#ill be wailing in my room under my bed

[tojipie]

I'm a huge fan of your work and I would love to see a dilf!toji fan fiction where you accidentally walk in on him changing and it goes a bit further while megumi's home🙏🙏🙏

part 1 here

shaking crying and throwing up as the kids say

warnings: dilf!toji x reader, nsfw, almost getting caught, age gap

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“think that’s it for tonight.” megumi mumbles, turning the newly painted mound of clay to the side to gauge your shared work.

it goes without saying that you and your closest friend had spent the weeks leading up to the deadline planning, but not actually doing your final sculpting project, leading to an equally desperate and passive aggressive all-nighter.

you both of you were absolutely caked in paint, but the satisfaction of finally being done was well worth it. you stand up for the first time in over 4 hours, hissing at they way your back protests.

your feet tingle as blood rushes down to your legs, the aches in your body becoming more apartment.

“god, what is it— like 11?” you ask, massaging your neck with the back of your hand.

megumi grabs his phone to look at the time, scratching off a smear of dried pain with a scoff.

“it’s 1 am.” he laughs, tucking the device into his pocket with a sigh. “you ubering home or do you want my dad to take you?”

you perk up at the second option, gathering yourself before you respond.

“i mean yeah i feel like that’d be a lot safer.” you say, only half lying. “is he still up?” you knew he was up, in fact you knew if you hadn’t been practically right outside his bedroom for the past 4 hours he’d be texting you right now.

your sculpting partner motions to the kitchen door with a nod of his head, wordlessly gathering his materials up. “go check, i’m going to bed.”

you laugh, gathering your things and padding out into the hall.

“nite gumi.” you tell him, hoping it wasn’t too late in the night for the both of you to get a decent nights sleep.

———

you secretly hope toji is waiting for you as you fix your makeup in the mirror, leaning down to meticulously washing the paint from your hands and arms in an attempt to look presentable.

megumi hadn’t noticed it was you in his father’s bed the last time you snuck over, taking toji’s sly suggestion to “drive his little friend home” as an ill intended joke.

he opted to drive himself to the concert instead, accepting the ridiculous $100 venue parking fee in exchange for his peace of mind.

you, on the other hand, had gotten the opportunity to wail your lungs out as loud as you needed once the house was empty, going round-for-round with the massive wall of muscle that was your best friend’s dad.

and now, here you were in his bathroom, washing up in the sink as quickly as you could before feeding yourself to the lion.

you slip into the dark hallway as quietly as you can manage, cringing at the stale creak of the bathroom door.

the house is barely lit with the dim light from the kitchen gone. you figure megumi had shut it off before going to bed, thinking you and toji had already left.

you feel your way down the corridor of rooms, silently opening the door to your destination before stopping cold in your tracks.

“you should knock ya’know.” a deep voice crones.

you yelp as you’re pulled into his bedroom, the sound muffled by a solid hand over your mouth.

“shhhhh.” toji chuckles, caging you against the door. the older man leans down to mouth at your neck, feeling you up as you catch your breath.

“you have a real volume problem, pretty girl.” he teases.

you laugh, cradling his head as it settles in the curve of your neck. his shirt is half off already, bunched around his shoulders. you must’ve caught him changing.

“what, were you waiting on me?”

“men have needs don’t they?” he says quietly, leaning in to kiss you.

thick hands settle around the curve of your waist just under your breasts and pull you backwards, leading you towards the bed.

“was—fuck—gonna text you.” toji whispers between kisses, palming your chest underneath your shirt. the older man pulls you into his lap from where he sits on the edge of the mattress, rucking your shirt above your head to mouth at the top of your breasts.

“yeah? why didn’t you?”

“knew you’d come find me.”

your cheeks burn at his admission. he was right, as embarrassing as it was you both knew how often you found yourself under him on nights like these.

and whether or not you’d begun hanging out at megumi’s just to see his dad was a question you didn’t want to address, and one that toji already knew the answer to.

you say nothing, opting to palm the man below you through his boxers while he finally undresses his top half. toned abs clench tight as you squeeze his cock through the fabric, guided only by the small sliver of moonlight bleeding from his curtains.

“harder.” he groans, bucking into your hand.

“miss me?”

“always miss you.” toji mumbles, motioning for you to stand so he can strip you of your bottoms.

you’re pulled on top of him as soon as your shorts hit the floor, leaning in to kiss him again. the older man licks into your mouth with fervor, toying with the waistline of your thin panties.

toji breaks the kiss, snapping the elastic against your hip. you flinch at the sharp sting, whimpering into his neck as he grips your ass

“you wear these for me?” he asks.

you nod, letting him slip them off. he gives them a once over, smiling as he reaches to throw them onto the night stand.

“keeping em.” he laughs, pulling himself free from the confines of his bottoms.

he’s throbbing, steadily leaking onto his own thigh with every passing second. you lean down to accept him into your mouth, pausing when he pulls you back up to him.

“just get on top of me.” he begs, grabbing hold of the backs of your thighs and reclining into the pillows.

“need it that bad?” you ask, genuinely curious. you watch as he grabs hold of his cock, lining it up with ease—practically muscle memory.

“wouldn’t need it this bad—oh fuck— if you hadn’t been busy the entire night.” he groans, complaint interrupted by the feeling of you sinking down onto him.

“could fuck me when the sun’s out, you wouldn’t have to wait all day that way.” you suggest, only half serious.

“the only thing stopping me from doing that is work, pretty girl.” toji mumbles. you gasp as he twitches inside you, sinking down all the way to watch what little composure he still has crumble.

your knees protest as you bounce on the older man’s cock, body still sore from the workload you’d dealt with earlier.

“you could’ve just—fuck— came out and said hi.” you add, noticing the way the scar on his lip contorts when he smiles.

“can’t really walk around with a hard-on.” he admits with a sleazy grin, taking one of your breasts into his mouths for good measure.

your shared moans grow louder with every thrust, the sound of skin-on-skin becoming unmistakable.

“fuck is that noise?” a sleepy voice yells from the hallway.

you freeze. pulling away from toji to gauge his reaction.

“fuck, get underneath.” he chuckles, practically pulling you off of his cock with how easily he manhandles you, making space for you to crawl into the sheets.

you’re struck with what feels like another heart attack as a knock at the door pierces the air.

“do you have another girl over?” megumi scoffs pacing behind the doorway.

“you sleepwalking or something?” toji lies, clearly not considering the consequences of getting caught.

you feel him pull the sheets over your head with a soft laugh. warm hands rubbing over your sides through the thin fabric, a sweet attempt at calming you down.

“i’m not stupid.” his son replies, kicking the foot of the door for good measure. “did you even drive my friend home?”

“she ubered, kid.” toji lies again, groping your breast over the thin sheet. you yelp at the sudden contact, earning a teasing “shhhh” from the man above you.

“fucking knew you brought someone over.” megumi sighs, trudging down the hallway with vague threats of “you’re paying for my dorm room next year.” and “can’t keep it down.”

you emerge from the covers, arms snaking around toji’s shoulders with a sigh of relief.

“what’d i tell you about that volume problem?” he laughs, lowering you onto his still hard cock with a breathy groan.

“fuck, did you get wetter or somethin?” he asks, clearly in disbelief.

“course not!” you mouth, stifling a whimper as he begins to thrust.

“i know honey.” he teases, biting the curve of your shoulder to stifle a groan. “i’m just fuckin’ with you.”

#adah’s asks #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji fluff #toji drabbles #toji hcs #toji x reader fluff #toji x fem reader #dilf toji #dilf toji x reader #dilf!toji x reader #jjk #dilf toji x reader fluff #dilf!toji #toji x reader smut #toji x fem reader smut #toji smut

[dragon-ascent]

Paraphernalia

You are an avid collector of Rex lapis merch...and your husband is Rex Lapis himself.

★彡fluff, fun stuff, zhongli finds you amusing as always

Zhongli had revealed his identity to you much before you two had gotten married. You’d been very respectful and told him how much you admired him as both a man and a deity...but oh boy, if Zhongli thought that was where your devotion ended, he was in for a long ride.

“Oh my freaking gosh! Eeeee!”

At your squeal, Zhongli is immediately at your side. “What is the matter- ah.” He sees the pamphlet you’re holding and suddenly it all clicks into place. 

You clutch your husband’s arm, barely able to contain yourself. “New Rex Lapis plushie launching tomorrow! Eeeee! Let’s go down to the store as soon as it opens!”

Zhongli kisses your forehead, his heart fluttering at your enthusiasm. “Allow me to take a look.” He gently takes the pamphlet from your hands and peruses it, then looks up at the bed you two share...where you also keep your enormous pile of Rex Lapis plushies. “Erm...dear, what is different about this new one?”

“Look!” You point at what the new plushie is holding. “It comes with a free Mora coin plush! I haaaaave to get it!”

It’s worth it, really. There’s nothing Zhongli cherishes more than seeing you happy. And when he finds you the next day curled up in bed, napping away with your brand-new Rex Lapis plushie pressed to your chest, he finds his heart melting like the sweetest chocolate on a summer day.

Of course, with how fanatical you get sometimes, you get so caught up in all your Rex Lapis paraphernalia that you almost forget who Zhongli really is...

“I’m doomed! I have blasphemed!”

“Did you sit on the lap of one of the Statues of the Seven again, dear?” Zhongli inquires without even looking up from the morning paper. “I told you, it does not count as-”

“Even worse! The new glow-in-the-dark Rex Lapis keychains are all sold out and I missed my chance to buy them!”

At this, Zhongli gazes at you sympathetically as you huff and puff around the room, equal parts agitated and distressed. He knows how much your collection means to you. “I see. Well, you can get one when they restock, can you not?”

“No way!” you cry out, staring at Zhongli like he had just grown horns and a tail. “The restocked keychains will be B-grade ones! I need to own only first-edition, top-quality merch!”

“Ah. Oh dear...” 

“What would Rex Lapis think?” you wail, flopping into your husband’s sturdy arms. “Rex Lapis, what do you think of me?”

“I don’t think ill of you, darling, I never could,” Zhongli assures, planting a soft kiss to your temple. “I still love you regardless of how many Rex Lapis-themed items you possess.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice!”

Zhongli chuckles. “I’m saying that because I love you, and married you for love. I never once wondered how many keychains in my image you obtained before I slid the ring onto your finger.”

Your lip wobbling, you ask, “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course I do, my beloved,” he answers softly, kissing the spot under your ear and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Come now, let me show you just how much.”

Of course, even when he offers you tender, affectionate consolation, Zhongli still ultimately wants to see you at your happiest. So wherever he can, he tries to pull some strings~

“Darling,” Zhongli calls after a long day of work. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home!” You run over to him and give him a peck on the lips. “How was your day?”

“Quite eventful,” he answers, “especially since I managed to procure a very important item.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “An important item? What is it?”

Zhongli smiles, holding out both of his hands, fists closed. “I shall let you find out.”

Utterly intrigued, you look at both closed fists, trying to gauge which one has the item. It must be quite small to fit in his palm...what important item could be that small? 

Pushing away the question since it was sure to be answered within a few moments, you go with your gut and pick the right hand. Zhongli’s smile widens and he opens his palm...

Gasping, you let out a squeal. “Is this...what I think it is?!”

“The very same.” 

Still in disbelief, you take the keychain and observe its details. “It - it really is a first edition glow-in-the-dark Rex Lapis keychain...oh my gosh...but how..?”

Zhongli pulls you into a hug, chuckling at they way you seem to vibrate in his arms in excitement. “I managed to get ahold of a scalper and...persuade him to sell it to me at regular price.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You beam, singing his praises while waving the keychain around happily. “I love Rex Lapis sooooo much!”

Your husband kisses you, practically glowing at your happiness. “Rex Lapis loves you too, my beloved.”

#zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #sini writes #zhongli x you #fluff #drabble #rex lapis

[spacesurfing]

Bullet Shells in My Brain

Anakin Skywalker x Reader Fluff/Angst

Summary: This war has taken it's toll on your mind and body, though it's almost like nobody has noticed. And you assumed that as a good thing. But Anakin noticed, Anakin loved you too much to not notice.

Warnings: Severe mental illness, depression, mentioning of war and death, do not read if any of these warnings make you uncomfortable

Requested!

•--•

The war. You blamed everything on the war now. Because as much as you shouldn't, it was the war. It was the war that ruined your life. It was the war that tore the galaxy apart with pure white gloves. Pure white gloves that had everyone else do it's bidding for them. Everyday started to feel pointless.

As a Jedi, you knew that your well-being was supposed to hold up. You were supposed to be better than this. You were supposed to be more stable than you are now. You weren't supposed to feel so numb.

We weren't getting to the core of the problem. If there was anything you knew, it was that we were so far from the solution. We were so lost. It felt like everyday, we almost got farther and farther from the solution to this war. You can't even remember why it had started. Can't remember the events that led for it to be so harsh.

But you knew someone that did. And when you told him those same words that echoed through your mind, he didn't see that chew marks in your mind, he didn't see how badly this war was eating at you. He offered up explanations to how it started. But you didn't wanna know anymore. Cause you knew it would make you throw up.

Anakin was everything to you. He was your best friend, the person you had clung to as a padawan. He was someone you admired for his unchallenged talent. You might've said that you both were something more, but you had never spoken about it, knowing the code and the rules you both had to abide to. But you could feel it - the spark people always spoke about when speaking of love.

You couldn't feel anything at all if it wasn't with him though. You went back to your dorm, to your room with blank walls and shelves with few trinkets that were of beauty to you. Or from Ani. And you laid in your bed and stared at your ceiling.

You used to lay down after missions or a long day and cry. When the war started, you used to cry. Cry till the muscles in your core felt like they were being separated, pulled apart like strings and crushed. You would cry until your face hurt and your eyes couldn't squeeze out tears. Till the only way you knew you were crying was by the choked out wails leaving your throat. And then like a wave, everything would crash. That last tear would slip down your cheek and curve under your chin. And your eyes would stay open, eyelashes soaking and eyebags growing fast. Your face would go still, as if you had died. Maybe you had in a way.

Like the last night you cried. You died that day. Some part of you was rotting from the inside out. You were a zombie walking, one with armor and a weapon. Like a bad fruit, you spoiled the others and killed their cells. It seemed like everyone died around you. It seemed like you weren't the only zombie, too.

But now, as you punched in a 4-digit code on the panel to the right side of your door, it opened to reveal the same room that bled you dry.

Every night this room killed you more.

You unhooked your lightsaber from your belt, placing it down on a console table that was next to the door. The plant centered on it gave you peace, a living thing that you were able to make thrive.

You couldn't have shed your armor faster, boots kicked to the floor, one laying perpendicular to the hard wood and the other parallel. The least you could do was hang your clothes the correct way, smoothing them out and slipping into baggy pants and a comfortable sweater.

Your eyes traveled to a mat sitting in the corner of your room, waiting for you, but no calling. You felt no draw to meditation anymore. Something you used to enjoy now felt like a mere memory. Ani liked forcing you to meditate, but he wouldn't allow you into your room when he prompted you to.

He knew how the cream walls eroded you.

You hesitated, feeling your heart clawing at itself and crying. It weeped for some magical fix to the way you felt. But there was no fixing this, nothing that could make you smile again, and nothing that could make you form bonds with the poor younglings that were only walking into death by being at the temple.

You sat down on your bed, the mattress dipping at your weight.

Civilians were been bombed during your last mission. The separatists killed children. You couldn't save them.

You stared at the crease of your wall, the wash of emotions forcing your eye bags heavier. They were getting too much to carry. You were drowning, them dragging you down to the bottom of the disorienting ocean.

A knock on your door made you flinch. It had been firm, enough to scare you out of your skin, standing up in a panic response. Your hands grasped your arms in a way to try to ground yourself before walking towards the door.

You didn't have to open it, really. But in your mind, you felt that this was a must moment.

You stood in front of it and pressed the grey button to open it with little hesitation. The mechanical noise made you look up at your visitor, and the sight of him made a tsunami of emotions flood you.

"Ani," you croaked, voice barely sturdy.

You cleared your throat, seeing the concern on his face. Anakin cared a lot, for you and for the people that surrounded him closely. But you didn't often see his eyebrows furrow in the way they did, looking at you like you were lost.

Maybe you were lost, void of anything that was true.

Anakin invited himself in, stepping towards you so you would, in turn, step back. The door closed behind him and it left you in a breathless silence. You felt a pang in your chest, Anakin looking around your room the same way you had when you entered earlier that night.

Anakin spoke your name softly, drawing your eyes to his own. They coated over with sadness. Maybe he was starting to hate the color cream as well.

"What's happening to you?" he asked, lips not even closing fully as he felt the mood in the room darken to a hazy gloom.

You shook your head, fingertips digging into your sweater sleeves, "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what mean," Anakin retorted. His voiced lacked the sternness it should've had, given that sentence. Instead, it was steady, "This isn't the first time I've felt this. I... Your mind has changed so much. This room used to be so bright, what's wrong?"

You felt yourself break. Out of the numbing feeling you felt in your bones, came a sudden sadness, one you would much rather have than no feeling at all.

Your arms went rigid where they hugged each other but your legs felt weak. Your eyes heated and glistened over with feeling and your chin pushed at your bottom lip. Your head already started to ache from the way the muscles in your face shifted so drastically.

Anakin knew when he was needed. And he knew that all you could've asked for in this vulnerable moment was him. So, Anakin did what he did best in these moments and he grabbed onto you by your arms and held you in his own. His biceps pressed against the sides of your arms while his elbows bent to hug you, hands placed flat on your back. One hand pressed itself against the back of your head, fingers spread through your hair and held you to his chest, cheek ironed to him. His chin rested over your head, allowing you to fit into the slots of his body where you belonged.

When you wrapped your arms around his waist instead of clawing at the cloth covering you, it felt like you were made to cry in his arms in some weird, corrupt thought. You were perfect against him, and the way your tears stained his Jedi attire, you felt a connection you had never felt, one that woke you up from your depression.

You seemed to press tighter into him, grounding yourself to the Coruscant planet through the means of his torso. Your whole body shook with sobs and your cheeks were stained with the time having passed from grappling onto him. He was so steady for you, and you admired him as being your rock. You could never thank him, you could never.

"Please don't leave me," you babbled, words mindlessly leaving you as you sharply inhaled a lung-full of air, your chest letting out a broken wail.

Anakin smoothed out your hair, petting it down to your back as he listened to the words slip from your mouth. In a heart-broken response, he said your name, "I'm not leaving you. I'm staying right here, I promise. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

He placed his hand on the hair over your neck and held you steady to him. You pressed your nose into his clothes, taking in the distinct smell he had and the feeling of his warmth against your face.

"Just.. Just don't leave... I can't..." you hiccuped, "I can't do this without you."

The aura of the room finally made sense. The corners that seemed to dark for the way you used to smile. The objects that would constantly shift due to you picking them up to reminisce, now were always in the same place and tended to collect dust. Your meditation mat that always seemed cold made sense. Even the paint set you kept, gifted from Ani, sat dormant - the exact activity you called out to when you were upset.

It all made sense now, now that you were clinging to Anakin Skywalker like he was the only thing keeping your joints from splitting and your body from cracking in two.

Anakin knew the pressure that was holding you down; it wasn't something they had taught you as a naïve padawan. They never taught you about the way something like a war would destroy you wholly.

"I need you," you cried, sobs matching the wracking of your body, a sort of cry that only came from pure hurt, "I can't do this alone... you're all I have."

Anakin leaned his head down, feeling his own head become fuzzy from the words that you spoke into his chest. He pressed his lips to the top of your head in a kiss that made your body warm and tired, but the crying seemed endless. He broke you out of your trance, guiding your body to your bed before he sat down. Your arms were tore from him, and you almost felt like a helpless child when you looked at him. But Anakin scooted up to the pillows near the headboard, holding your arms to drag you onto the bed softly.

Your knees hit the bed, only seconds before your body did. You latched onto him again, hugging around his torso. You did never want him to leave, you didn't want to come to, to realize you couldn't hold onto him forever. He couldn't always be your anchor.

But he would try like maker to be that for you. He held you gently, one hand on your head, pressing so meaningfully against your face. Your leg hooked his waist, pressing your body to his side as he cuddled you a sweetheart would his lover.

But it stopped your sobbing, and it made you feel tender love. Tender love that you returned.

"I'm right here," he spoke in a mere whisper, words travelling through the air and echoing like a firefly light.

You knew he was telling the truth. Yes, of course you should know he was here, but the words meant more. The words meant he would be here, that as much as he could be away on a different planet or stuck in a meeting he couldn't leave, he was here for you.

His hand rubbed at your cheeks, letting your tears soak into the skin of his thumb. You stared into his distracted eyes, finding yourself captivated by him.

"Don't tell Obi-Wan," you mumbled.

Anakin finally connected his eyes with your own, "Why would I tell him?"

"So you can get help for me. I don't... I don't want him to worry about me."

The dirty blonde breathed smoothly, contrasting your own quick, quivering breaths. His mind seemed to wander, latching onto a few thoughts before responding, "What if you need it? I don't like seeing you this way, I hate watching you cry."

"Just..." you reasoned without thought, "Ani, will you stay with me?"

Anakin let his lips crack into a pacific smile, rubbing over your soft cheek with his lightsaber-roughed thumb.

"I'll stay with you," your name slipped from his mouth with ease, allowing your mind to relax and fall in the solace his presence gave you.

I'll stay with you.

•--•

#star wars x reader #star wars angst #star wars fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin x reader #anakin fluff #anakin angst #paula writes

[dollyhao]

ameliorate; to make better

pairing: dina x reader

summary: dina is overwhelmed by all the things that happened in seattle…. and ellie, and being a single mother doesn’t make it any easier. when a sweet woman comes to make her life easier...better.

toni's note: there's nothing to warn about besides a bit angst, it doesn't really get angsty till the next part. im hoping i can make this into 3 parts. thank you for 800 followers by the way!

word count: 1k

you hear the sound of a wailing baby as you make your way back home, you follow the sound. you cant be too sure about these kinda things, what if something bad happened. you stumble upon dina rocking baby jj in a rocking chair on her porch, shushing him trying to console him. dina looks tired and overwhelmed, dark circles under her eyes and unbrushed hair.

you approach her gently not wanting to startle her, “hey, can i try?” you give her a gentle smile pointing at jj. dina tucks a piece of hair behind her ear nodding, “y-yea sure. you can try, hes been crying a lot lately.” you reach for jj bouncing and rocking in a comforting rhythm, chanting soft shushes. jj quiets down letting out a calm gurgle. you look back up at dina seeing her rub her hands down her face in an exhausted manner.

she chuckles, “i cant even get my son to be quiet let alone sleep, ellie was really good at that..” she puts her elbows on her knees putting her face in her hands. you stay quiet letting her have her moment, still rocking jj as he starts to doze off. dina seems to regroup, looking back up at you curiously, “would you like to come in? its getting cold out here.” dina offers standing up. “yea, thanks.”

dina walks into the house and you follow, “no. thank you. i appreciate what you did. “ “where’s his bed?” you ask now that jj is fast asleep. “he sleeps with me, the room is down the hall.” you go to the room, laying jj down, making sure hes comfortable before leaving the room. dina is in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, “would you like some?” she glances at you over her shoulder. “yes please.” you stand awkwardly, hands in your back pockets swaying a little. she nods over to the living room with 2 cups in her hands. you follow taking a seat on the couch as she hands you a cup.

you thank her, taking a sip. “are you new to jackson? i dont remember ever seeing you before.” you chuckle, “no im not new, ive been here for years now.” you give a shy smile. “oh im sorry, i cant believe ive never noticed you.” “its fine. i preferred to stay to myself anyway. i work at the school. im a teacher,” you sit your cup down looking at her, “i always wanted to approach you, i thought you were beautiful. but you were dating jesse and then after you and jesse broke up, you and ellie made a nice little scene at the party.” you chuckle watching her face flush slightly. “also, im sorry about jesse…. and ellie.” she nods, quiet for a minute before replying. “thank you, for the jesse and ellie thing… and for calling me beautiful.” you smile at her.

you look outside seeing how dark it was getting, “i should get going.” you say standing up. dina stands up too, “thank you again. he probably would’ve cried through the night.” “of course, just let me know if you need my help again. ill be happy to help.” you walk backwards as you talk smiling at her until you run into a wall. “ah, shit..” you say rubbing the back of your head. dina laughs and follows you to the door as you turn around and walk correctly. “ill be sure to ask for your help again.” she says giving you a soft, genuine smile.

a week later, you walk into the dining hall as maria is walking out, “hey maria, is there anything you needed from me?” you wanted to make sure there wasn’t something you were suppose to be doing that you forgot about. “no. nothing that i can remember. im about to take this to dina, i wanna make sure shes staying fed.” “ill take it to her!” you say a little too eagerly for your taste. for the last week, you’ve been trying to find any excuse to visit dina and jj when you weren’t busy. dina doesn’t seem to ever object to the company. she appreciates you coming around and talking to her and playing with the baby. so when this opportunity pops up, of course your gonna take it. “let me grab myself a plate and ill take hers to her.” you say taking the plate out her hands. “well ok. thank you.” you smile before walking away.

you get to dina’s door knocking with the two plates in your hands. dina opens the door looking a little breathless, “oh, hey.” she gives you one of her soft smiles shes been giving you quite a lot. “hey, i brought you food. not sure if you ate or not.” “right.. food. i definitely forgot to eat. “ she says rubbing a hand through her hair. she gives another small smile, but this one doesn’t reach her eyes. “thats ok. i have food for you, lets not dwell to much on a honest mistake. k?” she nods. you hear a baby cry in the background, “i see you have two plates. wanna come in and eat? i was just feeding jj.” “id love to” you respond walking in.

you guys walk to the dining table where you find jj in a high chair. “hey baby boy!” you say tickling his belly, he lets out a squeal/giggle. you and dina sit on either sides of him after a minute, you see dina subtly go to smell herself. she lets out a wince, “um do you mind feeding him while i go take a shower.” you nod, “of course.” you say as you slide his food bowl over to yourself. you give dina a reassuring smile letting her know its ok.

when dina gets out the shower and is dressed, she walks in the living room while brushing her hair seeing you and jj on the carpet in her living room playing. she smiles, it felt good being able to enjoy a shower without rushing out to jj. she trusts you with jj almost the way she trusted ellie with him. yall look her way, both you and jj smiling at her. she comes and joins, both of you enjoying the sweet giggles of the cute baby.

(part 1)

#wlw #lesbian #the last of us #dina tlou #dina woodward #dina x reader #tlou2 #dina tlou2 #dina woodward fanfic

[radiance1]

I've been thinking about it for a good bit and, well. I've realized that because of my status as the originater of said idea I, in fact, can make an alternative route to said idea.

Alright, so we know that Danny can turn into an eastern dragon, and that prince Aragon, who can turn into a western dragon, wants to marry him because of that and also political power and status.

So, what if Danny lost that battle? The battle that nailed it in the coffin that he had to run away from the life he was currently living because Aragon somehow managed to get on a level of strength where he could beat Danny and marry him?

Danny quite literally had to be dragged kicking and screaming when the day he had to marry Aragon came. He didn't care who it was, he clawed, bite, hit and wailed at every ghost who came to escort him, so much so that the Observants called Aragon to put him back into submission.

Sure, before this Danny didn't have a great opinion of them, nor a terrible one. But after this, whatever opinion he had of them took a nosedive through the earth so hard it appeared in the depths of outerspace.

Not physically but still, you get the point.

Prince Aragon basically acted like he was the Ghost Prince and Danny was his consort. Even though it was the other way around. He used his newfound political power to take back over the kingdom his sister stole from him.

(They did have to form new crowns, though. Since the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage wasn't even royal property but stuff Priah Dark just, well, had and nobody wants to wake him up again either.)

Aragon was a cruel, arrogant and ill-tempered man, he wasn't great to his sister and he wasn't great to Danny either. If Danny disagreed with him, he would just force him to agree though physical might.

Danny could not care less about that man, and if he could he would kill him. But since you can't kill ghosts he just had to deal with it. Aragon refused to let him leave the zone, a decision that Danny didn't agree with and with all the things Danny didn't agree with when it came to Aragon, it came to a fight.

Which Aragon wins.

(Danny hated that man with a passion, he put a goddamn collar on him. One that prevented him from speaking, prevented him from wailing.)

So Danny had to stay in the Ghost Zone, in Aragon's Kingdom. Unable to see his family and friends, unable to go to school, unable to live a normal life.

The only ally he felt he had was Dorathea, who was basically stuck in the same position he was. They grew a great deal closer, stuck under Aragon, since they were family now at least it was with someone Danny could say with certainty he liked.

His family and friends tried to get him out of this, they failed, Aragon was much too powerful for them to fight, even if he was with them, he lacked the one thing that proved a massive threat to Aragon. He didn't want them to die, so he quite literally pleaded and begged for Aragon to spare them.

Aragon did.

He liked seeing one of the catalysts that put into motion his fall from grace begging beneath him. Pleading with him to spare mere humans, it was all the sweeter and amusing to watch him do so when not a sound could leave his lips.

Danny just holed himself up in his room, it was a lavish room, really. With a giant bed, fluffy pillows and sheets, and decorations made of probably expensive stuff. Danny couldn't really find it in himself to actually care about whatever was in his room, he just slept, ate occasionally, limited the only person to enter his room being Dorathea (Not that Aragon cared, if he wanted something he would just force his way in, really.), and unwillingly attend whatever ball or party Aragon would throw, be sad about how Dorathea was sent prevented from seeing him.

That was how it would be for no doubt eternity. The husband of a certified asshole who didn't care for him and saw him as an accessory at best.

He cursed the Observants, who condemned him to this fate.

Until one day, like any other, were Danny laid around. He got summoned, how? He didn't know. No one was even supposed to know he existed since he never did anything to put himself out there or any options to summon him.

He was in human form when he appeared on the other side. He wasn't in the ghost zone anymore, he knew, yet it still seemed like a fantasy. He didn't who summoned, why or how they managed to do so, he was just happy.

Another group busted through the doors and into the room, fighting against the people who summoned him. It was a quick fit, the summoners folding easily under the assault of the other group.

Want to know what the funniest thing was?

The people who summoned him, did so on accident trying to summon Pariah dark.

It was, so funny to him that he just. Broke down laughing. Sure, it sounded more like pained wheezing perhaps, but he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation he found himself in, he laughed and held onto his stomach, curled into a ball, even.

Because hey, some guy who smokes in a brown coat just told him that he was summoned on accident!

And then promptly started crying.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #ghost prince danny #prince aragon #An alternative to my other idea #I've just been thinking about what if Danny couldn't run or lost against Aragon and this was the result #So #Uh #yea! #Danny will stay in the DC universe #Forcefully if he has to even #Honestly though #You could have Danny being a minor and getting adopted by one of the heroes #Or adult Danny maybe falling in love and having a healthy relationship #Or none of the above even! #It's up to you #:3

[luveline]

Hi Jade!! Can I request a hurt/comfort with Remus where you get really severely hurt or are in the hospital and he’s very worried about you and takes care of you?? Thank you!

Hi! Thank you so much for your request, I think this is my favourite thing I’ve written in so long and I missed Remus very much. I hope this is okay <3 fem!reader, tw hospital and implied painful injury/illness (not specified)

Remus is there when you wake up. He always is. 

He's got one hand over yours, rubbing your dry skin gently, steadily, a ceaseless back and forth. The other is in his lap holding open a small paperback. You watch him as you gather your bearings, minutes of bleary blinking and an aching throat. He doesn't once turn the page. 

"Good morning," you say, barely audible. 

He lets out a relieved breath, book dropped as he turns in the chair toward you. The hospital bed is much higher than his seat, so he has to stand up when he kisses you.  

"Good morning," he says, lips pressed to your cheek. He kisses you twice in succession. "Oh, I'm so happy you're up. How's your pain, lovey?" 

Maybe you haven't woken up properly yet, or maybe they've given you something in your drip, but the pain is much better than it had been last night, when you'd cried enough to wake with sore eyes. You think of how he'd advocated for you, gently and then less so, until they'd taken you seriously and given you some strong painkillers. You feel a thousand times safer with him beside you, knowing he's always gonna stick up for you. 

"I'm fine." 

He strokes your cheek. "Yeah?" he asks. "Shall we sit the bed up?" 

Remus grabs the controller from the side of the hospital bed and clicks the right button on his first try. The bed starts to rise, until your back is nearly straight and your abdomen aches. You don't mention it. 

"That better?" 

You nod, wordless. Not uncommon with your being in hospital, you've found yourself overwhelmed more often than not by everything that's happening. Remus has been your glue, undoubtedly. Praising you, loving on you, taking amazing care of you. Of course, your doctor and nurses have been invaluable, but you really couldn't make it through this without him.  

You try to tell him and the words get stuck. He's not waiting for anything, he's fussing, tucking your blankets neatly under each thigh, all the way down to your ankles. 

"It's a bit cold, isn't it? Do you want your jumper, darling?" 

Remus doesn't usually call you darling. Dove is and always will be his go to, but he's called you just about anything sweet since your admittance. 

"I'm okay." You rub your hurting eyes. You feel oddly like crying, though this is as well as you've felt for days. "Remus-" 

You don't mean to stop talking, but you know if you keep trying you'll burst into tears, ugly and dramatic sobs that won't do you any good. 

He thinks the same thing, sitting carefully on the side of your bed, his hands falling to your waist. 

"Don't cry," he says. There’s a well-meaning sternness in his gaze. "Tell me what it is and I'll fix it, promise." 

That's why you want to cry. You bite your tongue until it hurts and the heat of your tears has faded. 

"Can you wipe my face for me?" you ask. 

"Yes, I can." 

He grabs your wash bag from the small cubby hole under the nightstand and pulls out a flannel, wetting it in the sink in the corner of the room. Only when he does do you remember that you're on a ward. It's loud, four beds to a room, two with the privacy curtains pulled around them and one without. The bed across from you is empty. 

Remus returns and tilts your head back. 

"The lady with the hernia," he whispers, dabbing your face with the flannel tenderly, "when I got here, she was screaming bloody murder. You woke up for a couple of seconds, do you remember?" 

You aren't sure. Vaguely, you might recall his hand stroking your hair from your face, his voice whispering, "It's okay, dove, it's alright." 

"She fucking wailed," he finishes. 

You giggle at his language and his gossiping tone, eyes slipping closed as he wipes the oil from your nose. 

"Poor woman, she doesn't have a lovely guy like you taking care of her," you say, tangling your fingers in the hem of his t-shirt. 

"She has a hernia, my love." 

"They can be really painful," you say, lightly chiding.

He turns the flannel inside out, rubbing around your hairline with the fresh side. "I'll never let anyone complain to me ever again, after you." He pulls the flannel away, his chin dipping toward his neck. "You look brand new." 

He looks tired. He has shadows under his eyes, stubble around his mouth. You've seen him unwell, in pain, in agony, and you'd never pictured what it would be like to be on the other side. You take care of him, good care of him, and you can finally understand how and why he pulls through it every time. 

"You're so good to me," you say, tears welling in your eyes. You can feel them dancing along your waterline. 

"I love you," he says simply, frowning as the first tear falls. "Dove, seriously, I love you so much, I just want you to get better, okay?" 

"Okay," you say, sniffling.

He catches your tears with the flannel. "Your poor eyes, all this crying. You're gonna need my glasses if you don't stop soon." 

"They look good on me." 

He pouts at your tearful tone. "Yeah, they do. Everything looks good on you. Except for tears," he says pointedly, leaning in until you're eye to eye. "Don't cry anymore. For me?" 

You nod fiercely, blinking away the last few strays. "Okay." 

He's ridiculously grateful. "Thank you." He kisses your damp cheek. Rests his nose against your nose. You don't fit like that and it doesn't matter. He breathes you in. "This will all be over soon. You've been so brave." 

"Remus, if you want me to stop, you can't say anything nice to me for the rest of the day." 

His laugh fans over your skin. He stands at full height. "Sorry. Love you. Your flannel's dripping down my arm." 

You push him away with as much strength as you can muster. It isn't much, but he's everything, so he pretends you've hurt his arm and murmurs grievances all the way to the sink. 

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

[mothfables]

V. Growth Spurt

After over a year of sleeping in one place and eating good food, Ravio has a growth spurt. Link shows him why this is a good thing

(inspired by @breannasfluff’s cute fic Seal Cuddles!)

“Ravi?” Link knocked on the bedroom door before opening it. He glanced into the room to find his partner standing before their full-length mirror, shirt pulled up to his chest and frowning at his reflection. Link slipped inside and shut the door, making his way over to stand behind him.

“Ravi, what’s wrong?”

The merchant startled and squeaked, dropping his shirt to stare at him through the mirror. Link met his gaze, concerned. Ravio’s arms slowly rose to curl around him, as if he was trying to hide himself from view.

“It- it’s nothing, Link, I-”

“Ravi.” Link’s voice was firm as he met Ravio’s eyes. “Obviously something’s bothering you. I’m not going to leave you to deal with whatever it is alone.”

Ravio stared at him for a beat more before sniffling. One hand came up to wipe at his eyes, and Link felt a pit begin to grow in his chest. “I-I-I think I might be sick. I don’t- this has never happened before, I-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Link soothed. He stepped forward, reaching out to wrap his arms around Ravio’s waist. The other boy did nothing to stop him, but he tensed as Link’s arms encircled him and pulled him back against his chest. “Whatever it is, we’ll-”

Link paused. Blinking in surprise, he gave his arms an experimental squeeze. Nope, not his imagination. Ravio was watching him anxiously, rupee-green eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. Slowly, Link unwound his arms until just his hands sat on his partner’s hips. Hips that were no longer sharp and bony.

He took a closer look in the mirror. Ravio’s skin was a healthy colour, not pale like it might have been if he was ill. The bags under his eyes looked lighter, making his eyes appear brighter than usual. He was still in his pajamas, and Link noted that his sleeves were no longer so loose - they actually looked like they fit now, and he could just see the tips of Ravio’s fingers peeking out of the ends. His collarbone no longer jutted out of the edge of his shirt. And, Link noted with some surprise, he stood a little bit taller than the hero now. And his stomach-

The pit in his chest disappeared, replaced by something warm.

Link released his hold on Ravio’s hips and turned the other boy to face him. He went with a startled sound. Link’s hands found his waist again and he found himself smiling at the softness there.

“W-what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Ravio was staring at him, arms still wrapped tight around his stomach. Link breathed out a laugh and nuzzled him comfortingly.

“You’re not sick, Ravi. If anything, I’d say you’re getting better.” Green eyes blinked at him in confusion.

“Are you sure? B-but I felt so awful for a few days and now my clothes all fit differently and- and I don’t know what happened!” Ravio’s voice rose to a wail. Link clucked his tongue and cooed, rubbing soft circles into his waist with his thumbs.

After a minute or so Ravio calmed, though he was still sniffling. He released his death-grip on himself to lean against his partner and bury his face into the hero’s shoulder. Link rested his head against the other boy’s, swaying the two of them slowly.

“It sounds to me like you had a growth spurt, that’s all.” He felt the merchant’s nose scrunch where it was tucked against his neck. “Ravio, remember when you told me what it was like growing up in Lorule?” A slow nod. “Well, since coming here you’ve had constant access to a good bed, plenty of food, and you’ve had no need to keep moving every day to stay safe. Your body has been able to rest and store energy without needing to focus on survival. It probably felt safe enough to use that energy and help you finish growing.”

“...Huh.”

Link hummed before perking up and he steered them over to the bed as a plan began to form in his mind. He got them both sitting down before leaning into Ravio until the merchant fell back against the pillows. As he sputtered in surprise Link scootched down until he reached his stomach. He pushed his shirt up, shooting a glance at the other to make sure it was okay, then dropped a kiss right onto his bare tummy.

Ravio squeaked. He didn’t sound uncomfortable or unhappy with the action, though, so Link kept going, pressing more kisses against soft skin with loud ‘muah!’ sounds. Ravio started giggling, squirming at the sensation of lips against sensitive skin. Link slipped his hands under his back to keep him from getting away and moved on to his hips. The skin dipped and folded where it didn’t before; where once it was stretched thin enough he could see the shape of the bone underneath, it now held a padding that acted as a cushion he found extremely comfortable. He smooched each hip with a grin.

Ravio was laughing, slapping his hands against Link’s shoulders as he wriggled. “L-link! Link, s-st-stop! Hahahaha!” The hero obliged and dropped one last kiss before pulling his shirt down.

He wasn’t done, however, and shuffled upwards so he could reach Ravio’s collar, pressing kisses to the bone there. It, too, was no longer painfully visible. Instead there was only a slight dip, made deeper as the merchant squirmed. From there, Link moved to cradle his partner’s face, only to grumble when he found the angle too awkward.

Ravio snickered as Link tried to find a position that would let him hold his face comfortably but ultimately gave up and propped himself up with his elbows on either side of the other boy’s head.

Link leaned down to give him a happy nuzzle but paused, staring closely at the merchant’s face. For his part, Ravio could only stare in befuddlement as Link’s eyes sparkled and he exclaimed:

“Rav, your cheeks are round!”

“...What?”

“Your face isn’t so thin anymore. I’m glad, it makes you look...” Link hummed, tilting his head this way and that in thought. Then he grinned. “You’re even cuter now!”

And with that he peppered the merchant’s face with kisses, only adding to the bright blush overtaking his cheeks.

A few minutes later, Link scooted back down to lay on Ravio’s chest with his head propped on his arms. Ravio had his own arms wrapped around his hero, his blush dying down to something more manageable as he caught his breath.

“Link?” A questioning sound came from the hero cozy on his chest. “I-I know you explained, b-but are you sure this-” Ravio bit his lip, uncertainty making him anxious again. “Are you absolutely sure this is okay? That it’s... normal?” His voice cracked.

“Ravi... Of course it’s okay. You went through so much, your body needed time to heal. Don’t worry about it too much. Besides,” Link reached up to tuck a lock of dark hair behind an ear. “I’ll be here to remind you whenever you need it.” He smiled, suddenly cheeky. “And give you all the kisses you need to help you remember too.”

Ravio snorted. “And here I thought I was the one who initiated most of the kisses in this relationship. But- thank you. I’m here for you too, you know.”

“I know, Ravi. I love you.”

“I love you too. And... thank you. Again.”

“Of course, Rav.”

#moth’s tales #cuddles and wishes and bunny kisses #loz a link between worlds #albw ravio #albw link #fanfiction #legend of zelda fanfiction #body posititivity #queerplatonic relationship #qpr link x ravio #gift fic #asexual relationship #kisses #raviolink

[stardewlily]

Everything To Me - Epilogue

A Stardew Valley fan fiction about the relationship between Sebastian and my farmer, Lily. Thanks to @kissingtruth for all their lovely and helpful feedback... here are those Abigail scenes you wanted!

Notes: I was very unsure if I should post this as I really didn't know if the story needed it but, ah, what the hell, sometimes a little closure is necessary...

Synopsis: In the calm after the storm Abigail's guilt is finally assuaged and Lily & Sebastian spend their first anniversary together

Cast: Original Female Character, Sebastian, Abigail, Haley, Emily

Contents: Established Relationship (Married), Friendship Dynamics, Love, Fluff, Romance

Warnings: None

"And then you heard him calling your name and woke up to find him giving you his blood!" Haley gazed at her, eyes wide, hands clasped together, cheeks flushed. "Oh, that's so romantic! I just can't stand it!" She lifted a hand to rub the tears from her eyes. "Tell me again about how he climbed into the hospital bed with you!"

Lily laughed at Haley's enthusiasm, which immediately started off a coughing fit.

"Now look what you've done, Haley!" Abigail admonished, quickly placing another pillow under Lily's head to help prop her up. "You're wearing her out asking her to tell the same story over and over again!"

"But it's so sweet!" Haley wailed as Emily joined Abigail in fussing over their convalescing friend.

"It's okay, you two," Lily said, smiling at her nurses. "I'm fine really, I think I just need a drink, that's all."

"See, you've made her talk too long!" Abigail glared at the blonde girl. "I'll go get you some iced water right now, Lily." She hurried off to the kitchen.

"She doesn't need to be so mean about it," Haley pouted, deflating rapidly in her chair.

"Try not to take offence," Emily soothed as she finished straightening Lily's covers. "You know she's been feeling guilty about this whole thing, this is just her way of trying to make amends."

Lily sighed and Emily turned to look at her again. "Are we tiring you out, hun? Do you need us to leave?"

"Oh no," Lily quickly shook her head. "It's not that, I love having you here. I just wish Abby would relax a little, both Sebby and I have told her over and over again that we don't blame her but…"

"I know," Emily said, gently shushing her. She could see the tell tale little frownline appearing between Lily's eyes, a surefire warning that her friend was starting to worry. "She'll get over it eventually, it'll just take a little more time, that's all."

She cast an eye over the vast array of flowers and gifts Abigail had brought to the farmhouse in the week that Lily had been home. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the goth girl, for sure she had made an ill-considered decision to go into the mines but it was the mistake of an unthinking youth, sure of their own invincibility, and she could only imagine the burden of guilt the poor girl must now be carrying.

"Here you go, Lily," Abigail said, quickly returning with the drink and immediately beginning to restraighten the already straight covers. "I'll just sort these out for you."

"Sorry to disturb you all…"

They all turned to see a slightly hesitant Sebastian enter the room, looking a little flushed as though he'd just been busy with something. He coughed nervously, his cheeks reddening further at being the centre of all their attention. "It's getting late and… well, it's our anniversary today and… um…"

"You're totally right, Seb," Emily saved him from trying to find more words, smiling to herself at his shyness. She had noticed it becoming more pronounced again over the last month or so and wondered what had happened to cause it. Well, maybe some time alone with his wife on their special day would help him. Goodness, so many people seemed so delicate these days, she would have to send extra healing energy out into the world tonight!

"We should be going, we've been monopolising Lily's time for far too long. It's your first anniversary and after all that's happened I think you two deserve to spend the night alone together!" She looked down at her sister. "Come on, Haley. You can get Lily to tell you that tale again some other time."

"Okay," Haley patted Lily's hand and climbed to her feet, looking Seb up and down as she did so. "What have you been up to anyway? We heard a whole load of bumping and thumping from outside earlier on."

"Nothing much," he shifted his feet nervously. "Just some stuff on the farm…"

"Now stop bothering the boy, Haley," Emily took her by the arm. "Unlike you, he has work to do!"

"That's not fair, Em!" Haley pouted once more. "I help out around the house!"

"Only when I threaten to throw out all your fashion magazines if you don't!" Emily laughed good-naturedly. "See you later, Lily. Have a wonderful night with your hubby and try not to worry about anything, okay?"

"I'll try," Lily lifted a hand to wave goodbye. "Thanks for coming, both of you."

"Any time, hun!" The door closed behind the sisters leaving just Abigail behind.

"Well, I suppose I should get going too." She looked a little forlorn, grabbed Lily's hand and forced a smile onto her face. "I'll come visit again tomorrow, okay? Don't overdo things, will you? Remember what the doctor said?"

"I will," Lily laughed. "I have both you and Sebby constantly reminding me!"

"Come on, Abby," Seb was still fidgeting. "I'll walk you out."

"Okay."

The two walked through the kitchen and out the front door in silence. Once outside Abigail came to a halt and stared at the new installation on the porch.

"Is this what all the noise was about?"

"Yep."

"Is it Lily's anniversary present?"

"It is." Seb folded his arms and switched feet again. Not for the first time did he wish he were better at articulating his feelings with anyone other than Lily. He was sure he needed to say something right now but for the life of him he didn't know what it was.

Abigail didn't move for such a long time he felt his anxiety ratchet up another notch, then she started shaking so much he thought she was about to fall over.

"Seb!" she turned an agonised face his way. "I'm so sorry! I almost took all this away from you! Because of me you almost lost Lily! I… I was so horrible to her right from the start and then… then I did this… I…" she buried her face in her hands and he gaped at her, utterly at a loss for what to say.

He looked down at the ground, trying to rein in his own shaking. He'd gone through a lot of soul searching lately. Lily had been in hospital for a full week after her surgery and in that time he'd gone through a whole kaleidoscope of emotions, was ashamed to admit that he had raged at and blamed Abigail in the midst of that whirlwind. The only thing that had kept him even remotely stable through all of it had been Lily, the knowledge that she was still there, still alive, still his…

Still his…

"Abby, it's okay."

She looked up at his words, seeming surprised by the calm strength in his voice.

He felt surprised himself on hearing it.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, it wasn't your fault, it was just something that happened."

Her eyes glistened with tears and hope in equal measure. All of a sudden he knew it was true. She was an idiot. She had done a stupid thing. But he couldn't find it in himself to keep being angry at her. And… this surprised him even more… couldn't be angry at his father either. Not any longer. Not when his sweet wife was waiting safe and sound inside for him.

He stepped forward and caught his friend by the shoulders.

"Go home Abby, go home, rest, relax, go back to uni. You don't need to take time off anymore to look after me or Lily. We're okay."

"Seb… really? We… we're okay?"

He nodded. "We're okay. You, me and Lily. We're okay and we always will be."

She let out a long breath, looked down, gave a determined sniff, scrubbed at her eyes and then turned abruptly on her heel.

"Right, well, I'll be going then! I need to take the morning train to ZuZu tomorrow, gotta catch up on all those lectures I've missed!" She lifted a hand in farewell as she walked away. "Have a wonderful night with your wife, Seb. You two deserve it!"

Sebastian watched her go. She didn't look back but he could tell from the way she carried herself that a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He sighed and turned back to the farmhouse. Suddenly he felt tired and just wanted one thing. His wife. To see the look on her face when he showed her the present he had made for her.

He opened the kitchen door and stepped back inside.

He walked into their bedroom to find Lily giggling softly as both their cats took turns in vying for her attention. For a moment he just stood there, soaking in the gentle domestic bliss of his wife stroking their pets, laughing as Nyx's tail waved in her face and Tyx, immediately envious, rolled over and offered a soft belly for rubs.

He smiled and felt his heart expand. Yoba, he loved her. Would never get enough of this. Of her. Of their life together.

"Sebby," she noticed his quiet presence and looked up, her smile causing his heart to swell even more. "I know it sounds bad, I love them all so much, I really do, but it's so nice now that they're gone and it's finally just you and me!"

"I know, baby," he sat on the bed next to her, joining her in dealing with their attention-seeking kitties. "We've had so many visitors since you came home I feel like I've barely had any time alone with you."

"Well, we have all night now," Lily let out a small sigh and collapsed back on her pillows. "Although I feel so tired I'm afraid I'm not going to be much use to you!"

"That doesn't matter," he said and stroked her cheek fondly. "Even if all we do is just cuddle all night and watch movies that's enough for me."

"That sounds nice," she smiled up at him. "I love when we just lie together like that."

"So do I," he bent his head and kissed her. "But hey, before we pick something to watch, do you want to see your present?"

"Oh Sebby, you didn't have to get me anything!"

He laughed. "But you knew I would!" He stood up and reached carefully underneath her, lifting her from the bed, blanket and all.

"Sebby, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to see your present," he grinned, wrapping the blanket more securely around her much to her amusement. "It's cold outside and I don't want you to catch a chill."

"I feel like a human burrito," she giggled again as he carried her towards the front door. "And what on earth is my present doing outside anyway?"

"You'll see," his grin grew wider, the sound of her laughter taking away all his earlier tiredness. "Close your eyes," he said as he pushed open the door.

"Wha…?"

"Trust me…" he said softly.

"Okay…"

He carried her outside, set her down gently on her present and stepped back to watch her reaction.

"You can open your eyes now."

"Sebby? What…? Oh!"

She shifted position, looked from left to right then lifted her head and stared up at him with wide eyes. "Oh Seb! This is my Gran's rocking chair, the one we found all broken and abandoned in the cellar…" she ran her hands over the smooth wood of the arms. "I have so many happy memories of sitting in this with her when I was a little girl. You… you fixed it up!"

"I did," he couldn't stop the smile that was taking over his face at her delight. "Well, me and my mom did. Why don't you have a closer look at the headrest?"

She twisted in her seat, trailed her fingers over the carving he had worked so hard on. The carving of their names twined around a single rose.

"Oh Seb…" her voice trembled. "Did you do this?"

"I did, it took me ages, I messed up three times and my mom had to chip out the wood and inlay that section fresh, but I didn't stop till I got it just right!"

"Seb," she turned to look up at him, face full of wonder, so beautiful, so perfect in the rich evening light that for a moment he still couldn't believe she was actually his. "This is amazing… I don't know what to say, this means so much to me!"

Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, his throat filled, he felt himself moving towards her, drawn by a love so intense it couldn't be denied.

"Because of all this," she sobbed and gestured helplessly at her still bandaged form. "I don't have anything to give you."

"Oh Lily, yes you do," he dropped to his knees before her, cupped her cheek in his hand, stroked away her tears with his thumb. "Stay with me. Forever."

"Oh Seb," she touched his face for a single moment, so sweet he felt his soul ache, then threw her arms around him. "Of course I will!"

He let his tears fall at her touch.

She was his.

He would never be alone again.

He sighed, pulled her close and let the warmth fill him.

Let the memory of that cold empty door closing behind his father finally disappear for good.

~The End~

Cute little page dividers by @chachachannah / Boring old plain green ones by me!

#stardew valley sebastian #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew valley #sebastian sdv #sebastian stardew #stardew valley sebastian fanfic #sdv sebastian fanfic #stardew sebastian fanfic #stardew valley sebastian fanfiction #sdv sebastian fanfiction #stardew sebastian fanfiction #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction #sdv fanfiction #stardew fanfiction #stardew valley sebastian x original female character #sdv sebastian x original female character #seb x lily

[stargazer-sims]

Fox + Delusion + Shame + Moon

Here's another one @dandylion240. This one is connected to a previous one, which was suggested by @cawthorntales

__________

Fox steps onto the balcony and gazes up at the moon. The air is warm for an October night, but still cool enough to make him glad that he thought to pull on a hoodie before coming outside.

The balcony is one of his favourite features of the house. A set of French doors leads directly onto it from his and Takahiro's bedroom, making it easy for them to slip out after all the kids are in bed. Fox likes to think of it as their private sanctuary. They've spent many evenings out here together, sometimes discussing weighty things, sometimes chatting about something inconsequential, and sometimes just sitting in companionable silence and gazing at the lazily-flowing creek under the pale silvery glow of moonlight.

Fox is acutely aware of his husband's absence tonight. Takahiro's chair is conspicuously empty, the blanket he'd brought out here a few days ago folded neatly on the seat. Fox reminds himself he’ll have to bring the blanket inside when he’s ready to go to bed. It’s Taka’s favourite. He wouldn’t want it to be ruined in the event of rain.

Fox wishes Takahiro were here. He's not sure if they'd talk, even though there's a lot he could say. Mostly, he wants the comfort Taka's presence would give him.

Takahiro is at the hospital, staying with their older set of twins, Camellia and Forest. Fox had been there with them all day while Taka took care of their other kids, and after dinner they'd switched roles. Forest in particular hadn't wanted Fox to leave, and walking out of their hospital room had been hard, but he was more sad than worried. He knew they'd be okay for the night, even if they missed him.

The person Fox is most worried about is actually Takahiro. He's already struggling to grasp the reality that Forest and Camellia both have type 1 diabetes, and they haven't even been released from the hospital yet. The diagnosis is only the beginning of their journey, and he doesn't know how Taka is going to cope with what comes next.

As for Fox himself, he can't say he's really surprised at the diagnosis. As much as he wishes none of this were real, in the back of his mind, he'd half expected it to happen to at least one of his kids sooner or later. He's taking it way more calmly than he ever imagined he would, and perhaps that concerns him more than the fact of his children's illness.

Shouldn't I be scared? he asks himself. Shouldn't I be more anxious about all the changes we'll need to make? About regular medical checkups and blood glucose tests and giving my kids shots two or three times a day?

He has scattered recollections of the early days of his own diagnosis. He'd been six years old when he and his family found out about his diabetes, not much older than Forest and Camellia are now. They'll turn six in January.

Fox's most vivid early memory of the experience of his illness is of being in the hospital and learning how injections worked, and of his father crying while sticking a needle into his thigh. He remembers Dad's face getting so red that he could barely see his freckles any more, and how tight the muscles in his jaw and neck looked. Dad had managed to give Fox the shot, but he ran out of the room immediately afterwards, and hadn't quite gotten into the hallway before totally breaking down.

Fox hadn't understood the sound of an adult sobbing, and it'd scared him. He'd wailed in fear and screamed for his father to come back, and nothing the nurse did or said could calm him. He didn't stop crying until his father returned. Dad might've been gone for two minutes, but to Fox's terrified six-year-old brain, it'd seemed like an eternity.

When Dad came back, he and Fox clung to each other for a long time. Fox kept saying he was sorry, although he didn't quite know why he felt he had to say it. All he knew is that Dad had cried because of him, and he felt really bad about it and wanted to fix things somehow.

Now that he's a parent himself, Fox understands what really happened that day. He knows it wasn't his fault and that he personally hadn't made his father cry. He comprehends why giving him a shot was so upsetting for Dad, but he also has the perspective of understanding what Dad's reaction had done to him.

For the longest time, the shame of that moment did not go away. Fox's young mind hadn't been able to process the situation nor the emotions that went along with it, and for years after that, he would feel guilty and scared every time Dad was even the slightest bit upset. As a consequence, he'd tried his hardest to do everything Dad wanted him to, afraid to disobey or to do anything at all that might cause a metaphorical ripple in the otherwise calm water of their lives.

The shame wasn't limited to his relationship with his father, either. As a young child, he developed the idea that his diabetes itself was something to be ashamed of. He'd reached the conclusion that it was a source of discomfort and distress for others, and that if he revealed to anyone that he carried this terrible disease, he'd be responsible for whatever negative feelings they might have about it. Then, they wouldn't want to be his friends or even be around him.

It makes him sad that he'd laboured under that delusion for so many years, and even more so to realize that his parents never once tried to address it. He used to be angry about that, but since having kids of his own, he’s learned to let his anger go because he sees how deeply the things that affect him also affect them.

He thinks it's possible that his parents hadn’t helped him work through his emotional and psychological challenges because they’d let themselves fall into a delusion of their own; one in which they convinced themselves their family’s problems would not exist if they ignored them. And the companion to that misguided belief seemed to have been the equally damaging notion that if they shielded Fox from absolutely everything, he'd never be hurt by anything again.

But, they'd been wrong, and he thinks they probably still don't know how catastrophically wrong they'd been.

Fox resolves that he won't repeat his parents' mistake. He wants to be honest with his children and open with his husband. Yes, the next few weeks and months are going to be difficult, and he doesn't doubt that both he and Taka will cry, possibly even in front of their kids, but Fox is determined that he won't allow the truth of any of their experiences to to be hidden.

He wants his kids to know that there's nothing shameful about their illness, and that it won't stop them from doing whatever they want to do with their lives. They can still play and have fun, go to school, make friends, have careers and fall in love. The whole world is open to them, and he needs them to know that as much as he loves them and wants to keep them safe, he'll never try to hold them back.

If a day comes when he can't keep his tears at bay, he'll make sure his children understand it's in no way their fault. He'll tell them he loves them, and that it's okay for anyone — kids or grownups — to cry if something makes them feel scared or sad. He’ll tell them they shouldn’t be worried about saying how they feel, nor to be ashamed about asking for help.

And he'll let Takahiro know that anything he's feeling is valid too. He wants Taka to be comfortable sharing whatever he needs to, so they can find solutions together. It may not always be easy for Taka to share, but the offer will always be there. Fox's heart and mind and arms will always be open to comfort and reassure him.

We can do this, he tells himself. We’ve survived all of our worst days so far, and we’re strong enough to get through this too.

#writing #fox abbottsford #stargazersims

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

5SOS Protective Over Luke Masterlist

baby i'm gonna drink you in like oxygen (ao3) - booksteaandcake luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: bad boy ashton has taken young luke hemmings under his wing. it's kind of a surprise when they sleep together… but also not a surprise at all.

'“I’m not wrecking you.” Ashton scoffed, “I’m going to take care of you.”'

Before It's All Too Much. (ao3) - alxclightwood michael/luke, calum/ashton G, 3k

Summary: "Luke, what's wrong?" he heard, getting quieter as the room began to spin and darkness clouded his vision, his body finally allowing him to succumb to the relief of unconsciousness.

AKA Luke likes to be dramatic when he's ill.

“You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Can't Keep This Beating Heart at Bay (ao3) - ShortIsNotFun luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Ashton's heart broke a little hearing the younger's voice absolutely wrecked from all his tears. "I'll come over, yeah? We can cuddle and eat lots of ice cream and talk. Does that sound good, sweetheart?"

or

Luke gets dumped and Ashton is always there to pick up the pieces of his broken heart

floating then drowning (ao3) - lovelymuke michael/luke T, 9k

Summary: As Luke stands over the bathroom sink and swallows one of the pills, he knows that this is it. There's no turning back after this. As long as he can make the bottles of pills he has stashed in the bottom of his suitcase last until the end of the promo run he’ll be fine. So he doesn’t worry. Instead, he just knocks back the second pill and walks out of the bathroom to his waiting boyfriend. He’s going to prove that he’s still worthy of being in the band, that he can hold himself together.

If he needs medication to do that, no one needs to know.

If Walls Could Talk (ao3) - boomerluke luke/ashton, ashton/ofc M, 43k

Summary: The last thing Ashton ever wanted to do was hurt Luke, but he couldn't help it. The singer was just so beautiful, so ethereal and otherworldly that it took his breath away most of the time. Everyone felt that way about their best friend though, right? It was normal. No use getting unnecessary feelings involved, it was better this way. Luke understood.

Luke wasn't sure when this thing between him and Ashton started, or how it started, but it didn't matter. He was in too deep to go back now. So Luke would let Ashton use him, hurt his feelings and crawl back with apologies. Because at the end of the day, even when Luke had to watch Ashton leave the bar with a new pretty blonde each night, he knew the drummer would eventually end up back in his bed. And Luke told himself he was okay with that.

I'm Begging You to Be My Safety (ao3) - kayehmwhy luke/ashton G, 1k

Summary: “I don’t really tell anyone unless I have to,” the younger said staring at the floor. “It’s not something i’m proud of.”

Or // Luke's emetophobic, Calum's airsick, Ashton's trying to help and Michael's asleep.

I'm Just Feeling Kinda Broken (ao3) - mlstyles257 ot4 N/R, 9k

Summary: “Is he okay?” Michael asks as he and Calum rush to where Ashton is cradling Luke on their dressing room sofa. Luke is definitely distraught, he’s hiding his face in Ashton’s tee, wailing and hiccuping on sobs. “I don’t know.” Ashton is trying to keep his voice calm, hushing and rocking Luke as the boy cries. “I didn’t even see him fall.” He presses a string of gentle kisses to Luke’s forehead, whispering reassurances as he goes. ... “Guys I don’t know what to do, he’s obviously in pain but I don’t think we can keep him up long enough to get checked out.”

aka Luke gets hurt during one of their shows and struggles with his little headspace.

makeup isn't just for girls - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) ot4 T, 3k

Summary: During Quarantine, Luke takes up nail painting as a hobby. Eventually, he adds makeup too. When he's with the boys again for tour, he comes clean about his new hobbies. Unfortunately, not all of his boyfriends are supportive.

Protector (ao3) - starstruk97 luke/ashton M, 4k

Summary: There are certain rules that come with being the eldest of your group of friends, the number one rule being: Always protect your younger friends.

" From then on, Luke joined the group, and I had someone to protect and look after. Someone to teach and guide. A baby ‘brother’. And it was my favourite thing in the world. Still is. I don’t care how many fist fights, detentions, suspensions and groundings I have received for standing up for him, I don’t and never will regret any of them because each one of them saved my little bro some kind of pain. "

taking a stand - @sup3rbloom​ (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 1k

Summary: Luke encounters a rude alpha during a radio interview, and takes a stand for himself. The boys back him. The day ends with pack cuddles.

The Games We Play (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance luke/calum, michael/mali E, 30k

Summary: Michael has always warned his friends to keep away from his boyish little sister, Lucy (Luke). But what happens when Lucy secretly allowed Calum to get a little too close to her? Will something blossom between them? Was it Love or simply Lust?

the kids will be alright, eventually (ao3) - wafflelashton luke/ashton, ashton/ofc T, 45k

Summary: ashton falls in love with his best friend, luke, and is somehow the last to know.

the situation is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: Luke is closeted and nobody outside of the band, and close family, knows that he has a secret husband. During promo for Youngblood, Luke suffers a panic attack when the interviewer asks a personal question. Cue, Ashton to the rescue and comfort.

This calls for a band cuddle (ao3) - Bubballoo G, 1k

Summary: Luke doesn't feel well and crawls into Michael's bed. The solution? A band cuddle.

this is everything i didn't say - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) michael/luke, calum/ashton T, 6k

Summary: Luke's home life has never been great, with an abusive and homophobic father. Calum is the only good consistent thing in his life, with Calum being Luke's best friend. One day, Calum suggests that Luke meets some new people to hang out with. Luke is hesitant, but then he meets a red head named Michael Clifford, and everything changes.

you gave me hope, i gave you my life (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke, calum/ashton M, 15k

Summary: The boy's left side of his face badly bruised, and his lip was busted and bleeding. His feathery blonde hair was stained with red, which Michael assumed was blood.

"Don't take me back," The boy sobbed. "I tried to run. P—Please, help m—me!" And he clutched Michael'a sweater sleeve tightly. Michael could feel his fear just through one touch.

Or,

The one where Luke runs away from an abusive home and runs into Michael. For some reason, Michael can't help but feel he needs to protect the delicate boy.

You Saved Me (ao3) - CliffordAffliction luke/ashton M, 5k

Summary: After a boy from school causes harm to Luke Ashton's protective instincts kick in and all he wants to do is make sure Luke feels safe and loved

You see a lot up there but don't be scared, who needs action when you got words (ao3) - charlieclifford michael/luke N/R, 1k

Summary: Luke's new to the school and people aren't too kind towards him. Luckily, Michael's there to fight his battles for him when he's too afraid to do it himself.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #masterlists #luke hemmings #protectiveness #protective!ashton #protective!calum #protective!michael

[aubins]

＊ unfettered will fare the fenris wolf .

fetters of dromi awakening drabble. ‘  awakened on 08 . 04 . 23  ’     .     837 words

　          “This is a story about regret.”

When you are four, a man collapses on your doorstep.

At first, you think he is dead— and it would not be the first time. When the plague first swept through Faerghus, snatching babes from their mothers and fathers from their sons, death had become an old friend. Each life lost was immortalized in letters that your mother received from places that were not home, in funerals held for strangers that you would cross paths with on the street, in the old houses that started to empty out, until there were more ghosts than people haunting the town.

“Hey, mister,” you say, nudging him with a foot. “Dying here is rude. Mama says it’s bad luck.” And only when the stranger rolls over, staring at you with empty, but blinking eyes do you jump, crashing backward against the door. “Mama!” you wail, voice raising as you fumble for the doorknob. “Mama! There’s a dead guy!”

Later, when the old man is asleep in mama’s bed in the next room and you both share the worn out sofa, she chides you for calling him dead. That it’s important to be kind and rude to speak ill of others.

(Mama is a liar, though. Sometimes, you see her scowl at a letter that you can’t read when she thinks you don’t see, hear her curse a lousy bastard under her breath when she thinks you don’t hear.)

You don’t say anything about how he might die anyway, despite her best efforts. It’s not the plague— he really would be dead if it was, and you and mama would follow soon after— but it’s not anything that mama knows how to help with either. She’s not a healer, not like the mages that sometimes pass through the town for the night, but she’s lived alone enough to know how to tend to a fever.

By the time the season turns to spring, the old man is well enough to walk again. Mama asks for no payment, but when he catches you staring at him writing his thin, slanted letters into a leather notebook, he asks if you’d like to learn how to write. You think about the letters mama hides away in a locked drawer and ask him if he can teach you how to read too.

It’s a selfish ask from a child he barely knows, but he just seats you in his lap and puts his notebook in your hands.

　          “Huh? Why regret?”

Sometimes, when you’re practicing your letters, the elder will tell you stories. One of his hands will wrap around your waist to keep you from falling from his lap, the other settled over the hand you’re not using to write. When you are older, most of them will be reduced to hazy memories, as most of your time with him shall be, but you will remember the important stories. The important memories.

You do not have a father. You wonder if it would feel like this if you did.

…Probably not, but you know he’s family. That’s nice, you think.

　          “Well, Regulus…the heroes of this story couldn’t save anyone.”

In winter, you almost die.

　          “Can't they try again? Save someone else?”

If it hadn’t been for him, you would have.

　          “Maybe. Their failure blinded them for a long time.”

In spring, the elder dies.

You think that somehow, he knows it’s coming. The night before you find his unmoving body, he doesn’t tell you your usual bedtime story. When you go to say goodnight, he calls your name, “Regulus,” murmured gently as he beckons you closer. “Promise that you’ll grow up well, hm?”

Maybe you should have promised. If you knew, you would have. Instead, your face crumples into a faint frown, your arms crossing. “You sound like mama.”

He laughs. “Your mother is very smart. It’s an honorable comparison.”

“He was kind of weird,” you tell mama when you bury him, “but I liked him.”

Mama smiles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and doesn’t even scold you for calling him weird. “I know, my star. I liked him too.”

　          “Do you think they would try again? If they had the chance?”

When you hear whispers of a Heroes’ Relic for a rare Crest that has come into the church’s possession, you are are struck with the inexplicable urge to have it. Fool’s errand it may be for anyone else to try and steal from the church, but if you believe in anything at all, then you believe in yourself.

You’ll have the relic. It’s only a matter of when.

　          He watches you for a long while before he answers.

Your heist is not perfect, but the relic is yours, in the end.

Fitted over the back of your hand, the Fetters of Dromi glow, warming like the ghost of a hand that once settled over your own.

Strangely, it fits you perfectly.

　          “...Perhaps, child. But I think they might pray they never have to.”

#❛ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒. anything lost to you is what needs to be #“isn't this supposed to be about yuri's journey with the fetters of dromi” #uhhh looks at heroes relic lore and looks away #i don't know how i feel about this honestly but i've rewritten it too many times so i'm just sending it

[frozenprocedural]

Hollow

Hungry

Hippo

Here's my part for TDOE Day 10- The Grinch!

Jenny and Alarik belong to @patricia-von-arundel. Thank you @bepoets for the idea!

The Grinch

Rating: K

This was the year. Jenny was certain of it. This would be the year she would see Santa. 

She'd waited until Mama and Papa had put Dag to bed, waited until the house was quiet, then carefully snuck down the stairs, armed with her stuffed hippo- Harold- and her blanket. 

Once in the family room, she nestled into a spot between the couch and the big comfy chair, wrapping the blanket around her and Harold. Her hiding spot was perfect- no one could see her, but she could see the fireplace just fine. She opened Papa's phone to the Santa map, double-checking. Yes, Santa was definitely on his way- she could see the sleigh heading to her neighborhood. Papa had showed her how to look for it. 

Now all she had to do was wait…

………..

Bright light brought Jenny back to consciousness. She blinked awake, turning away from the window.

Wait.

That was her bedroom window, and she was in her bed! Jenny shot upright, looking around in growing horror. This wasn't a dream- she was back in her room, not downstairs. 

Jenny threw herself back into her pillow with a muffled scream. No! Santa hadn't come! Why else would she be up here? She had to have stayed up long enough to see him come to the house at least! The Santa map had showed her that. Mama and Papa must have put her back in her room when they saw there weren't any presents. 

She was mad! She had been good all year long! Well, maybe not all year, but at least for December! She had done her very best to leave Dag alone, no matter how annoying he was, and had tried to do all her chores! 

And despite all of that, Santa still hadn't come!

Despite hearing her family call her name from downstairs, Jenny pulled her blanket over her head, tears streaming down her face, feeling hollow inside.

………..

"Jenny still hasn't come down yet?" 

Alarik shook his head. "I haven't seen her since last night."

Elsa worried about that. They'd found Jenny fast asleep with her stuffed hippo and her favorite blanket moments before they were about to place the presents under the tree. She hadn't even stirred when Alarik picked her up and tucked her into bed.

"Did she feel hot at all to you? Maybe she's coming down with something?"

Alarik's brow furrowed. "She didn't feel hot last night. And I haven't heard any coughing or sneezing. Do you want me to check on her?"

Elsa was already on her way. "I'll check. Can you keep Dag away from the presents until then?"

"I will."

When Elsa came to Jenny's room, the door was still closed. As she reached for the knob, Elsa heard sniffling sounds- Jenny must be sick. 

"Jenny, are you feeling alright?" Elsa opened the door and stepped in to find Jenny buried under her blanket, her body shaking.

"Go away!"

Elsa realized then that her daughter wasn't sick, she was crying. That worried her far more than any illness- it was rare for Jenny to cry. 

"Jenny! What's wrong!?"

A tangled mass of auburn curls popped out from under the blanket. "Santa didn't coooooooome!" Jenny wailed, pounding at her bed with a fist. 

Elsa blinked in surprise. That wasn't something she thought she'd hear. 

"Jenny, what are you talking about? Of course he did!"

"No he didn't!" Jenny pushed her hair free from her face. Her green eyes were bright with tears, and a flush colored her cheeks. "I waited all night! He didn't show up! He was on the map, and he didn't come to our hoooooouuuse!" Jenny fell face-first into her pillow, sobbing. 

Elsa fought the urge to laugh- leave it to a seven-year-old to come to such an odd conclusion! But laughing would do her no good. Instead she sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing Jenny's back.

"Jenny, that's not the case. You just fell asleep before Santa came. We found you-and the presents- last night. He was very hungry- all the cookies are gone. Come on downstairs and see."

Jenny shook her head into the pillow. "Don' wanna."

Elsa shook her head as well, but there was a smile on her face. "Well then, I suppose I'll just have to send your presents back to Santa then."

That got Jenny's attention. She shot up, almost colliding with Elsa before leaping out of bed and dashing down the hallway. 

"Wait! Wait for me!"

She dashed down the stairs, Elsa following in her wake. As soon as she reached the family room, Jenny stopped in her tracks. Her eyes went wide, taking in the considerable pile of gifts, the boot tracks on the mantle, and the empty plate and cup.

"Mama! Santa came! He really came!" 

Jenny ran over, hugging Elsa's knees. Elsa bent down and hugged her back.

"Of course he did, little one. Of course he did." 

#elsarik #tdoe 2022 #tdoe

[d-andilion]

this means war

@thepassifloradiscord's bards week - day 3: flower language

(valskier, university days, misunderstandings, angst but in a kind of humorous way, allergies, rejection, the rivalry begins, 579)

read on ao3

“It’s sabotage,” Jaskier growls, punctuated by another bone-rattling sneeze. 

He wipes the snot and spittle with an already soiled handkerchief and chucks it across the room in his frustration. Priscilla passes him another one from her seat at his desk with a look of pity and light amusement. 

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic, Julian,” she says.

“I’m not!” Jaskier wails in his now frightfully nasal voice. “Marx is trying to kill me, Pris! I told you he was out for my neck.”

Priscilla rolls her eyes but she doesn’t argue. She knows Jaskier is right deep down, he’s sure of it. He sneezes again and drops back onto his bed with a groan. It’s ridiculous, honestly, that he could be put in such a state by a handful of flowers.

Jaskier loves flowers for the most part. He prefers wildflowers, obviously, but he has an appreciation for the more popular sorts—roses, sunflowers, peonies, daffodils. Tulips, on the other hand, are his mortal enemy. For some reason, that particular bloom makes him sneezy and snotty like nothing else. He can’t breathe properly for days after an encounter with the sly devils.

The flowers behind this particular bout of illness were left at his dormitory door after classes had finished, a bouquet of bright red and yellow tulips bound together with a piece of silky ribbon. Jaskier picked them up with every intention of tossing them right in the bin, but that bit of contact was all it took. The first sneeze came within minutes and it had only worsened in the hours since.

Priscilla, despite her doubts, had been the one to uncover his saboteur. She’d seen Valdo Marx in the garden earlier that day picking the very flowers used to bring about Jaskier’s demise. And it could be no coincidence that their student showcase is to take place in two days’ time. There was nothing else for it. Marx meant to ruin him and take the first place prize for himself.

“I’ll get him back,” Jaskier swears, rubbing miserably at his itchy, reddened eyes. “Mark my words, Pris. This means war.”

~

Valdo finds the remnants of the tulips at his door the next morning. There isn’t much left, really. A few mutilated stems and a mound of squished petals. The ribbon is chopped up into bits and sprinkled atop the pitiful pile.

He scoops it up off the floor, trying very hard not to cry. He spent a whole day in the library pouring over volumes on the language of flowers. Tulips for passion, red for love, yellow for sunshine and happiness… 

Valdo thought they would be perfect. Perhaps he should have picked a different color? Or left a note? If anyone could understand the meanings of flowers, surely it would be someone who named themselves after a buttercup.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Jaskier understood the message. He clearly isn’t interested. Valdo hadn’t realized his affections were so viscerally distasteful. Better to know than not, he supposes. Valdo dumps the clippings into the bin under his desk and curls up in bed. He only just got up for the day, but he doesn’t much feel like going out anymore. 

Fine, he thinks bitterly, scrubbing away a few wayward tears with his fist. If that’s how Julian wants to play, then Valdo is more than up to the task. If their love can’t be legendary, then their rivalry will go down in history. War it is.

~~

bards week masterlist

#my fic #mine #valskier #valdskier #jaskier x valdo #valdo x jaskier #valdo marx

[liminal-storage]

Monsters Under the Bed

Prompt 7: Pawn

Characters: Auriga Marlowe

Warnings: Vague mentions of body horror/body snatching

---------------------------

The Marlowe estate had long been seen as a house of ill repute. Though the family's youngest had long since decided to keep an unbent spine and wear her pride like a fine taffeta gown, it soothed the soul to have a respite from those halls that carried such stigma. It was a den of sin and iniquity, some said. A house of torture or a house of pleasure, and no doubt there were heretical relics locked within the basements. The merciful Fury only knew what went on behind closed doors.

Now, those rumors were false, of course. The halls of the estate lie as empty and abandoned as the tomb they essentially served as. Even so, the living family members mostly tended to avoid the place.

Auriga lived and worked in a series of rooms above one of her cousins' goldsmithing shops. The allure of the fine craftsmanship along with the convenience of said cousin not bearing the Marlowe surname meant that, by and large, she could exist in peace with only the occasional over-committed gossipmonger spoiling her day. Oh, she'd still go back up to the estate from time to time in order to peddle her perfumes and host the bored lords and ladies in a merry séance. Those who attended loved to pretend that they were appalled by the spirit-show, covered their smiles with silken fans and faked scandalized gasps at the spectacle.

But her home was the little apartment with its clutter and dark portraits and half-dead houseplants, and she took nothing from the estate with her when she left.

Something came with all the same, a shadow that liked to lurk at the back door and wail in the shade of her sitting room's curtains. The presence came and went as it pleased, seeming to be spurred on by Auriga's attentiveness to it. Owing to this fact, she did everything in her power to ignore it and carry on as usual.

Yet every time she sat down at her vanity mirror to brush her hair out, the entity saw fit to remind her of the futility of her stubbornness. Long-fingered hands caught in the strands of her hair, twisted and tangled themselves in promise to never let her go.

<"Oh, Starlight. My Starlight.">

The thing walked in the skin of her most recently-deceased cousin, as it had with every dead Marlowe who came before. The entity always did things the same way; assumed the life of the deceased until the shell of the body could no longer house it. Then it would emerge, take a new host, and the family held a funeral. The charade always managed to fool the populace; none were any the wiser to the fact that a monster wore the dead like a suit and paraded about in the midst of some very influential circles. But the rest of the family knew why their relatives would suddenly start to wear veils that hid their eyes.

The entity simply could not replicate the spark of life in the eye at all.

It was with that blank, far-off, hollow gaze that the creature would stare at Auriga's reflection and whisper cruelties into her ear.

She'd long since stopped showing her fear, had forced herself to sit still as a statue since the first night it came to her wearing her mother.

<"My pretty, pretty Starlight. Won't you return to your home? The halls have grown so very lonesome without you.">

The thing's voice sounded like stale air sucked through a wet chest wound, like it was choking on its own blood with every syllable.

'Fury guide me,' she thought in silent prayer. 'Please, if you've any mercy in your breast, smite this creature.'

Funny, how fervently she prayed knowing it was fruitless. Either Halone's great hand was otherwise occupied, or her eyes had never fallen on their household to begin with.

<"My Starlight,"> Wheezed the creature. <"My favorite. You must bring the family back together.">

There was one spark of salvation, she supposed. Keeping herself in the creature's good graces, being its 'favorite' meant that she knew more than most, and that so long as she moved with care it would never suspect her betrayal.

And this affliction, the attachment this twisted shade had to the bloodline did not seem to have spread to others. No amount of digging into the family's archives indicated that another group had ever come across the man with a crooked gait and an emblem of a white owl. There was plenty of hope, but that hope wrapped itself in the edges of wicked blades for what she was beginning to think she must do.

She could put it all to an end, even if it meant bearing the weight of her ancestors' sins.

"I will," she answered, and let the brush fall from her hands so that the creature might take over for her. "Don't worry, dear Shayl. I will keep the promise that was made to you all those years ago."

She'd play the role of the thing's pawn for just a little longer. Until she had no choice but to let the mask drop.

#ffxivwrite2022 #Auriga Marlowe #my writing #liminal-storage #[just a little family curse]

[socksracoon10]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2

July 18th, 1886

Dearest Diane,  

My sorrow has bewitched my luck, it is slowly running out. Though Lucas has found himself a worthy tutor and I, a humble maid, there is still this... this heavy burden that is constantly gnawing at my heart’s tender regions. My mind has confirmed my fear that Robert shall never return and my heart grasps onto tiny fragments of hope while my soul remains restless, fighting between the two. There is still much left for me to do, but as I only have 1 pair of eyes, arms and legs, I’m quite frightened that the task of caring for my son will ultimately result in my death.

Forever yours, Priscilla C.

When the sun’s rays softly shone through the many houses of Southlyn, it was disappointed to find them empty. Abandoned and destitute lay the beds with the cotton blankets spread in a disorganized manner, as if everyone suddenly left themselves to attend to something far more important. The sun moved over a few more inches to get a better look into the town and there the civilians were, lined up eagerly outside the Piper household. Aside from the whispered gossip or the occasional frown on another’s face, the only thing that remained constant was the absolute despair that Mrs. Piper was experiencing. Mr. Hempfield, the local bobby, had marched into the house; he had a firm hand clasped around his nose and he pulled his hat closer to his eyes when he entered Harley’s room. From downstairs, the family only heard the shocked cries from the grown man as Mrs. Piper flinched.  

From down the street, the commotion had created a stir within Mr. Piper’s coach. The old gentleman had grown tired of having to endure the long journey and on top of all that, the driver had informed him that the road was blocked.  

“Absolutely preposterous!” The gentleman cried out, scurrying out of the coach to grab his belongings.

From the porch of the house, sat Harley Piper with rage pumping through his blood. His father wasn’t even home yet and the whole town was mocking them, calling them murderers in hushed tones. The cry of a man along with the neighing of horses caught the attention of the citizens who snapped their necks to see the commotion and their ill wishes only heightened after realizing it was Mr. Piper. The man was covered from head to toe in rainwater; he sputtered a good morning and dragged his luggage through the crowd with raised eyebrows.

“Has your cooking finally killed someone?” Mr. Piper laughed, staring at his wife. No response came and he grunted before looking around him. “What’s the problem here? What’s going on?” He inquired, and Harley couldn’t help but pity his father. The poor man had just come from a business trip, and he didn’t even know the horror the family was suffering. The front door swung open with Mr. Hempfield and Edward exiting cautiously, their hands fidgeting uncomfortably. Mr. Piper frowned, his bushy brows furrowing as his eyes traveled from the young man to the bobby and back to the young man.

“Good god, what have I missed?” Mr. Piper trembled, the luggage dropping onto the grass. Mr. Hempfield sniffed, stomping down the porch stairs with his hands flying to the handcuffs.  

“Mr. Piper, you will be placed under arrest for being a suspect in the gruesome murder of an unidentified body.”  

Mrs. Piper wailed at the accusation and her hands flew to her face, covering the streams of her tears that flooded out of her eyes. Harley shot up from his seat in shock,

“Mr. Hempfield, what evidence was even there that brought you to such an act?” Harley demanded, approaching his father’s side.  

“You’ve told me he was on a business trip, but aside from your word we have no further evidence that he really went on such a trip!” The bobby replied and Edward cried out in exasperation,

“This is a bloody joke, isn’t it? Mr. Hempfield, I assure you that it’s impossible for Mr. Piper to be the culprit behind this, I suggest we return to the room and find proper evidence-”

“Just because you’re attending that school gives you no right to question my methods,” Mr. Hempfield barked, attaching Mr. Piper to the handcuffs before using his baton to guide the man to his station. Mr. Piper remained silent as his head turned to give a final look at his family. Harley made eye contact with his father and noticed this sense of disappointment on the man’s face; his father had just accepted a lie and was being carried off when there clearly were no facts to prove that this was his work.  

The crowd around Piper’s household slowly began to fade away, each one of them returning to their houses to finish their breakfast or continue with their sleep. The family lay destitute on their front yard when Harley stormed past them, dashing to his bedroom with Edward trailing behind. The two young men found themselves staring at the dismembered arrangement, yet again, and this time it was not fear that took over their body. It was rage, this bubbling heat of anger that boiled their blood. Harley Piper’s feet could not stay still; he paced the room, circling the head as Edward finally got the courage to crouch down, examining the head of the victim. The chubby fat that drooped around the mouth and the sharp nose were strikingly similar to the baker just across Edward’s house; it surely had to be Mr. Morris. But what did a modest baker have to do to endure such a crime? Edward pondered his question for a while, before the rest of Mr. Hempfield’s team kicked the boys out of the room to remove the body. The young men watched the bobbies take each body part out of the room, and they all had the same revolted expression on their face.  

“I cannot fathom the reason why they arrested my father, how stupid are these people?” Harley scoffed, the knuckles of his hand turning white as his hands balled into fists. Edward could only nod his head in silence, afraid to say something else to anger his friend. He watched the youngest Piper rush into his room and pull out a Remington. The barrel of the gun glinted in the sunlight that shone through the window, and Harley’s hands glazed over the weapon; a delicate touch dancing on the metal. Edward’s eyes widened in surprise, his arms outstretched,

“What do you think you’re doing?” He fired, reaching out to grab the gun. Harley shoved the incoming hands away and pointed the weapon at his dear friend,

“You stop me from my task, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Edward was too stunned to speak, and even as he tried to search for the right words to use, they all seemed to come out as uneasy breaths. “Surely you don’t mean that, do you?” He asked when he finally got the words to form.

“I do. My whole family is ruined, my father is now arrested for something he didn’t do and that imbecile of a murderer is out there alive. I’m going to find him and I’m going to make sure he pays for what he has done,” Harley bellowed, jostling past Edward who merely stood there, paralyzed in fear.  

“There are more civil ways to do this, I’m sure you know that, Harley.”

“I don’t care what’s civil and what’s not anymore. If I need to become the worst of my species and revert to a savage animal, then I shall. I suggest you mind your own business now Edward, it would be for your own good.” Harley threatened and then promptly left his friend stranded in the bedroom.  

*******************************************************************************************

Lucas Charleston had woken up with a start from his maid in the morning; she had shaken him from his sleep, screaming at his face that a terrible thing had occurred in someone’s house. The blind man had raised from his bed in a fright, hands flailing around as he intended to knock out the maid for disrupting the slumber that he ever so rarely got in the first place and also because he didn’t want to hear anything ill so early in the morning. As the maid narrated the tale to him, Lucas shifted uncomfortably in his bed. The Baker? He thought to himself, confused as to why a baker would’ve been killed. Perhaps he poisoned the muffins, or the recipient of the cake was left unsatisfied with the sour taste of the cream.  

“A baker?” Lucas repeated after the maid, “A baker was killed? Good god, this world is surely turning to a living hell. A baker can’t even bake, anymore, can he?” He laughed, throwing the covers off his legs. The maid scorned the ignorant comment and helped Lucas towards the bathroom.  

“No one’s safe these days, not even you, Lucas!” The maid cried outside the door as Lucas chuckled,

“If someone were to kill me, I’m sure they themselves would find shame in their act. Imagine killing such an easy prey, I’m sure a killer would want a challenge.”

The maid did not respond, and the bathroom was flooded with the noises of water sloshing as Lucas brushed his teeth. He could already smell the breakfast delectables that were probably spread out on the breakfast table and his stomach ached with hunger. When he finished getting himself ready and after a proper bath with the maid aiding him, they both descended the stairs with care (even though God forbid he would climb stairs by himself, he detested them more than anything else) and headed towards the kitchen. As Lucas feasted on the maid’s talent, he heard a fast knocking on his door that caused him to cease all actions and turn around to face the noise.

“Mrs. Smith, do you hear that?” He inquired,

“Indeed, I do.” The maid responded, getting up from her chair with a groan as she sauntered her way to the door. She peered through the side windows to get a view of the mysterious visitor, but all she could see was a large sky-blue hat with white feathers fashionably attached. She had an instinct that it must be Mrs. Schmidt but she didn’t have the courage to test her luck and simply opened the door. Mrs. Smith smiled upon seeing that her original guess was correct and saw the young woman staring at the flowers near the steps; she appeared to be in a long trance when Mrs. Smith snapped her fingers, catching the attention of Mrs. Schmidt.  

“Darling, what were you staring at for so long?” The maid giggled and Mrs. Schmidt smiled thinly,

“The flowers are beginning to pale, water it properly,” She replied, curtly and pushed past the maid and into the kitchen. Mrs. Smith huffed in annoyance and shut the door behind her, marching to Lucas to make a proper complaint about his regular visitor but her hopes were crushed when she saw their hands intertwined with the young woman caressing the blind man’s left hand.  

“I do apologize for barging in all of a sudden, but I've come to make amends from my last visit. You see my husband as been quite... burdensome when he sees me interact with other males. He is a jealous creature, but I’ve finally convinced him otherwise. Now, Lucas, tell me, what have you done in this past week?” She inquired, her hands shifting to a scone that Mrs. Smith had made.  

The blind man shook his head, “I don’t believe anything interesting can ever happen with my... my eyes, but my ears did pick up on some certain news, love.” His head shifted to his left as he believed Mrs. Smith to be standing there; she was not, actually. She had left to wash the clothes but Mrs. Schmidt didn’t utter a word as she let him continue his imagination,

“I heard someone was murdered today,” he said with a grin, and she smiled,

“Ah yes, I heard of it too. Poor Harley, his father was arrested and the boy went mad because of it." Mrs. Schmidt responded, rising from her seat. With the excuse of using the bathroom, she lifted the ends of her skirt and approached the stairs. The dent of Lucas’s head on step four still remained evident even after all these years and her eyes shifted from them to the very top where the right side of the wall remained scratched. Taking a deep breath, she shuffled upstairs and down the hallway to the mysterious room. The room had been closed for decades. The door to it was encased with what seemed to be the finest wood and there was a stained-glass window in the heart of it; easy access for on-goers to peer into. As she opened the entrance, it let out a magnificent creak, one to alert everyone present in the household. Mrs. Schmidt froze, hands firmly on the door and she held her breath.

“Is that you, Charlotte?” Lucas questioned from the kitchen and Mrs. Schmidt adjusted her voice to sound quite merry,

“Yes, it is, I told you I’m off to the bathroom!”  

“Oh right of course, carry on then!” The blind man replied, and Mrs. Schmidt rolled her eyes, moving the door open despite the heavy noise it made. This despicable door, she grimaced, and nearly had a coughing fit over the dust. She stepped back, trying to regain his breath. Her eyes darted to the hallway, seeing if there was any movement within. None was detected, thank the lords. Her eyes searched eagerly for that diary her husband always talked about and her delight knew no bounds when she found it placed safely on a pedestal right underneath a portrait of Priscilla Charleston. Taking the book, she gathered the courage to sit on the floor and gazed up at the painting of the mysterious woman in the room; a woman in her early 30s, the hint of white at the corners of her forehead that faded into the auburn of her hair. A petite nose with big yet soft eyes; her irises were that of the deep blue sea. She admired her beauty from the floor, finding it unfair that this woman was more beautiful than her. She returned to the book when she heard footsteps from the bottom of the staircase. Hesitating for a split second, she finally jumped into the air and fled out. Scuttling into the bathroom, she shut the door and what followed were uneven breaths and the maid banging on the door.  

“What’s taking you so long, young lady?” Her voice seemed pressurizing; it reminded Mrs. Schmidt of the pressure cookers in the kitchen, waiting to burst open.

“Just a second, ma’am!” She answered, panicking as to what to do with the book. She noticed the set of washcloths that had been placed in the corner of the washbasin and with a heavy heart she grabbed a towel nearby and wrapped the book in it. After that, she pulled out a bug from under her dress and stuffed the book inside. When she opened the bathroom door, she saw the seething form of Mrs. Smith, ready to pounce on her any second.  

“My apologies, ma’am. I had to... do some things, first.” She struggled to formulate a possible lie. Trying not to cause further suspicion, she raced down the stairs to bid goodbye to Lucas. She shook his hand and promised to meet him next week for a longer time than usual before rushing out the door. As she got onto her coach, she giddily shut the door and clapped her hands together in joy. This was it; she had done her deed and she couldn’t think of anyone else that would have done the same as her. Her husband would be proud of her, no doubt in that, and she could finally picture herself earning a new necklace or an accessory. Or even what she desired the most: control over him and his dense family.  

[lan-valdispenton]

I feel scared and helpless, nothing feels real, I look around my room and begin to hyperventilate, eyes moving erratically,

tears threatening to fall.

My mind spiraling with memories of what I've done, my family, friends, past lovers, my last lover..

It truly makes my heart ache.

My mind is wailing it's horrific cries pleading for another outcome from it's current state of suffering.

And I, the prisoner that was born into this state of suffering.

I plead the God my mother kneeled before to save me.

Instead it ignored my wails and cries proceeding to silence me, shoving horrid experiences down my throat as a way to suffice for what it had already done.

I now sit here, tears streaming down the face.

The husk of a happy baby girl at the age of only 5 years old sitting alone, awaiting her father's return.

Only her fathers return has been awaiting since the new age of 14.

The child was bright and was once filled with curiosity and laughter.

But how that was stolen so long ago.

It's been replaced with an eternal rotting corpse, maggots leaching of the body of their new host.

The corpse of the child cries for her mother and father to aid her in her suffering.

Save her from the monsters under her bed, the clowns in the basement, and the mental illnesses of her mind.

Yet she won't be aided, due to her father's addiction to alcohol and drugs that stole the last chance to ever see him again.

And the arrival of a new boyfriend alongside two step siblings, that her mother met along the age while she was 7.

The child was forgotten due to another arrival of two infants that her mother brought home from the hospital.

The child still awaiting her father's embrace that won't ever come lays in agony crying alone in the void, darkness soon to consume her.

The child only wanted a mother and father that loved her unconditionally.

The child went quiet, she no longer cried, pain no longer was frequent.

The child's skin was cold, eyes lacking of any life, she was finally aided.

But not by her mother nor father, but Death.

It couldn't bear to hear the sorrow in her voice no longer.

It new it was time to give the child her long awaited peace.

And so the child could now become happy once again, she could be pushed on the swing by her father's hands.

The child could now have a girls day with her mother.

The child could finally be at peace in an eternal sleep of false memories that never happened.

The child will never have to feel the heartache of a broken heart ever again..

By Caul

6:59 p.m

Tue, August 16 , 2022