright. Today was just…. rough." At the four questioning looks, you quickly explained about what you found this morning on Instagram. 

 Ivar slapped the armrest of the couch. "I'm beating his ass now and nothing you say can stop me."

 You snagged his other hand that was still on your leg and clasped it, as if that alone could diminish his deadly intent. "Please don't. He's not worth it. I just…. I just want to move on. Ok?"

 He grumbled, but eventually gripped your hand and gave it a single squeeze in acknowledgement. 

 Now here was the part that petrified you; but you needed to know. 

 "Um, how…. how long have…. was this your first time?" Your words stumbled out, making you cringe at how ineloquent it was. 

 "What are you talking about?" Sigurd drawled; one foot propped up so he slowly rocked in the gaming chair.  

 You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. You dropped your gaze, as you whispered your answer. "My….my singing."

 "What? You sound bloody brilliant! The others have heard you more than me but you always sound amazing!" Sigurd exclaimed, a beaming smile on his face. "I don't know why you haven't gone out with me before! Oh! I'd love for you to try and sing in my band, we could use an amazing vocalist like you! Gods, we could get way more gigs with a beautiful woman like you upfront singing."

 Soon as Sigurd started talking, you covered your face with your hands. The tears you managed to repress earlier flooded back. Your shoulders hunched over, cowering into yourself at the revelation. They had all heard you. Apparently more than just this one time. It was mortifying. Long ago you stopped singing in front of others, no longer able to face the ridicule, the degrading comments always thrown your way. And now, these brothers that you had become so close to…. if they said anything negative towards you right now, you were sure your heart would fully break and no lyric would ever pass your lips again. 

 Hvitserk shifted behind you, turning you so he could wrap both arms around your waist and place his cheek against the side of your head. "Y/n, talk to us." 

 You shook your head, the barely suppressed tears and poisoned words clogging your throat. 

 Abruptly, a pair of calloused hands grabbed yours, forcing them away from your face. You were immediately met by a pair of piercing blue eyes, only inches from your face. 

 "Whose ass am I killing now? Huh?" Ivar demanded in a low, menacing tone. Between his tone and the fury burning in his eyes, you knew he meant his question, and that sent a nervous chill down your spine. 

 "It's not…. it’s nothing."

 "Bullshit." Ivar spat. 

 Hvitserk nuzzled your temple, his voice lighter but still with an edge of steel in it. "I agree with Ivar. Something happened."

 Biting your bottom lip, you closed your eyes. There were a few things that were just too painful to talk about and this one, they had unknowingly stumbled upon. 

 "Was it your mother?"

 Your eyes flew open, your head snapped over to stare at Ubbe in shock. He met your gaze unflinchingly, and somehow you knew he already figured at least part of it out. He accidentally overheard a phone conversation between you and your mother one time and once you got off the phone, he immediately pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and promised you never had to see her again if you never wanted to, that they would take care of you. Of course, you cried all over him after he promised that. 

 Ubbe leaned forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees, gaze still intent on you. "What did she do?"

 "She…. she hated when I sang. Said I was just desperate for attention. That I needed to just shut up. That no one would want to listen to me anyway. If she ever caught me singing…. once she duct-taped my mouth shut."

 You could hear the gasps at your confession, followed by a round of curses. Hvitserk pressed a kiss to your temple, tightening his hold on you. Ivar squeezed your hands, still holding them within his own. 

 Ubbe nodded as if not surprised. He ran a hand down his face and sighed before stealing your gaze once again. "I have a feeling she wasn't the only one to hurt you."

 At this point, a silent tear trekked down your cheek. You sniffled, dropping your gaze down. "I had an ex who used to make fun of my singing. He used to say 'at least you're pretty'. When we would ride together listening to music, he would tell me to stop singing and 'leave it to the professionals'. At some point, it just….it was better to not sing in front of anyone. So I only sang in the shower cause I thought no one would hear me."

 Hvitserk turned your head, looking into your eyes. "Baby, listen to me. Your singing is incredible. We all love listening to you sing. Please don't be embarrassed about this with us."

 "I'd love for you to walk around the house singing, I could happily listen to that all day." Ubbe said, a tender smile on his lips. 

 "I second that!" 

 "Sig, you're only here on Sundays." Ubbe glanced over at his brother. 

 Sigurd shrugged. "So? I could listen to her sing all day. Maybe she should move in with me and actually be appreciated."

 "No! You're not stealing her from us!" Hvitserk said, practically cradling you against him, like a puppy afraid to lose its favorite toy.

 "It's not stealing if she wants to go!" 

 Ivar butted in. "I am more interested in this other shitty ex and mother...can I find them?"

 "No, Ivar. You have to stop threatening people."

 "Why?" He whined at you, tugged on your hands, your legs still across his lap. "You won't let me teach them a lesson so all I can do is threaten."

 "Also sounds like you have terrible taste in guys. Anymore shitty exes we should know about?" Sigurd asked, rocking his chair. 

 You figured at this point you were spilling all your dirty secrets so what was one more. "Um, I was talking to this one guy but when he found out I moved in here, he called me a whore for moving in with two brothers and told me I was a waste of his time." You softly admitted, having made sure none of them ever heard about that after it happened. 

 For a moment there was dead silence then….

 "I'm going to need his name right now." Ubbe said, malice dripping off every word. 

 "Yeah! Let's cut his tongue out! See what he says about that!" Ivar cheered. 

 You could not stop the laughter that came out. The idea that these brothers got so worked up over anyone that ever insulted or hurt you was both sweet and slightly infuriating, but mostly sweet. No one had ever cared about you as strongly as these four brothers. 

 "It's fine now. How about this? Next guy to hurt me, I promise I'll give you his name."

 "No! I want to cut this asshole's tongue out. Maybe slap him with it after!" Ivar smiled with a pure predatory look. 

 "I think you should just date one of us." Sigurd shrugged, watching everyone with a smirk. "Then you know he'd treat you right."

 "I like this idea." Hvitserk smiled, squeezing you lightly. "We would romance the hell out of you."

 "You guys are being silly. I don't even know what romance would look like." You giggled at the absurd idea. All the brothers were gorgeous in their own ways and could pick up any girl they wanted, why would they want you? Besides, your relationships were just platonic. "Is the interrogation over now? Want me to leave so you can get back to your game?"

 "Nope, you're stuck here." Ivar said, leaning on you now so you were sandwiched between the two brothers. 

 Ubbe chuckled. "We've told you before, you are welcome to hang out with us. Why don't we put in a movie?"

 After many arguments and some mild threats, a movie was finally chosen. You settled against Hvitserk, facing the TV, as you played with Ivar's hair, his head now in your lap. 

 As you watched the movie, you missed the silent conversation between the brothers happening around you. It was decided that your next boyfriend would certainly be one of them and in the meantime, they were all going to romance the hell out of you and make sure you understood how important and incredible you are. 

 Starting with making sure you sang whenever you wanted. 

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

Tiger and Bunny fic? Tiger and Bunny fic.

~

It was far too early in the morning when he awoke to chill air seeping under his blanket. He scowled and clung tighter to the warm body in his arms, which continued to squirm despite his best efforts.

“Gotta piss,” grumbled a familiar voice, and his eyes snapped open.

Oh. Oh no.

Barnaby yanked his hands away and scrabbled for his glasses, staring in horror at his bedmate. Without his glasses, he couldn’t make out the details--but the voice, and the scent of beer, sweat, and expensive aftershave, and the way he had felt so safe tucked up against the other’s side, was all he needed to know that he had just been cuddling his best friend.

“What the hell,” he said stupidly when the frames were firmly on his face.

Kotetsu stretched like a--well, like a lazy tiger, and yawned enormously. “G’morning to you too, Bunny,” he replied, and rolled out of bed. He looked amused and… and kind, when he turned back to Barnaby. “Merry Christmas, by the way,” Kotetsu added.

Then he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Barnaby’s forehead before ambling out of the room, scratching his head.

Barnaby remained frozen for a long moment. He was very aware of the current situation, but was having a hard time remembering how this had happened. He was fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes, minus his belt and socks; Kotetsu was in a pair of his sweats, but no shirt. They had been asleep curled together, and Barnaby’s cheek was very cold after being pressed to Kotetsu’s bare shoulder for hours. In fact, if Barnaby didn’t know it was a horrible idea, he would’ve probably demanded Kotetsu return so he could have his living teddy bear back.

He felt no tension or anger at Kotetsu being in his home, wearing his clothes, looking perfectly content.

“What the hell,” he said again.

Kotetsu returned at that moment, and paused in the doorway, frowning. Barnaby stared back. He felt slow and stuck and like he needed a hug. He couldn’t make himself say that.

With a sigh, Kotetsu walked over, sat on the edge of the bed, grasped Barnaby’s hands, and asked him, “What do you remember last?”

Barnaby blinked. “Ah. I… I remember Uncle Maverick’s Christmas Eve party,” he said, then frowned. Why did his heart ache? And why was he remembering that party? He hadn’t met Kotetsu before that, had he? No, of course not--the party had been when he was six. He looked around the bedroom, and time started slotting together again. Of course. This was his 37th Christmas. He was a Hero in Sternbild, and Kotetsu was his partner. Was he? No, Kotetsu was part of the second tier now. Because his powers--

Barnaby flinched, and Kotetsu pulled him into a hug. “What else do you remember?” the older man asked softly.

It took several moments for Barnaby to collect himself enough to answer. “Everything up until--until he died.”

“Ah. Alright.” Kotetsu’s hand rubbed Barnaby’s back soothingly, his presence more comforting than Barnaby’s parents’. “It’s okay, Bunny. You don’t have to force it. You do have to come eat something, though. Last night was pretty rough.”

So Barnaby allowed Kotetsu to help him stand, then lead him by the hand to the kitchen. There was furniture here, that he didn’t remember--no, he did remember, now. Nathan gave him that loveseat. Ivan and Pao Lin had built that table. Karina had insisted on the beautiful dining room chairs.

A memory of Kotetsu kissing him breathless on the loveseat made Barnaby swallow hard, embarrassed beyond measure. That was nothing compared to the mortification of remembering how Kotetsu had made him laugh as he came from just the other’s warm, clever hands.

It was with the first sip of coffee that Barnaby felt himself land firmly in the present. He remembered now. Last night he’d had too much beer, and didn’t feel safe taking his medicine; but it had been Christmas Eve, and he was already in danger of slipping. So Kotetsu had stayed. And Barnaby found himself wondering once more why he had waited a year to tell the idiot he loved him.

Barnaby looked up. Kotetsu was watching him closely. After a moment, the older man grinned, and Barnaby wondered how he’d ever been so stupid as to not realize that Kotetsu had already known.

“Alright now, Bunny?” Kotetsu asked, reaching up to cup Barnaby’s cheek with his hand.

“Yes.” Bunny smiled back, and kissed Kotetsu’s wrist. “I’m alright, kitten.”

The indignant spluttering only stopped when Barnaby kissed his husband’s lips, and remembered that he was safe.

[fandom-took-my-sanity]

Man’s Best Friend

Natasha was reading on the couch, Liho curled up beside her, when Clint burst through the door.

The cat jumped off the couch and ran to hide in the bedroom. Natasha glared at Clint.

“We were having a nice moment! I actually got her to relax for once, but then-“ Natasha stopped talking, as she noticed what Clint was doing.

He was standing in the doorway, leaning over awkwardly, and trying to counsel what looked like…

A dog?

Before Natasha could fully comprehend what was happening, the dog pushed past Clint, and leaped over the coffee table, landing with all its force on Nat’s lap. The dog started licking her face, as she put up her arms to shield herself.

“Clint, what is this?” She demanded, peering around the dog to stare at him, her face stone cold.

“I- well, it’s um…a dog?” Clint looked sheepish.

“And why is it in our apartment?” Natasha prompted.

“Because he was out in the street, Tasha! And he looked cold and alone and it’s Christmas. I couldn’t just leave him there, he was standing at the door of a pizza place, and he looked so sad. Look at him Nat, he’s completely harmless!” The dog was wagging his tail now, and looking hopefully at Natasha (if dogs can even look hopeful).

“Clint,” she sighed, “we have a cat. I don’t think that this will go over well.”

“Can we just keep him for a few days, please? Then we can see if he belongs to somebody, or take him to the humane society.” Clint pleaded.

“Fine, but I’m keeping Liho away from him.” Natasha gave in. Clint rushed over to the couch to hug her, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

“I swear you won’t regret this!” He said, rushing to grab his coat and change his shoes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go buy some things for our new friend.”

>>>

The next week passed in a blur. Clint and Natasha called local shelters to see if anyone knew this dog, but they came up with nothing. They took him to the vet to see if he had a chip, but again, no luck. It seemed like he wasn’t anyone’s dog. Which means, Natasha thought, he’s probably ours.

They were walking back from the vet, through the busy streets of New York. The city was beautiful at this time of year. All the lights and bright colors, the cheer and seasons greetings. Natasha loved it all.

She was walking hand in hand with Clint, who was holding onto the dog’s collar. He turned to look at her.

“I think we ought to name him.” He announced.

Natasha didn’t know if that was the best idea. As soon as you named something, you started getting attached to it. Not that Clint wasn’t attached already, this dog was quickly becoming his best friend. And if Natasha admitted it to herself, she was starting to get attached to him as well. So she gave in.

“Alright, what do you want to name him?”

“How about Howie?” Clint asked.

“Ew, no. Why would you name a dog Howie?” She said.

“Fine, fine, what about Fido?”

“You mean the most basic dog name ever? No thanks,” Clint’s ideas were so terrible, Natasha decided to try some of her own.

“I like Teddy,” she suggested, “it’s simple, but it’s cute.”

“Uh, pass,” Clint responded.

“What, why?”

“Because it’s also super common!” He said.

“Well, then what about Milo?”

“Does he look like a Milo to you?”

They looked down at the dog, but at that second, he decided that he was going to break free of Clint’s grasp on his leash, and take off down the street. Natasha and Clint looked at each other, panic on their faces, before beginning to chase after him.

He ran for four blocks until he stopped in front of a storefront. Clint and Natasha were still catching up, and when they finally got there, Clint picked the leash up again and held it in a death grip. He reached down and patted the dog's head.

“You had us worried there buddy,” he said, as Natasha reached over to let him as well.

They looked up at the store he had stopped in front of and discovered that it was a pizza place.

“Hey, this is where I found him last week!” Clint exclaimed, looking at the dog, and smiling, “You must like the smell.”

Natasha swore that he wagged his tail faster at that. She read the name of the restaurant.

“Lucky’s Pizza, huh, that’s a cute name.” She said.

Clint looked at her quizzically.

“Clint, what if we call him Lucky?” She asked.

He thought for a moment, looking at the dog.

“I think that’s the perfect name,” he decided, “Lucky. Lucky the pizza dog.”

In response, the dog-Lucky wagged his tail and looked up at them with what could only be described as a smile.

They continued their walk home, both happy to have Lucky as a part of their family.

But how would Liho react?

>>>

It was Christmas Eve, and Clint and Natasha were in the kitchen, making dinner. Kate and Yelena were coming over and they wanted to make it as festive as possible. Natasha was in the bedroom putting earrings on when Clint called from the kitchen.

“Hey Nat, have you seen Lucky?”

She returned to the kitchen to answer him.

“No, I haven’t. But he can’t have gotten far. This isn’t a very big apartment.” she went into the living room to look.

“He’s got to be around here somewhere,” she was saying, “we just have to look.”

But her search was over as soon as it began because as she rounded the corner and looked into the living room, there was Lucky on the couch. Curled up with Liho. Natasha smiled.

“Hey babe, come look at this.” She called softly. Clint walked into the room, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“They look so peaceful,” he whispered, smiling at the sleeping animals, and Natasha nodded.

Liho usually wasn’t so open to new people, much less new animals, but Natasha figured that Lucky had won her over. If Liho trusted him, then she guessed that he could stay.

Maybe this dog wasn’t so bad after all.

(Read on AO3)