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ashs-cardboard-box · 2 months

Text

Clumsy and frantic

~ Harvey/GN!Reader

~ Romantic

~ 1.1k words

ib: @the-spookington

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“What were you THINKING, Y/N?? I- I told you not to go in there..! It- it’s dangerous and- and I can’t–” Harvey speaks frantically, practically stumbling over his words as he gently holds your face in his hands. His eyes were blown wide underneath his glasses as they rapidly dart across your face. Frowning as you lie in one of his hospital beds.

He wasn’t at all trying to be mean, he was just terrified for your safety. He was always hyper-conscious of other people’s health, but especially you. He was so overwhelmed with a mixture of anxiousness and exhaustion that his words left his mouth before he could grab ahold of them.

Truthfully, you were fine..at least, you felt so anyway. You had collapsed on your way back to your farm from Elliott’s shack on the beach, needing to deliver him something on Leah’s behalf. Only to be found by Linus shortly after and dragged down to the hospital before leaving again.

It was a little past two am, a few hours after his usual bedtime at ten. Upon seeing you get dragged in, he had no time at all to get properly dressed before his anxiety hit him like a Joja train. His hair was disheveled from its usual combed down state, similar to it’s unkempt state after a rough shift at the end of a long day. Wearing a white shirt with a small front pocket, underneath a long, forest green, wool cardigan. The fibers of the thick fabric frayed and standing up every which way. His legs only covered by his green, pinstripe briefs, yet he had hardly noticed. He was too worried about you to care about his own shame.

“I’m fine, Harvey.. Really..” You try to say, only for Harvey to shake his head quickly. Muttering nervous plans to himself as he steps away from you, his cardigan swaying behind him. His sleep addled brain pushing into overdrive to make sure you’re one hundred-ten percent okay.

His hands scanning over his cabinets before his eyes ever properly read anything. Knowing his place of work like the back of your hand, not his. He pulls out a large variety of items of which you’re unsure on how most of them are supposed to be used.

“What hurts?” Harvey asks, but it comes out as more of a concerned demand. Setting his various equipment down on a metal cart next to your bed. You can’t help but feel at least a little guilty for making him so worried, but at the end of the day, you knew it was probably inevitable. You have a small bruise on your shin after tripping over a shovel earlier and a sore spot on your head from hitting the ground.

Instead of responding, you carefully sit up and take both of his hands in your own. Your thumbs gently caressing over his knuckles as you look into his worried brown eyes. “Deep breath..” you say quietly, taking a few deep breaths yourself as an example. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

The Adam’s apple in Harvey’s throat bobbing as he swallows thickly with a slow nod, following your breathing pattern to calm his rapidly beating heart. His hands slowly tighten around yours as he sighs heavily. A sad smile crossing over his lips before he leans down and places a small kiss onto your forehead. The coarse hairs of his mustache tickling your skin, though you pay it no mind.

“Thank you, honey. I- I’m sorry.. I just– you scare me sometimes..” Harvey murmurs, pulling away to look down at you with the same concern. It’s obvious he’s still looking for any sort of damage he could fix.

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whisper, pulling his hands to your lips and kissing the back of both, right on the knuckle of his middle fingers. Your eyes still up on his own as you shift on your hospital bed again, slinging your feet over the edge to put your muddy boots down on the clean floor. “I promise- I’m fine. Just a small headache is all”

Harvey nods slowly in acknowledgement, feeling his cheeks turn a rosy pink at your gentle treatment. Leaning down again to place a peck onto your lips before he parts from you once more. Calmer this time, he pulls his cart back over to his cabinets, putting away all of his unnecessary equipment he grabbed in his freakout.

“I’ll have to make sure you didn’t sustain a concussion with your fall, but otherwise, I can provide you an ice pack for any soreness. Anything else feel wrong? Headache, nauseous, confused…” He trails off, just giving examples on things you could be feeling. Finishing up putting away his supplies, he glances back over towards you, tugging his cardigan closed.

You slowly shake your head with a light chuckle. “No- no.. nothing like that.” you deny honestly, interlacing your fingers with one another and setting your hands in your lap. Your eyes practically glued to the doctor.

He heads right back to the side of your bed with a mere penlight in hand. Putting the tips of his middle and index fingers underneath your chin, he lifts your head up to be able to see you entirely. He takes in your features appreciatively for a long moment before snapping himself back into his work.

“Just a small light..” Harvey murmurs in clarification, showing you the penlight before clicking it on. You keep your eyes straight into his own to allow him to check up on you. He slowly brings the light to the edges of your eyes, watching the way your already dilated pupils expand and contract without issue.

While he doesn’t comment on it, he finds it incredibly adorable. The knowledge that oxytocin and dopamine are making your pupils expand when you see him makes his heart swell with affection. Clicking the penlight off and setting it into the front pocket of his plain, white shirt.

“You’re all good, honey. Do you want an ice pack?” Harvey asks gently, to which you shake your head, prompting more confusion from him. “Just another kiss from you.” you grin cheekily. Harvey feels his cheeks burn as he leans down and places another kiss onto your forehead.

“I feel better already.” you remark sarcastically, though there was a hint of truth in your words. Even without doing any sort of medical procedures, Harvey always manages to make you feel better, with the added trait of getting all giddy like a schoolgirl.

Harvey laughs softly as he carefully helps you up from your hospital bed, treating you as if you’re glass. “Then I suppose you’ll feel even better when we go upstairs.” he teases, knowing good and well he’s just going to bear hug you until the two of you fall asleep. He’d be crazy to send you home tonight.

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he's so real

(Thank you to Spooki for the idea !!! again !!)

#stardew valley x reader #stardew valley #harvey stardew valley #harvey x reader #harvey x farmer

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 6 months

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How well do the sdv and sve bachelor/ette's flirt, and what styles of flirting do they have in your opinion? Hope you respond and enjoy writing your headcanon if you do :3

Hey hey, dear anon 👋 Thanks for your question! I enjoy writing headcanons and always glad to see you on my blog ☺️❤️

How well Stardew Valley/Stardew Valley Expanded bachelors/ettes flirt with the Farmer:

SDV bachelors:

Alex:

Flex. A lot of flex. Every time Farmer is around, Alex will lift heavy objects, thus showing off his muscles. Heavy? No, it's not hard for him to hold a huge crate at all! He repeatedly brags about his achievements in sports, but also doesn't forget to praise the Farmer for their hard work and looks. If Farmer gives the 'green light" for his flirting, Alex will move on to more classic things: small gifts, bouquets of flowers, walks on the beach, that sort of thing. Very nice of him, by the way. 6/10 - if he doesn’t praise himself often.

Sam:

In regards to flirting with someone, Sam gets a bit of a funny situation, which can be described by the phrase "Task failed successfully". Being inexperienced in love affairs, Sam often confuses words when he tries to flirt, or trips over an unfortunate rock in the road when he wants to approach Farmer. The young musician thinks to himself that his flirting is terrible and that he is clumsy. However, after much laughter, the Farmer thought Sammy was a very funny guy who would always make them laugh and they wanted to get to know him better. Task failed successfully! 5/10, although the flirting wasn't very good, it still worked!

Elliott:

If you think Elliott is going to seduce Farmer like in the book novels, you're absolutely right! But there is a little nuance. Yes, Elliott is a very well-mannered and sophisticated man, so his flirting, gifts and time spent will be the most romantic. However, a life of seclusion in a beach house has also made itself felt, and sometimes Elliott can forget that this is not a romance, but real life. So, let the Farmer get ready for small talk and nice walks in nature. Elliott will try to find an excuse to meet Farmer more often. 9/10, very good!

Sebastian:

Oh man, Sebastian's flirting.... is a bit of a mess. The young man was too shy and socially awkward to flirt with his object of affection in any way. He couldn't muster up the courage to show his past affection for Abigail, and it's more complicated than that. More often than not, and unknowingly, Sebby will smile and blush when talking to Farmer, avert his gaze, also more often invite them to his house to play board games or read comics. 3/10, sorry Seb, but that's not much of a flirt.

Harvey:

Yoba witnesses, Harvey tries his best, and, in principle, his flirting with Farmer turns out quite well. Not without flaws, of course, when he got a little nervous and confused, but quite acceptable and very romantic. The local doctor doesn't have much experience in love adventures, but he knows very well that the classics won't let him down if he wants to show his interest in the chaotic Farmer. 7/10, the key thing for Harvey is to keep his nerve (and not offer private medical check-up too often).

Shane:

Flirting is not Shane's thing. He has pretty low self-esteem and doesn't seem to care what most people think of him or what he looks like. Even if he gets the urge to try and start courting Farmer in some way, he stops himself most of the time. Unfortunately, Shane considers himself unworthy of their attention, like, who would want to socialise with someone like him. So the chicken lover will just throw dreamy glances at Farmer in the Saloon. Although, after a couple of beers, he does manage to flirt somehow (a bit vulgar, but still). 2/10, Farmer needs to make the first move themselves if they're interested in Shane.

SVE bachelors:

Lance:

No one knows whether it's a natural talent or whether Lance was taught a whole set of rules on how to flirt and behave in society, but this gallant man with a catty grin on his face is just a real master of flirting. Just like a noble knight in shining armour who came out of a chivalric novel. He knows perfectly well what levers to pull in order to gain the goodwill of the person he likes. Even if the Farmer doesn't mind flirting, but are an impregnable fortress, Lance is willing to spend a lot of time to conquer that fortress. 10/10, what a real romantic bastard.

Victor:

Behold - the smoothest man who can outdo even Elliott in his mastery of romance and very subtle flirting. Though a bit shy and introverted, Victor knows how to make the Farmer blush with a compliment (thanks to the many books on the subject in his personal library). Lots of walks, interesting and not too long conversations, dinner at the Saloon, or even sitting together at the game console. Victor chooses his complimentary words very carefully and watches the Farmer's reaction. If they don't feel uncomfortable, Victor continues. 8/10, this spaghetti man is full of surprises.

Magnus Rasmodius:

It had been a long time since Magnus had flirted with anyone, the last time he'd done so had been when he was younger... So it wasn't easy for him to remember everything he knew about love affairs, though even in his youth there had been only one affair, then marriage, then divorce, then.... Oh, well, that's just the way it is. Magnus is quite a romantic wizard, no doubt about it, but the hardest thing is to start flirting, especially if it's successful. It would help him to spend time together (a.k.a. magic lessons, thanks that Farmer has talent and is no stranger to Magnus). 4/10, c'mon Magnus, we believe in you.

SDV bachelorettes:

Leah:

Leah's main flirt is praise and shared pastime. Farmer very often becomes her muse for a future painting or sculpture, which, by the way, Leah then presents them. Collecting mushrooms and berries together, where the girl shares her experience in finding the best places with a lot of delicious gifts of the forest, she also repeatedly offers her help on the farm and praises their physical build. Leah is not shy about flirting, and if Farmer is single and doesn't feel uncomfortable during her flirting, the girl will continue until she achieves victory on the love front. 7/10, pretty good and confident flirting.

Penny:

Penny is a very sweet and kind girl, but she has zero ambition. She blushes too much and she almost always looks away or hides her face in a book if she sees Farmer, so it's an impossible task for a young teacher to approach her object of affection and start flirting. Her trouble is that Penny thinks she's a "grey mouse" who no one will pay much attention to, much less someone like Farmer. 0/10, I'm sorry Penny, but you have no flirting skills at all.

Maru:

Maru will look for any excuse to fix Farmer's broken appliances to get to know each other better. Broken recycling machine? Maru is already here, always ready to help them. In fact, she's always helped with repairs, but now her visits have become even more frequent. Mostly, the young inventor is a bit shy and rather timid when she tries to compliment the Farmer's appearance or clothes. She is sometimes afraid she might bore them with her chatter about her inventions. But if Farmer enjoys listening to a girl, she'll definitely talk all her ears off about science, and it will be much easier for her to flirt with them. 5/10, not too good but not too bad.

Haley:

Oh, Haley sure has a few tricks to get Farmer's attention on herself. After all, she was a star in high school and the centre of attention for many of her fans. Flirting is her thing. A subtle hint of wanting a relationship here, a successful praise there, a light conversation afterwards, a "chance" encounter here - it's a whole art for the blonde-haired girl. Also one of her best tactics is to be herself: to be nice, fun, and not to stay under the mask of a slightly spoilt and rude girl. Haley's tactics work, and Farmer has also started to take a liking to her. 8/10, there are a couple of flaws, but overall a quality flirt.

Abigail:

The amethyst lover's hints of flirting almost directly scream that she likes Farmer a lot. Recall at least her post 8 ❤️ event when she says that "Farmer must know what happened yesterday". But Abigail is going to start wooing them anyway, as she's not sure they've realized what happened yesterday after all. Constant compliments from Abby, also one of her main flirtations is her sketches of various fantasy characters, which she gives to Farmer. 6.5/10, not bad in principle but could be better.

Emily:

Honestly, I'm not sure Emily understands what flirting is at all. Well, she feels sympathy and a love interest for Farmer, but even when the two are officially a couple, Emily thanks them and refers to them as "good friend". "Friend", friendzone forever... Sure, she'll always compliment Farmer on their beautiful looks or their harmonious clothing choices, but it feels like she still refers to them as a friend. 1/10, I love you Emily, but you're not trying at all.

SVE bachelorettes:

Sophia:

Have pity on poor Sophia, she's having a hard enough time socialising as it is, and then there's the need to flirt! She has a very similar case as Penny, but unlike the red-haired girl, Sophia makes more attempts. Watching anime together, chatting about new manga, the latest from the video game world, etc... She also shares the most delicious snacks and sweets with Farmer, which is a big step considering how shy she is. This sort of thing comes across as just a friendly hangout, but Sophia tries to hint that she wants more than friendship. 4/10, she's really trying her best.

Olivia:

Need to say - Olivia is a bit of a contradiction in terms. This woman was a masterful flirt when she was younger if she really liked someone, and her skill hasn't faded over the years. The problem is simply that she's a widow, hasn't had a relationship since her husband's death, and feels that her flirting with someone (especially a younger person like Farmer) would constitute a betrayal to her late husband. If Olivia and Farmer work it out, the woman will quickly show the object of her affection what sophisticated and professional flirting is all about. 9/10, mommy- *ahem*, Olivia knows how to wow Farmer.

Claire:

Due to the fact that Claire is a rather quiet and shy girl (not as shy as Penny or Sophia) and her constant fatigue at work at JojaMart, flirting with Farmer is not easy for her. On the other hand, the young girl always feels a rush of energy when she sees her close friend (who has become her object of admiration). Claire doesn't have too many tricks in her flirting arsenal, but compliments and spending time together are assured. 5/10, not too bad, actually.

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babiebom · 8 months

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Please please please please PLEASE do the nsfw alphabet for sdv harvey? He’s my husband I love him soooo much

A/N: yes!! I’m surprised there haven’t been more requests for Harvey I thought he was more popular. Also since you didn’t specify I’ll do three random ones? If you want something specific you can request again :)

Tw: sexual content

Alphabet Post Masterlist

A- Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The man is a doctor, he had to have gone through med school and biology? So rather than the others he knows just how important Aftercare is for both the body and the mind. The man WILL NOT REST until you are comfortable and happy and have had just a little bit of a snack and water. KING of aftercare we love a smart man.

E-Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Like a lot of people, I think this man FUCKS. I do think that in college he had a period of time where he just slept around as a way to be less stressed with all of his classes and life in general. Don’t worry he used protection, and was safe about everything so VERY experienced and knows what he is doing.

On the other hand he could be like a total virgin but i doubt it.

I-Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think he is the second most romantic just behind Elliott. While Elliott has the writing romance bone, Harvey is more of a romantic person that is just a bit clumsy? He will put roses and make dinner, but might burn the dinner and forgets to cut the thorns off. It’s endearing though. Like the hot air balloon date.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv headcanons #stardew headcanon #stardew valley headcanons #sdv harvey #sdv hcs #stardew harvey #stardew valley harvey #stardew hcs #stardew valley hcs #stardew valley bachelors #stardew shitpost #stardew valley shitpost #sdv shitpost #sdv smut #stardew smut #stardew valley smut

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love-toxin · 1 year

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I'm so in love with the way you write!! Especially bully!Eddie, he makes me feel all gooey inside<3 can't wait to see what you write next, pretty 🥰✨

hehehe!!! take this!!! (yes i am using this as an opportunity to be self-indulgent AND festive even tho i finished this a little late LOL <3)

(cws: bully!dad!eddie, f!mom!angelface, christmas festivities, gift-giving, teasing, mentions of postpartum healing and a past of poverty living, set 5 years post-babytrapping, fluff.)

If you thought Eddie wasn't gonna bother getting gifts for your children before he became a father, you would be beyond wrong. He's always been mean, always been rough, but ever since that first Christmas you spent together as a family, he's been the biggest softie you've ever seen for his babies.

Your first one, Elliott, is getting bigger by the day--he's five and still as much of an angel as the day he was born, dark curls exploding all over his head and freckles dusting his nose. Lorien, who just turned four, is a clumsy little guy with his father's eyes and your soft, demure smile. And Trinity is still a bit too small to show much personality yet, but she's giggly and a good sleeper and quite happy for a two-month-old in a chaotic house full of boys. They all get spoiled, but not rotten, lucky for you. Eddie can at least be strict at times and you don't fold easily to those glimmery little eyes when the boys are begging for something they want. But that definitely changes at Christmas, when your husband plays the role of Santa so well you might as well slap a fake beard on his chin and give him a suit to go with his sack of goodies.

However, that same gesture hasn't exactly extended to you. It's not one-sided--you don't really get him much, either--but Eddie's gifts to you in the last five years have been pretty scarce. Your birthday is always a different story and so is his, but with having at least one child each year and that number growing over time, as well as struggling to pay bills and keep the roof over your heads on a single income, presents haven't ever really been a spectacle between you two. Usually it's some chocolate if he can afford it, or simply a kiss and the promise of a date during those couple years where you could barely avoid food, those awful times when you literally scrounged for whatever pennies you could save just to get your children something to open on Christmas morning. All the while watching and feeling a sense of relief at their excitement, all while yours and Eddie's stomachs rumbled with hunger but your boys sat full and satisfied.

But those days of struggling are over, at least for the foreseeable future. This year Eddie's taken over a considerable chunk of the garage as a partner and started doing detail work on the side, and with the success of that as well as the band picking up more and more gigs, you've watched those fears of not being able to provide for your children slowly vanish in your rearview. You even have a job yourself, part-time at the general store where you can chat away with Joyce and have a little time and money to yourself. This is the first year you're actually spending the holidays in a house instead of the trailer, one that you scouted out and Eddie bought, and with all those changes under your belts, you've managed to carve out quite the life for yourself and your little family.

And Eddie's changing, too. You'll never be proud of what you did, you're sure you'll never not feel a little sick at the memory of sabotaging his contraceptives all those years ago. But you've grown and so has Eddie--he's still gruff, and can be a little prickly around the edges when he's in a mood, but your opinion of him definitely changed when you watched him become a parent. And not in the literal sense, just at Elliott's birth. You've watched him become gentle and sweet and learn how to manage himself, you've seen him apply those behaviors to you and you've even gotten some good moments out of him--an apology, for one, and a promise as well.

"I'm never gonna be perfect, I know. But I'll...I'll be the kinda guy a girl like you deserves. I'll be good to you. And....fuck, I mean, I'll try and make it up to you for all that stupid shit. I'll just....I'll find a way, okay? I'll find a way."

That way had been a ring and another baby, the latter of the two being pure coincidence, but he really is making an effort. That much is obvious in the littlest things, like how he waved you off to bed and told you he'd take care of the baby tonight, doing all the feeding and burping and changing and soothing that would usually be shared between the two of you. His only excuse had been that it was Christmas Eve, and he expected a damn good breakfast in the morning for all that last-minute grocery shopping he'd had to do for you the day before. But even as he served you all that indignation and sass, he had cradled your baby girl in his arms as he gave you a kiss, and quietly smiled down at her as he cooed a little lullaby and you snuggled up in your bed to sleep.

"Mommy! It's Christmas, mommy! Wake up!"

When you're finally shaken awake by your boys at eight am sharp, you almost aren't sure where you are, or what day it is--you've been so exhausted taking care of your newborn that you've forgotten what a good night's sleep is. They hop around cheering and grabbing at you to get you up, only calming down enough to lean in for kisses when you bid them a good morning. When you're eventually dragged out of bed by those two excitable little gremlins and stumble half-awake through the hallway, you nearly bump right into your husband as he's carrying your daughter back to her bassinette.

"Mmh....Eds, did you sleep?"

"A little." Somehow, he's grinning, despite it being so early and him sporting bags under his tired eyes. You hadn't been woken up once that you can remember, not even to breastfeed, which would mean that Eddie had been up with Trin for pretty much the whole night in the nursery. Not unusual, but....well, sometimes you forget he can be pretty thoughtful when he feels like it. With a kiss placed on your daughter's head, and another sleepily pressed to Eddie's lips, you rub your eyes and let your sons take each hand to pull you down the steps to go see what Santa left you all. And, as per usual, only half-listening to their father's nagging to slow it down, so you don't go flying!

Fortunately, by the time you're down the stairs and Eddie's on your heels, you've blinked away snough of the sleep that you can stretch and yawn and shake off the tiredness that had kept you so soft and warm in bed. You let the boys take the lead as they hurry into the living room, and when you turn the corner to join them, you're met with quite the unexpected surprise. One that leaves you so pleasantly shocked that even Eddie can't smother his low, soft laughter as he comes up behind you for a kiss to your ear.

Waiting for your boys at the base of the tree are the gifts you and Eddie had wrapped and placed there, making sure to do so later in the night to give your boys a proper taste of that innocent belief in Santa Claus. But Eddie's ploy of staying up with the baby evidently wasn't all for the reasons he had supposed--you can see now that the stockings you had put up over the back of the couch, purely just for decoration, have been stuffed full to bursting with sweets and little toys and trinkets. You've got three of them, one for each child with their names stitched in by Eddie's careful hands, but there's another one that wasn't there last night. Smaller, cuter, but still with a few goodies inside that look like your favourite chocolates peeking out the top and some fuzzy socks. When you turn to look at him, he doesn't even pretend he wasn't looking, although he swerves around you and does pretend to be occupied with soothing your still-sleeping baby.

"Looks like Santa got a lot of work done, huh, boys?" You call out to them while not breaking your locked stare with your husband, arms crossing over your chest as you exchange a few looks that don't feel as innocent as they once were. Eddie winks in that confident way that stirs a heat up in your belly, before he turns and moves to lay your daughter down in the little handmade cradle by the wall that he's left out since the boys were small enough to sleep in it.

"Uh huh! Mama, look! Santa gave you presents!" Lorien calls right back to you, plopped down right next to his brother as they wait on the rug by the tree, practically vibrating with excitement. You quirk an eyebrow, but Eddie hustles over and distracts them by starting up the train of gift-unwrapping, handing each of them their first present with a warm sort of smile that doesn't come around all that often. With their interests piqued and their excited squeals coming out as they tear through the colourful paper, you pull the crib over a few feet to include your little girl in the festivities and take a seat on the couch. You're definitely still on the mend from Trinity's birth, and you don't mind rocking the little wooden cradle as you watch your children laugh and thank mommy, daddy, and Santa for their new toys.

They're such sweet kids, and you don't feel like you're that amazing of a person, so it's really quite the phenomenon that they've turned out to be such respectful and kind little boys. Elliott is so gentle in helping his little brother open the harder to unwrap presents, and they both hold each side of the gifts they got for you and for Eddie as they place them in your laps, giggling and squirming when they get a hail of kisses on their faces as thanks for the little drawings and handmade necklaces. But after most of the pile has diminished, and your sons are thoroughly wiped out from the excitement and looking forward to breakfast, Eddie tilts his head and gestures towards the kitchen.

"Go get a snack, and watch your cartoons in the den until breakfast. Help your brother open his, El."

"Okay, daddy!" With one of their new toys in hand and one last tight, gripping hug on each side for their beloved father, Elliott grabs Lorien's little hand and leads him towards the kitchen, both sets of adult ears tuning in to hear the sounds of them bustling around before they get to the right cupboard, and hustle into the playroom in a fit of giggles to catch their favourite cartoons. Then, and only then, does Eddie drag out those presents that had been hiding around the back of the tree, and drops them carefully in front of you until there's at least six or seven boxes by your feet. It isn't until you pick one up and read the tag on it that you realize it's addressed to you, and with a nervous bite to your lip you look back at your husband without much to say. Is it a prank? He encourages you to open them, and when you pull one of those mid-sized boxes towards you and gingerly lift the top off, you blink away the surprise of seeing a few nice, soft sweaters lying inside. All three are somewhat similar to cashmere if not the real thing, they're in your size, they're in colours you like....but he brushes off your awed thank-yous and just puts another gift in your lap, waiting anxiously for you to open it and find the hair clips and little makeup set inside that you'd been wanting.

"Eddie....really, you didn't have to get me anything. You didn't have to get me this much."

"Oh, shut your mouth, you little goody-goody. Take the damn gifts." He shakes off your gratitude like a wet dog, and shoves the next present into your hands before you can even fawn over the one you've already got. Yet, despite coming off as aggressive as he can be, he's got that smug smirk crawling its way across his lips whenever you seem shocked or excited at what he had bought you. But when the hail of presents is done with, and Christmas morning has officially wrapped up, you feel a sense of guilt as you thumb through the books and the tapes he had got you for the new cassette player you have. While you've definitely gone without any gift exchanging in other years, you did get him some new work gloves and a pic case with the Metallica logo on it this time, but it doesn't seem like it's enough. And he can tell by the way you meekly apologize for your pathetic gift-giving, although he doesn't scoff or poke fun at you like he usually would. He just....looks down at his hands, and fiddles with the string on his plaid sleep pants before he answers you.

"You gave me three kids, and a life, and....and a reason to live. You didn't need to get me anything, and you shouldn't have, cause...." He trails off, and you sit there slack-jawed in awe of what you're hearing, wondering if that's really what you're hearing, because it's so rare for Eddie to be touchy-feely when he's also being lucid about his own behavior. You know he knows how he acts is cruel at times, which is why he's really toned down since you first got pregnant and when you had the boys and Trinity. I'm not gonna be like my father. That's what he had said, and he's kept his word since then. Even so, he slips up at times, but you never would've thought that even with all the progress he's made, he'd do something like this completely out of the blue. Eddie smiles at some thought he's got in his head, and reaches over to clasp his warm, rough hand over yours, and you turn your wrist so you can hold it back and lace your fingers together as your palms touch. "Sometimes, I only got up in the mornings because I knew I'd get to see you. I'd get to bully that dumb smile off your face and make you cry, and I'd feel something."

Maybe it's something in the air, but you feel the courage well up inside you to bring your entwined hands up to your face, and kiss each one of his knuckles so tenderly. Usually that would serve as an oportunity for Eddie to flick your nose or jab at you for being a cheesy, mushy crybaby, but shockingly again he says nothing and just....smiles again. It feels normal. Maybe he's been doing it more recently, and you just haven't noticed.

"Now I got people that depend on me, I....I got people who care whether I live or die. I can work hard day after day, and know that the ones I love will get something out of it. I'm someone's fucking dad. That's crazy." Just as the words come out of his mouth, you hear the squeals and laughter of your boys in the other room, along with the soft gurgling of your precious little girl as she starts waking up. He really isn't wrong, he works incredibly hard to provide and even when he grumbles and complains as he pulls himself out of bed to cover someone's no-show shift, he still comes home with a tired smile to welcome his boys into a hug and waltzes in to kiss you hello. He teases you to no end but he still holds you when you're in pain, he takes your complaints and worries so seriously and never misses a chance to bring you to the clinic or pick up your medicines if that's what you need. And even after twelve, thirteen, or fourteen hour shifts where everything's gone wrong and he just wants to pass out for the whole evening, you still stir awake to get a bleary-eyed look at his bare back as he stands over Trinity's bassinette, soothing and bottle-feeding her late into the night so you won't have to get up.

"You're an amazing father, Eddie." You lean into him, a kiss pressed to his jaw as you hold his hand so closely to your chest, and even with your head resting on his shoulder and his breath hitching when yours puffs against his skin, he still rumbles out a soft bit of mockery to fill the empty space between.

"Shut up. Fucking softie.....I love you."

"I love you too." You kiss his chin this time, and he takes the hint to tilt his head down and capture your lips when you go in for another. He's chapped and warm, he smells of milk and a bit of menthol along with his cologne, and it's the strangest combination but it so encompasses Eddie as he is now. He's the kind of father that would get his children McDonald's and watch them eat with a smile as his stomach rumbled, and he's the kind of husband that would agree to share your meal just to take the most unintrusive bite of your burger and tell you he's full. And he's the type of man that, if you ever fell back on those hard times again, would do it all over and more if it meant making sure that his wife and children were taken care of. And still he asks for nothing, but you know by the way he had stared down at the drawings and that pic case and traced the insignia that he'll treasure those moments forever--he'll always know that he's loved, and that his sacrifices will always mean something to your family, especially when your kids grow up and find those same values within themselves. Hopefully, with your influence included, without any of those feelings of abandonment or turmoil that Eddie's still working at undoing with you as you both grow older.

As you sit there together, cuddling and holding one another with plentiful thumps of your hearts, you squeeze his arm so tight and let him feel how much love tightens around it in a hug. He looks so peaceful, and you just have to take the chance to teasingly throw his favourite words right back at him as he looks so solemn and lost in thought. "You gonna cry, you little baby?"

"Fuck you," He spits back immediately with a grin, turning to look down on you and following it up with an especially passionate kiss. If it weren't for your kids being in the other room, and for Trinity starting to stir in the crib as she yawns, it probably wouldn't have stopped there. But for now it does, and Eddie helps you to your feet as you hug him close one last time before moving to welcome your little girl into your arms, and see what she's feeling like so you can hopefully omit some oncoming discomfort. Clingy as ever, Eddie snakes his arms around you from behind one last time as you hold her, kissing your cheek over your shoulder and gently bopping Trin's little Munson nose before he whispers his plans for breakfast in your ear, and slips away to duck into the kitchen.

"Boys! Breakfast in ten! Bacon, yes or no?"

"Yes!" The two of them shout back to their father from the playroom, and you chuckle to yourself as he pretends to mishear them just to elicit a playful reaction, as they frantically correct their daddy while you spend a little time tending to your newborn. Thankfully she doesn't seem too hungry yet, just a little restless, so you lay her back down in the crib and make a mental note to remind Eddie to bring the whole thing over to the table so you can all eat as a family. For now, though, you find yourself meandering back through the archway to find your husband at the stove, several pans already laid out and a carton of eggs open as he's in the midst of cracking a few and humming. You recognize the tune, One Night in the City, and you find yourself joining in with a softer voice as you come up from behind, and wrap your arms around him to lovingly rub his belly the way he likes. It's kinda sweet how surprised he always is to find that you've remembered things like that about him, and as always, he has to brush it off with a few words so he doesn't have to acknowledge how special it makes him feel.

"You love me, huh? That's embarrassing." Even so, he grazes the hand you've got on his stomach with his own, smiling silently to himself as he cracks another egg into the pan with a sssh as the whites hit the hot steel.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #bully!eddie munson #eddie's angelface #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #willowsgrl #anons

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cosmicwhoresimpingismyliving · 26 days

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Was honestly surprised and fully expecting my clumsy sim to be the first one to die not fucking Elliott😂😭

#poor Elliott #sims 4 death #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 #the sims 4 #stardew valley #stardew valley sims #sims 4 community #the sims 4 community #stardew valley community #stardew valley elliott #sdv elliott #sdv shane #shane stardew #shane stardew valley #stardew shane #stardew valley shane #shane sdv #shane x farmer

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stardewstardropthoughts · 1 year

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Ahh just two things, I love your blog so much :)! I’d love to see what you think the bachelor's parenting styles would be like? And also you’ve been spelling Elliott's name wrong D:

Oh god I keep forgetting the second t in his name don’t I 😂😅 entirely my bad I gotta get better at checking my spelling lol I kept having to go back and respell Haley’s name for a bit too 😂 I’ll go fix that lmao, also thank you!! I enjoy writing these little blurbs and stuff, and interacting with y’all! Also reading tags y’all leave on reblogs gives me so much joy cause some are so funny, most of it’s written at like five am cause sleep evades me lol

Alright! Parenting styles!

Elliott: he strikes me as a very gentle parent, he doesn’t like to give timeouts unless absolutely necessary since he always feels bad, especially if your kids only a toddler still since Theyer only learning right from wrong and it’s all brand new, he would love to read with your kid and colour pictures with them, he definitely loves doing bedtime with them because thats when the most stories are read! Also loves taking them to the beach to play in the sand or swim for a bit

Harvey: I don’t think he really knows what he’s doing to well, honestly it’s all a learning curve for him but with doing comes learning and he sure can learn, he’ll make healthy meals and a large variety of snacks for your kids and always takes them on walks, he’s the best when it comes to little ouchies and booboos like scraped knees or paper cuts, always has colorful little bandaids on hand for them! Cute little junimo themed ones and woodland creatures, will panic if they break a bone or something serious though, kids can be quite clumsy

Sam: he’s definitely a cool dad, he’s teaching your kids to skateboard and play guitar, feeding them pizza and joja cola. You have to inform him they can’t live off of those things and teach him how to make healthy foods and snacks for the kids but he picks up on it pretty easy, will probably call his mom for advice more then once but she’s always happy to help

Sebastian: he’s not entirely clueless in the baby department since he was around when maru was a baby, he likes to play games with them, teaches them how to play video games when They’re older so he can have a player two, also gets them into solarian chronicles, he’s the ultimate cool dad, will buy your kid a sword (probably a few honestly, it’s a collection they have together now) won’t however let your kids in the mines because he’s heard your stories of what’s down there and he doesn’t want them to get hurt

Shane: he’s been around jas a lot, he’s definitely applying whatever skills he’s gained from that to his own kid, loves to get them new toys. They have a whole Lego chicken coop complete with Lego chickens that they put together as a bonding activity. He does not know how to cook very many things but he will try, he doesn’t want to be seen as useless so he’s definitely putting in the effort! He asks you to teach him how to cook and how to put together cute snack plates (he definitely has those little shape cutouts for veggies so he can make little cucumber flowers and carrot bunny’s for your kids).

Alex: definitely an active parent, literally. Loves taking the kids on jogs and walks through town, will 100% use your toddler as a weight while he’s doing squats, just holds them on his shoulders the whole time, they think it’s hilarious and he gets in a workout, it’s a win win. If your kid wants to help him make breakfast he’s thrilled, tells them all about the nutrition and how it helps with the farm work and keeps your muscles fed and happy, of course he doesn’t deny the kid of sweets either, it’s all about balance,

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew headcanon #stardew marriage #stardew elliott #stardew harvey #stardew sam #stardew sebastian #stardew shane #stardew alex

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acircusfullofdemons · 1 year

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CHARACTER FLAW TAG GAME

I found this and thought it might be fun. Unfortunately, I don't know who started/made it. But anyway, all you have to do is bold whatever "flaws" apply to your para(s)!

CALYPSO

ELLIOTT

JANE

JORDAN

ROWAN

TOBY

TAGGING: @paraesthetics @sugarcoatedsadism @ohnoesmytacos @fallingmaddlyinlove @fourhearts-paracosm @daydreaming-memories @daydream-ideas

#paraportal #maladaptive daydreaming #immersive daydreaming #madd paras #tag meme #tag games #actuallymadd #luka.txt #console: phantasmagoria #game: im not the one #society of the false moon #calypso raymond #elliott hart #jane bellerose #jordan stark #rowan dellacroy #toby reynolds #doing my part in trying to keep the madd community from being totally dead af lol #character flaw tag game

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cowplant-snacks · 10 months

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Skylar Hammond (he/him): Gen 0

Occupation - Conservationist, Conservation Director

Traits - Clumsy, Adventurous, Loves Outdoors

Bonus Traits - Family-Oriented, Out-going

Weaknesses -Dancing, Music

Aspiration - Seasoned Traveler

Languages - Simlish, some Toki Sulani

Hobbies - Rock climbing, Cooking, Gardening, Hiking and Camping

Favorite band - Best Coast

Favorite movie - Jaws

Favorite pizza - Pepperoni

Sexuality/gender - Cis male, Gay, Out

August McDaniel (he/him):

Occupation - Conservationist, Nature Historian

Traits - Socially Awkward, Green fiend, Bookworm

Bonus Traits - Cheerful

Weaknesses - Handiness

Aspiration - Renaissance Sim

Languages - Simlish, some Toki Sulani

Hobbies - Reading, jogging with Canyon, baking, rock climbing, Hiking, and Camping

Favorite band - Weezer

Favorite book - Leaves of Grass

Favorite pizza - Sweetcorn

Sexuality/gender - Cis male, Gay, Out, Demiromantic

Elliott McDaniel-Hammond (he/him): Gen 1

Traits - Sensitive, Picky eater, Free-air tinkler, Feeding tinkler

Hobbies - Peeing all the time (see above) and messing with Kipper

Languages - Simlish, some Toki Sulani

Everly McDaniel-Hammond (she/her): Gen 1

Traits - Intense, Good Appetite, Gassy, Happy Spitter

Hobbies - Snacking, spitting, and having strong reactions to everything.

Languages - Simlish, some Toki Sulani

FAQ

Where is August's Family From? They’re from Evergreen Harbor. His parents still live there. His ancestors came over from Tartosa.

Where is Skylar’s Family From? They’re from Evergreen Harbor as well but originally they came over from Windenburg and Henford-on-Bagley. His family moved to Sulani for his father’s International Relations career.

How did August and Skylar Meet? They met at new employee orientation at the Mua Pel'am Conservation Guild. August invited Skylar swimming after work one day and there was an awkward but captivating electricity between them. They are each others first for everything intimate.

*Not pictured - Kipper the kitty cat. You can see her being a menace here.

#ts4 #simblr #the hammond extras #gen 0 #gen 1

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stardewremixed · 2 years

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How would the Stardudes get injured (and how would they be)

Alex ‐ gridball with Granny. He's been teaching her how to throw the perfect spiral. She wants a way to connect with her grandson. Yes, he would go long and catch the ball, but injure his ribs when colliding with the ground. At least it was sand. They played at the beach and Evelyn brought sandwiches and chips and a checkered picnic blanket. Alex lies on the blanket, holding his side, staring up at the seagulls pass by, pretending it doesn't really hurt that bad.

Harvey is a little clumsy. Tripping out the door over his size 13 loafers. Yes, the man has big feet. He would curse in Yiddish (my headcanon is Harvey is Jewish), under his breath. All day long he keeps bumping his injured toe. Side stepping to avoid Maru in the narrow hallways. Accidentally rolling into the lower cabinet when he turns away from a patient on his swivel chair. He's too proud (and embarrassed) to admit he is such a klutz. In the evening, Harvey skips the post-work walk and head straight for the tub to soak with some Epsom salts.

Elliott gets his hair caught while trying to fix his leaky roof. Nooooo! Not the hair. CURSES! Elliott is a bit of a drama queen. Instead of rationally and gently releasing his hair from the metal paneling, he yanks and tweaks his neck. He's convinced he's dying, and tells Harvey that his pain is eleven on scale of 1 to 10. He plans to rub some special guava scented conditioner into his locks once his neck pain subsides. In the meantime, he's a pretty big baby, whining about how uncomfortable he is, and accepting lots of pampering... until Leah knocks some sense into him. She stays for takeout dinner to make sure Elliott doesn't finish a whole bottle of wine by himself.

Sam... did you see that last trick he did? Super rad. But ouch! Did he land on his ankle yet again? Yes, yes, he did. Being the responsible guy he is, he would hobble to work on crutches. To show his mom that he’s not an invalid and he’s not completely useless. Would have Claire push him around in one of those wheelchair carts. Would race with Shane, because Shane’s bored. Would piss Morris off. Would get sent home early. Instead of heading home straight away, he would hobble down to the beach, toss some rocks into the water, sit in the sand, contemplate his life in the Valley. It’s not good when this dude gets stuck in his head, but he bounces back pretty quick.

Shane more grumpy than usual. Grumbling about everything and anything, muttering under his breath. A customer ran over his foot with a cart and no apology, flipping him off in the JojaMart parking lot. Well, screw you too, he would say. Then he took a tumble off a ladder stocking shelves. Doesn’t want to file a workman’s comp report. Morris will just lecture him. Instead, he toughs it out. Bruised foot. Bruised ribs. Black eye. He might grab a steak from the freezer and call them even.

Sebastian decided to wander into the mines. Call it boredom. Call it curiosity. Call it whatever. It’s just a private place for him to use his bong without the prying eyes of Maru, lectures of his stepdad, and disapproving yells of his mom. He didn’t realize that actual monsters roamed these underground caves. After fighting off a hoard of what appeared to be slimes very much interested in sucking him dry, he hobbles to a moss-covered log, nursing his wounds quietly in the forest. The rain feels good against his torn cheek. A little frog hops over and appears to be smirking at him as if to say, “What an idiot!” He passes out from the pain... the high... does it matter?

#stardew valley thoughts #sdv headcanon #stardew valley headcanon #stardew valley #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #sdv sam #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv evelyn #sve claire #sdv leah #sdv maru

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lady-jane-asher · 5 months

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I am so LOVING these new scans that the wonderful Harold sends me on twitter. God forever bless him. They make my day!!

Daily Sketch, november 15th 1966. All these pictures are the scans sent to me by him. Sadly because of the low quality I couldn’t enhance them!

A New sound for Beatle Paul?

Paul McCartney obviously shares the current pop trend for " way out" instruments. Sitting in a corner of a harp repairer’s shop in Kensington yesterday was a lute-cum-harp-cum-guitar.

" A clumsy instrument someone has made," said one of only two men in England able to repair harps, shop owner Mr. John Sebastian Morley.

Attached to the instrument was a label. It simply said, "Paul McCartney, c/o Miss Elliott, 57, Wim-pole-street." The address belongs to Dr. Richard Asher, none other than actress Jane Asher's father.

#jane asher #the beatles #beatles girls #actress #lady jane asher #60s #something about jane asher #model #beatles women #1966 #newspaper #redhead #red hair #explore

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unabashegirl · 2 years

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Enticing 12 (HS)

Author's note: Hi? I am sort of back?! IT'S BEEN HARD! I mean keeping a balance between medical school and writing and the other aspects of my personal life. This chapter is relatively short compared to the others. I wanted to keep it short. Since mostly of it was already written. I also wanted to post something for you. I hope you enjoy. I'll begin writing right away! Let me know what you think! Stay safe and heathy.

TAGS: @cuddlingwithharry, @virgorry, @hazzafics, @illicithallways, @westcoastrry, @jackiehollanderr, @vaseoftulips, @laurynne5, @sabstyles, @harrystyle-ish, @stressisakiller, @tpwkhoney, @savannah-elliott, @ericadrumgoole1, @chubbybunnybenny, @eldahae, @nanskidoodle, @fallingforharry-1, @odetostep, @mellowfellowyellow,@harrysxoxoxo, @sunflwrsjustdied, @lilostif16, @laurasophiiiieee, @michellekstyles, @hsfics, @spaaceprincessss, @bhumee, @mellamolayla, @vornilla, @cherriesrae, @afterglowstyles, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @kennedywxlsh

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!

He felt sick to his stomach. He dreaded having her in his presence. He wasn’t scared of her, either. Harry just genuinely didn’t like her one bit. It also pissed him off that his day had been ruined by seeing her. Harry tried his best to revisit the nice, fresh memories that he had of this afternoon with Y/N. Like when her clumsy self had poured wine all over her white shirt and Harry offered his blazer, so she was able to cover the spot.

“Quite a place you got here” She spoke, her eyes scanning the picture frames that Harry had on his desk. He mentally kicked himself for not removing them before she arrived. “Is this her? Your new toy”.

It was a picture of Y/N from their very first night out. Her back was away from the camera, only exhibiting her bare back.

“S’definitely none of your business” he responded coldly, choosing to ignore the ‘toy’ part of her comment in hopes of keeping things calm, so he could go home. “Wha’ is it that you want, Ashley?”

She shrugged and continued her exploration of the room.

“Come on. I am sure you got things and place to be and so do I” Y/N and Oliver were waiting for him to come home. His girlfriend had expressed her desire to cuddle with him to watch a movie after he got home from work. Something he was looking forward to. “Therefore, let’s get this over with”.

“Is it because Y/N is waiting for you home, Harry?” She cocked her head from where she stood. “Quite lovely face and body she has. I see why you find her attractive”. Harry inhaled a sharp breath, surprised that she knew her name and that she could recognize her.

“Don’t make this more difficult. How much do you want? Is that what you want? Ran out of it? Don’t have enough to keep buying drugs and alcohol?” He hated that she had brought Y/N to the conversation. It pissed him off. She had nothing to do with it. “Let me write you a check”.

“Don’t you fucking patronize me!” She yelled, banging her hands on his wooden desk.

Harry barely even flinched. He had struck a nerve, and he enjoyed the satisfaction that spread through him.

“I am wrong, then? You are here fo’ what? Jus’ to say hello?” He laughed bitterly. “I want to know why the fuck did you break into my house!”

“Broke into your house? I would never, Hazz” The nickname made him cringe. It brought him memories of the night that they had conceived Oliver. “Not when little Oliver is there anyway”

“Don’t talk about him. Don’t even say his name” He snapped, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I find it very interesting that your ex-girlfriend was the one to reach out to me to let me know who was raising my son” Ashley revealed as she sat down. “And how you were head over heels and allowed her to do anything regarding him”.

“I think you are a bit confused, darling” Harry leaned back on his chair and crossed his legs. “Oliver isn’t your son. He stopped being yours when you signed away all your rights for some money. Don’t you remember? You wanted an abortion?”

Ashley remained quiet, not knowing what to say or do.

“Now we got that out of that way. Tell me what is that you want?”

“Leave Y/N. Break up with her” It was Harry’s turn to laugh heavily.

“You are ridiculous. I don’t even know why I ever agreed to meet up with you” Harry pushed himself away from the desk, ready to go home to his girlfriend and son.

“This isn’t a game, Styles. Break up with her before things get worst. Yo—”

“Are you threatening me? I would choose wisely your next words, Ashley. I don’t do well with threats” He cut her off, edging closer to her. “I suggest you crawl back in the hole you came back from before I make sure you end up behind bars”.

Ashley chuckled, rising to her feet, realizing that this conversation wasn’t going to take them anywhere. She needed to make sure that Harry and Y/N broke up for Valeria to pay her. Ashley was willing to go great lengths to get that money promised.

Y/N had gone to be a bit earlier than usual after cuddling Oliver to sleep in the downstairs living room. She had tried her best to wait up for Harry, but her exhaustion had gotten the best of her. She went upstairs after making sure that the lights of the foyer were on for Harry, so he wouldn’t bump into anything.

Y/N laid on her side with her hands up to her face when she felt the mattress dip and the blankets lifted. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know who it was. Harry tangled their legs and slipped his arm around her, gently tucking her warm body into his chest.

“Hi” her voice heavy with sleep as she reached down to his hand under the sheets.

“Shhh” he shushed her, feeling guilty to have woken her up. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you” He kissed the back of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

It was late. It was 3AM. Harry had stayed in the office after he had kicked Ashley out of the office. He submerged himself in work and whiskey. As the events and the conversations that had taken place kept hunting his head.

Harry hadn't forgotten Ashley’s threat. He couldn’t understand the extent of Valeria’s fascination with him. She had dug deep enough into his past that she had found Oliver’s biological mother. Just so he could separate him from Y/N.

“Harry?” Y/N’s soft voice, brought him back into reality.

“Yes, lovie?” His voice cracked as he felt stressed for the safety of the people around him. He had never feared as much before. He heard her shuffle and turn to face him. Then felt her forehead against his.

“What’s bothering you?” She whispered as she pressed a hand against his cheek. “Tell me. Maybe I can help you” Harry’s heart warmed as he enjoyed the gentleness of her touch.

“Nothing. Just a bit stressed about work” Y/N remained silent yet continued caressing the back of his head. “What do you think about moving?”.

“Why would we do that?” His heart warmed, loving how she used ‘we’ instead of saying something silly like ‘it’s your house’ or ‘it’s your money’. For Harry meant that she saw a future for them.

“I just don’t feel safe anymore” He had to get them as safe as possible. The house security had been breach — God knows how many times. He wasn’t going to take any more chances. “I’m also starting to hate the decoration”. Harry added, not wanting to worry her.

“I guess the change in scenery would be nice. But don’t you think you are taking on too much?” The Italy trip was just a few days ago and Harry seemed swamp with work.

“That’s why I got people to do the work for me” He was finally starting to loosen up. The idea of them moving to a new place where Ashley or Valeria couldn’t find them — relaxed him. “You wouldn’t have to move a finger”.

“Very cocky” She laughed, “I can help. At least let me pack my stuff and Oliver’s”

“Absolutely not”

“Why? I can carry my own weight, and I am strong”. She felt useless at times, but Y/N knew that it was her own insecurities speaking for her. That same thought made her want to accept the job offer.

“It's not because I think you are weak, darlin.” In fact, he thought the complete opposite. Harry thought very highly of her, not just because of her academics, but for every single little thing that composed her personality.

“Then? Enlighten me”.

“You are just… clumsy” She gasped yet giggled at his accusations.

“That’s not true!”

“It is! I’ve seen you bang your toe almost every single day since you moved in, against the glass coffee table” Harry found it cute how she would wince and hold her breath. Y/N would always deny feeling any kind of pain when he would ask. She would put her brave face and tried her best not wince. “You can’t fool me”.

“That’s irrelevant. That doesn’t make me clumsy”.

“It’s not just that”

“Why is this suddenly a problem?!” Harry laughed, “What else have I done?”

“The amount of bruises that I find on yourself daily, doesn’t give you the slightest clue?” They both giggled and laughed. “You don’t even remember how you even got them!”

“Okay that’s it!” Y/N’s cold hands creeped up under the back of his shirt, causing Harry to instantly hiss at the sensation. “You were saying?”

“Rude” He groaned, his hands squeezing her sides. “Don’t ever change” Harry whispered to her in the darkness. “I like your clumsiness” She listened him say as they both drifted to sleep.

Frank Sinatra played though the apartment whilst Y/N swayed Oliver through the rhythm of the music. It was an early Thursday afternoon at the household. Mrs. Johnson was in the kitchen, preparing a delicious dinner by the scent that lingered in the air.

They had invited Y/N’s best friend over for dinner.

Harry still hadn’t arrived from the office.

“Would you like some wine?” Mrs. Johnson offered, as the song came to an end and another began. Patrick had arrived ten songs ago. She tried her best not to worry. It was New York City known for its hectic traffic. Although, Harry Styles wasn’t the type of man to be late.

“Please!” Patrick knew that she was nervous. Every single sound caused her to redirect her attention to the elevator doors. He loved Y/N. Patrick had no intention of making her feel embarrassed. He just hoped that Harry arrived.

“Red or white?”

“Red” Mrs. Johnson smiled before going to fetch two glasses. “She is lovely” Patrick added as Y/N finally settled down on one of the couches.

“I know. She is also sweet” Y/N tried to smile but failed.

“Oh honey! Perhaps, he forgot?” Patrick could understand that. He was a remarkably busy man.

“Harry has assistants, Patrick. They remind him of everything” She looked down at Oliver and could see him starting to doze off.

“Well! They forgot to write it down and remind him. It doesn’t matter, honey. I am simply happy to see you!” Sure — he had been excited to meet the man that had swooped the heart of his best friend, but having dinner only with her wasn’t the worth either. He barely got to see her, and let’s not forget about the beauty of the apartment and the promise of exquisite food.

“I love you” Y/N said, pressing her lips against Oliver’s head. “I’ll put him down and then you can tell me all about your latest conquests”

“You got it” Patrick chuckled.

—

Chapter 13

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the-offside-rule · 5 months

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Harvey Elliott (Liverpool) - Break A Leg

Day 23 of Christmas

Twas the snowy Christmas day when Liverpool's young star, Harvey Elliott, found himself in an unexpected predicament. The echo of carols resonated through the hospital halls as he hobbled in on crutches, a result of a clumsy fall down the stairs in the morning. One of his nurses Y/n was around his age and still only a student doing a placement to fill up experience hours so she would pop into the to check up on her patient. Harvey sat on a chair scrolling through the Liverpool WhatsApp group where he was getting the slagging of the century. That was until his nurse card his name and asked him to follow her as best he could to be examined. Nurse Y/n, with a compassionate smile, guided him to the examination room. "Looks like you've got quite the holiday tale to tell," she remarked as she assessed his injury.

Harvey winced, but his charm remained intact. "Well, breaking a leg is one way to make Christmas memorable." Harvey smiled. "In a way, I suppose." She mustn't have been in a joking mood. He supposed he wouldn't want to have to work on Christmas Day either. "Are you off early today?" Harvey asked. "Pardon."

"Are you working all day or are you off for a few hours. Its Christmas." Y/n shrugged her shoulders. "Not as far as I'm aware. I'm hoping it's quiet enough so I can go home but I doubt it." Harvey sucked in his lower lip as she touched a tender area of his leg. "Sorry to hear that. Hopefully your mum keeps you some dinner." He says, half joking. Y/n smiled and looks up to the man. "I hope so too. She cooks good turkey, you know."

As Y/n tended to his injury, they exchanged jokes and random stories from their past Christmases as Harvey's flirtatious remarks met with Y/n's attempts to maintain a professional demeanor. But despite herself, she couldn't help but giggle at his jokes. In the midst of bandages and laughter, Harvey felt a strange connection. "You know, Y/n, there's something about the way you handle broken bones that makes me think we're meant to be." Y/n chuckled. "I think that's just the pain medication talking."

As dinnertime in the hospital had approached, Harvey, still confined to the hospital, he was offered some food to which he accepted. Whilst he sat eating the horrible hospital food, Y/n had come back with his x-rays and eager to get on her lunch break. "So what's the verdict?" Harvey asked. Y/n quickly explained the issue and how he should be okay to go home and rest once his cast was properly fitted. Harvey, ever the optimist decided this was the perfect chance to ask her to simply sit and join him for Christmas dinner. "How about you join me for dinner? It might be hospital food, but I promise the company will be top-notch."

Y/n hesitated, torn between professionalism and the festive spirit. "I'm not sure that's appropriate." She replied. "But it's Christmas!" Harvey pleaded with puppy-dog eyes. "And who would pass up the chance to have dinner with a guy who broke his leg for a good story?" Y/n rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Fine, but only because I'm curious about how someone manages to break a leg on Christmas day."

As they shared a modest hospital Christmas dinner, the two found themselves immersed in meaningful conversations. Harvey, spoke of his life and how much it has changed since he had been called up to the main squad. "I refuse to believe you used to have that haircut." Y/n chuckled as Harvey put his phone away. "Trust me, I wish I didn't sometimes." He replied. "But what about you? Haven't really heard much from you." Y/n put her tray to the side. "What do you want to know?" She asked. Harvey shrugged. "Well, how did you get into this? Must be some serious pressure."

"I don't know how to explain the pressure, the constant exams, and the sleepless nights. It's like I'm drowning in textbooks, and Christmas just feels like another deadline." She explained as best she could. Harvey, perceptive as ever, listened intently, concern etched on his face. "You don't have to carry it all alone. I've heard medical related stuff is tough, but you're tougher than I am. I would've quit by now." He said. "What? The Harvey Elliott would've quit?"

"Just better at football." Harvey replied. "Mmh, I'd debate that." Harvey laughed. He'd managed to break down her walls and make her laugh with him. "That's hilarious."

When the time came, Y/n helped put on Harvey's cast and sorted out all the paperwork for him to go home and enjoy the few hours he had left from Christmas. "I can help you out to your car if you want." Y/n offered. Harvey accepted and off the pair went, slowly as Harvey got used to his new set of crutches and heavy cast. "So what's the plan for after Christmas?" Harvey asked. "Probably back to uni. Yourself?" She replied. "Probably not football." He mumbled, earning a small laugh from Y/n. "No, but you've a team of professionals there to help you at your very command." He nodded in agreement. "Just this car here that's pulling up." Hafvey said, pointing out the black jeep his mother had driven right up to the hospital entrance. "Perfect. Well, I'll see you around, Harvey." Y/n smiled. "Just, one more thing." Harvey said as Y/n went to leave. "You're not defined by grades or deadlines. You should just take a break and relax. Maybe even go have a coffee or something. Anything away from this." Y/n smiled softly and thanked him, before the pair had separated and figured they wouldn't see eachother again.

A year had passed since then and Harvey had been back in Anfield. During this particular match, he had scored a cracker of a goal and ran to the kop to celebrate. As his teammates jumped around and atop of him his eyes darted around the stand, watching the passionate roars of the fans, but one in the very front caught his attention; his wonderful student nurse that had helped him just the year before. His breath hitched as he spotted her, waving. He help his hand up to his ear and signified for her to call him, making her laugh. Well since he was no longer her patient, what's the harm? She could maybe even come to his Christmas dinner this year...and maybe next year too.

#football #football imagines #football blurbs #harvey elliott oneshot #harvey elliott x y/n #harvey elliott blurb #harvey elliott imagine #harvey elliott #christmas imagine #christmas fanfic #christmas fic

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its-ares · 2 years

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— welcome to my masterlist—

Last updated: april 02, 2024

“There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly: sometimes it’s like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

MARVEL

• Daredevil

001. Finally home

002. Love me, Betray me

• Moon Knight

001. Two hopeless idiots // Steven Grant

002. Headache // Steven Grant

003. I‘ll love you forever // Marc Spector

004. I want you so bad // Marc Spector

• Avengers

001. Broken Hearts Part 1 // Steve Rogers

002. A broken heart is followed by a tender love Part 2 // Bucky Barnes

003. Being Peter‘s s/o would include // Peter Parker

004. Sick // Peter Parker

005. First time // Peter Parker

──────────

• Titans

001. Unrequited love is the worst // Jason Todd

002. Heartaches Continuum // Part II of Unrequited love is the worst

──────────

STRANGER THINGS

• Steve Harrington

001. Boyfriend Headcanons

002. Roommates

003. Heated Rivalry

• Eddie Munson

001. Being Eddie Munson‘s s/o would include

──────────

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

• Kai Parker

001. Echoes of Longing

──────────

THE ORIGINALS

• Kol Mikaelson

──────────

HANNIBAL

• Will Graham

001. Being Will Graham‘s s/o would include

──────────

CALL OF DUTY

• 141 + Los Vaqueros

001. Incorrect Quotes

002. Shy Male Reader Headcanons

• Simon "Ghost" Riley

001. Good boy

──────────

ALL FOR THE GAME TRILOGY

──────────

CELEBRITIES

— Alain Mesa

001. Instagram

— Andrew Garfield

001. Emmy Date // Male Reader

002. Headcanons SFW & NSFW // Male Reader

— Barry Paul Sloane

001. Instagram // Coming soon

— Callum Turner

001. We‘ll go away // Male Reader

002. Blondie // Male Reader

— Charlie Cox

001. Sorry I made you feel like I didn‘t love you // Male Reader

002. Stressed in the morning // Male Reader

003. Your Mine // Male Reader

— Chris Evans

001. Clumsy // Male Reader

002. One Shot // Male Reader

— Elliott Knight

001. Instagram

— Jon Bernthal

001. Coming clean // Male Reader

002. Tender love in early mornings // Male Reader

— Joe Keery

001. Outing at the Bottlerock Festival // Male Reader

002. Headcanons for being Joe Keery‘s boyfriend // Male Reader

#masterlist #marvel x male reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #moon knight #steven grant x male reader #marc spector x male reader #jake lockley x male reader #celebrities #stranger things x male reader #steve harrington x male reader #james bond #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod x male reader #john wick x male reader #andrew minyard x male reader #neil josten x male reader

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gingerbreadmonsters · 2 years

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motion capture

or: I’M THE ONLY FRIEND THAT MAKES YOU CRY.

gn!reader, lots and lots of weird brain stuff, unsettling psychological angst. a world in which scorpius wasn’t as kind as he could have been. or maybe he just wasn’t very good at his job. who knows? i am eternally grateful to the literal VILLAGE that it took to raise this fic: frenchie @frenchiefitzhere for letting me scream in her dms about shower supplies, lyric @krysial for giving us The Locket, and god of creativity saya @haradasaya who spent literally 20 minutes on vc on a sunday listening to me lose my mind - lots and lots of love to all of you!! inspired by my favourite fic in the whole world, @solclaw ‘s bring me a dream, and doctor who s6e13 the wedding of river song. big big warnings for the following: amnesia, paranoia, anxiety, loss of reality, feeling out of control, feeling unsafe in one’s own mind. reader discretion is advised. did you check behind the sofa? elliott searching for the one that got away for 4200 words or less.

I feel like this is the beginning,

Though I’ve loved you for a million years,

And if I thought our love was ending,

I’d find m-

“Shut up, shut up, ‘m awake!”

A clumsy hand fumbles with the phone sitting on the bedside table, groggily tapping at the screen until the music stops. The air is still and uncomfortably warm, and the room is dark behind the blackout curtains. The mattress creaks, springs protesting as the bed’s occupant makes to leave, navy blue cotton crinkling and creasing as the duvet is pushed aside.

“Goddamn song.”

He sits up, legs swinging over the side of the bed, and waits for the vertigo to clear. The floor is cold under his feet as he pads over to the desk, toeing on the pair of slippers under the chair. They’re old, and a little too small, but it’s never occurred to him to get rid of them. It doesn’t now. He doesn’t make the bed when he gets up.

(Only one side of the bed is disturbed. This is nothing new. For some reason, he can never bring himself to sleep on the left.)

The closet door is closed, and the handle knocks against the wall on his right as he pulls it open. He doesn’t really pay attention to what he’s changing into, but his reflection looks familiar, so it’s fine. His socks, hidden as he slots his feet back into the slippers, are patterned with little stars.

He reaches for the deodorant on the desk, and blinks when he picks it up and sees the hairbrush in his hand. Of course. He keeps his deodorant in the bathroom, like always. Yes, obviously. That’s where it should go. He puts the hairbrush back down, and something in the back of his mind is relieved that he’s remembered.

(The left hand door of the closet stays closed. He doesn’t think to open it.)

He’s hungry. Or maybe thirsty? They feel the same. It’s time for breakfast. The curtains stay closed, and the bed stays unmade. He grabs his phone from where it’s balanced on the edge of the bedside table and shoves it in his pocket. It feels like somebody should be talking. He’s already forgotten about the song.

Elliott, alone, heads out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

(Of course he’s alone. Nobody else lives here.)

The kitchen isn't very big, barely more than a kitchenette, really. The tap leaks, and the cabinets don’t close properly, and the fridge door smacks against the windowsill if you open it too far, but it’s functional. It’s enough. He doesn’t spend much time in here anyway. Luckily, the window doesn’t face the sun in the mornings, so it’s pleasantly dim as he gets started.

The kettle rattles on its stand as it boils, a faint plume of steam drifting towards the ceiling while he gets his breakfast together. A mug from the cupboard, a teabag from the box, the box of cereal from the shelf. Nothing too complicated. There are things that need to be done today. Which drawer has the cutlery in again? He sets the blue mug next to the purple one on the counter, so that he can choose which one to drink out of.

(He chooses the purple one every time, but he always gets the blue one out as well. Just in case he feels like using it. It doesn’t feel right to leave it behind in the cupboard.)

He puts the box of cereal on the table and goes to sit down, but has to turn around when he realises he needs a bowl. Of course he does. Left hand cupboard, above the plates. He forgot yesterday, as well. Does he have a spoon? Yes, from the cutlery drawer. Of course he does. Obviously. He just got it out. He shakes his head a little, brushing off the doubt, and heads over to the table to set down the cereal bowl.

The water finishes boiling, so he goes to make the tea. Tea is a very good drink to have in the mornings. A comforting routine. Muscle memory. He drops the teabag into the mug (purple, always the purple one) and reaches for the kettle. The plastic handle is warm, and the sloshing water inside is very heavy. God, there’s a lot in here. How much tea was he going to make?

One for me, and one for you.

It’s a waste of electricity, boiling too much water. He’ll have to try and remember not to fill it up so much next time. Force of habit. No, it’s not. Why would that be a habit? There’s a noise coming from the other room. A phone ringing. No, the kettle, whistling. No, a person, whistling. It’s here. No, it’s outside. No, it’s behind you. Is it coming from the left or the right? Don’t think about it. It’s all in your head. His wrist aches. Left hand cupboard, above the plates. God, there’s a lot in here. Muscle memory. How much tea was he going to make?

Pass me the sugar?

All of a sudden, the kitchen feels very big. Too big. Vertigo. There's no footsteps down the corridor, no warmth at his back, no sleepy words mumbled into his shoulder. Nobody sidesteps out of the way when he opens the cupboard door to get the clingfilm out. Nobody wraps their arms around his waist and complains when he has to move, it’s going to boil over. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. What’s wrong? Pressure, mounting pressure, something growing in his skull, ears popping, something crawling under his skin - there’s nobody, anywhere, and he’s totally alone, and there’s footsteps in the corridor, and it’s not right, it’s not right, there’s something horribly, horribly wrong-

The sudden rush of blood, and when he opens his eyes he's gripping the edge of the counter for dear life. The cup of tea in front of him has lots of milk and a little bit of sugar.

How strange.

It must be a trick of the light. Never mind the fact that the kitchen is in shadow, and the kettle is half empty, and the milk carton is half full.

(The mug is blue. Elliott is lactose intolerant.)

Never mind. It happens to the best of us. He pointedly ignores the blue mug, hurriedly chucking a new teabag into the purple mug and filling it with the rest of the hot water before escaping back to the safety of the kitchen table. Sitting down, with his bowl of dry cereal and his scorching cup of tea, it’s time to get to work. Early to bed, early to rise, or something like that.

(He realises, after burning his tongue, that he forgot to pick up the notebook from his desk. It takes a good five minutes to work up the energy to get up and grab it, and he’s rewarded with a bruise on his hip where he accidentally walks into the corner of the table. Not his fault that his slippers tend to slide on the tile in here.)

Well, he says work. He doesn’t really go to work anymore. He’d tried, but when he’d called, they’d said he’s been assigned to a very important client who wished to remain anonymous in their system, and he should call some particular number if he needed anything. Typing it in, he’d seen that the number had a Dahlia area code, but the guy who answered hadn’t been very helpful. Apparently, he’s being subcontracted as part of a larger project for this client, and he’ll be told when he’s needed - until then, the money comes into his account at the start of every month, and he gets the sudden and overwhelming feeling that he doesn’t need to think too much about it.

It’s that feeling that’s the problem.

He hadn’t really noticed, for the first few weeks. Every now and then, it would come out of nowhere, rattling around in the back of his mind - I’m forgetting something. Something’s missing. Something’s wrong - but it would disappear just as quickly. Sometimes it was like clouds gathering overhead, the worries dripping out of his brain until he forgot whatever it was that was troubling him. Sometimes it was like being pushed into a car wash mid-cycle, the restless doubt scrubbed and soaped and powerhosed away until he was almost in tears trying to remember his own name. Waking or dreaming, it’s always the same. As soon as the uneasiness starts to form, as soon as the questions start to take shape, the familiar numbness sets in again.

Luckily (or perhaps unluckily, depending on your point of view), it’s not working like it used to.

As time wore on, he’d begun to notice the weird… floatiness it left behind. That sort of helium feeling of breathing air that’s too light, of opening your mouth and not knowing what’s going to come out. The room would spin just a little, just enough that you might miss it if you weren’t paying attention, and he’d realise that he couldn’t remember what he was thinking about just a few seconds ago.

Perhaps he’s slowly becoming immune to it, or perhaps whatever it is is wearing off. The clouds aren’t so fast to form. The bubbles in his mouth aren’t as difficult to swallow. As long as he keeps the feelings quiet, doesn’t push too hard, the artificial amnesia doesn’t seem to notice anything awry. He can think in peace, at least for a little while.

At first, he’d waved it off as a side effect of too much dreamwalking - his brain having trouble reconciling the realities in his head with the reality around him, and never mind the fact that he’d never heard of this happening to anyone, anywhere, ever. It had been a good explanation while it lasted, but it was a little bit too convenient that whenever he thought about trying to actually find hard evidence for this sort of thing, he’d blink and find himself sitting at his laptop with a skull full of helium and no idea what he’d just been doing. Alarm bells had started to ring, and through some very, very comprehensive note-taking, he’d managed to figure out what was causing it.

…Wait, what was he doing again?

He stares blankly down at the kitchen table, wracking his brain, until it hits him. The sun-faded calendar, sitting on the windowsill, watching him. He sighs, reaching for a pen as he flips his notebook open, and begins a new page.

DAY 88

Nearly three months. Three months of headaches, and walking into tables, and something not quite right. Of nagging doubt, and forced calm, and the horror that comes with both of them. Has it really been that long? The book says yes. The mist says no. Only one of them has never lied to him.

Woke up to that song again. Must remember to change it.

Slowly but surely, his whole day fills the page - the socks he’s wearing, the music on the radio, the way he knocks his glass of water off the coffee table by accident and has to mop it up with a tea towel from the drawer. Wherever he goes, the notebook goes. It’s a bit of a chore, sometimes, but he swears this little book is the only thing keeping him sane. Every minute of the day, every single thing he does, in the same black ink from morning to night. Never pencil, never typed, never something that can be changed. He writes and reads and writes and re-reads all day long, searching for the gaps. No discrepancies can be allowed.

Filled the kettle up with too much water for just one cup, but it felt right. Don’t remember actually making tea. The blue mug has milk and sugar. Did something happen?

Discrepancies mean that something has happened. The gaps in his memory aren’t good, for obvious reasons, but they’re helpful. There’s something going on, something hidden in his head, that somebody doesn’t want him to see. That somebody has done their best to make sure he never sees. Unfortunately for them, Elliott isn’t one to take it lying down, and while whoever’s behind this might be good, they’re not that good. Maybe they were in a hurry, or maybe just careless with what they left behind - either way, the breadcrumb trail is there and Elliott intends to follow.

He’s still allowed to have some memories, and that was their first mistake. They should really have just turned him into a vegetable and left it at that. It means that if he notices that he’s missing a particular chunk of time, or if he suddenly finds himself feeling suspiciously lightheaded, that must mean that whatever he did or saw in that time must be related to whatever’s going on. A lie of omission. The negative space where time should be. All that he has to do is figure out what that was - hence, the notebook.

The feeling doesn’t like to be talked about, you see. Maybe it’s shy? Elliott would call it trigger-happy. He doesn’t write in code, per se, but everything has be detached. Impersonal. That separation between theory and reality - the further away he can make himself sound, the less likely he is to accidentally set off a bout of lightheadedness. It’s easier to call it that. Lightheadedness. It’s a bit of a mouthful, to say persistent involuntary memory adjustment every time.

(Well, he thinks that’s what it is. Unsurprisingly, it’s quite difficult to make sure.)

The little book is full of notes, observations, theories… Anything that might be useful, and a lot of things that might not be. When your own brain is betraying you, it’s not easy to keep track of what you need and what you don’t. Better to have it all, just in case.

And that’s the worst bit, if he’s honest. Trusting himself. Every minute, every hour, having to trust that nothing’s slipped through the cracks, that he hasn’t missed anything. Who knows what bits are missing? Who knows what’s happening when he turns his back? Blink and you’ll miss it, look away and lose it forever. Twenty four hours is a very long time to not think about anything, especially when you only remember half of them. Go on. Prove that the other half ever existed at all.

Most days, the list of observations grows. It stretches all the way back to the beginning, DAY 1, when he’d woken up in an apartment that his body knew but his mind didn’t. Little things, big things, the sorts of things that you might not notice the first time. After all, it’s not like he’s got much else to look at.

Discolouration on wall by front door where paint is not faded by sun and small holes in plaster - looks like key hook was removed. No keys found anywhere, including front door keys and car keys.

He can’t leave. Not for lack of trying. It’s like the far end of the hallway doesn’t exist, like the doors and windows push him away, like the curtains beg him to keep them closed. Why? What’s out there? It’s not like he could even find out. No internet, no SIM card in his phone, no junk mail through the letterbox. Even the grocery delivery - the one he doesn’t order, the one that just shows up every week with exactly the same contents - gets left on the doorstep and abandoned, nobody in sight. What is in sight? There must be a hallway, or some kind of corridor where the other apartments in this block are. Are there other apartments at all? The lightheadedness takes care of that.

Whatever - or whoever - is keeping me here doesn’t want me to know what’s happening outside. Does anybody know I’m here?

There must be someone who knows he’s here. Anyone. He must have friends, family, somewhere - parents or siblings or cousins that might want to know why he’s not spoken to them in months. Was he really that alone? He can’t have been. He must have been. Why else would nobody have come to find him?

What about the other person?

Photos are strangely cropped, as if something was removed. People I used to know? Unusual dual setup in rooms (e.g. bedroom has two bedside tables, two phone chargers, two desks) that seems out of place for just one occupant. Shelves in bedroom and bathroom arranged strangely - strong feeling that placing items on left side is wrong, feels very uncomfortable. Perhaps that used to be the space for someone else? It’s too empty. Can’t help but feel like there’s supposed to be someone else here.

The photos were the first thing.

(Well, the lack of photos.)

There are picture frames everywhere, on almost every wall and shelf and windowsill, but for some reason, most of them are empty. The round marks on the bedroom wall, above the headboard, are a similar story - whatever sticky-tacked photos that used to live there are now long gone. The pictures that remain are few and far between, and seem to just be photos of generic landscapes or tourist attractions - did he take those? All of the places are familiar, he’s definitely been to all of them, but whenever he tries to remember the journey, remember what it felt like to be there… nothing. A total mindblank, too perfectly erased to be a coincidence.

(There are a few pictures of people left, although it doesn’t seem to be on purpose - tucked away inside old photo albums, or abandoned in the bottom of a drawer somewhere. It’s very strange. Why are the faces all blurry? He looks and looks and looks, but it’s like his eyes won’t focus. How strange.)

The day drags on. The dizziness comes and goes, and the page fills with ink. The disc drawer in the DVD player rattles as it spins. Lunch in the late afternoon. The circular water stain on the coffee table is just the right size for his glass. He forgets about the matching one on the opposite side. Where does he keep the Switch games again? Steam chases him out of the shower, and for a minute there could have been heart shapes on the mirror. He turns to look, wet hair dripping on the bathmat, and for a second he can’t focus on his own face. The towel is too soft. Was it always this colour? By the time his hands are dry enough, he can’t remember what he was going to write.

“Ah-!”

Turns out his hands weren’t as dry as he thought. He goes to turn the page, but the pen slips out of his fingers and rolls under the coffee table, the stupid thing. The floor is cold through his sweatpants as he kneels down to grab it, but it’s rolled just slightly too far away - turning his head to the side, he stretches out his arm and-

-and notices something.

There’s something under the sofa. It’s small and shiny, reflecting what little light reaches it, and it doesn’t look like it’s been touched for a while. The pen in his hand is quickly forgotten about as he crawls over, sticking his arm as far under the sofa as he can reach. Fingertips catching on smooth metal, sock feet sticking out. The top of his head brushes against the bottom of the sofa, but it doesn’t matter - he lies there as the little something makes itself known.

It’s… a locket.

That’s strange.

It’s strange, because he’s already wearing it.

He scrabbles clumsily at his chest for the little golden oval, pulling the chain taut around his neck as he squints down at it, then at the one in his other hand. Yes. They’re the same. Oh, here comes the vertigo. The single hinge on the side, the flowers that adorn the front, the tiny heart in the centre. The same locket, in two different hands. This can’t be happening.

Shaking fingers pop open the clasp. His first. As expected, there’s nothing inside, just two empty spaces where photos should be. Should the room be spinning this fast? Letting it dangle from his neck, he goes to open the second one, heart racing. What’s he going to see?

His fingernail slips between the metal, tiny doors opening and-

This can’t be right.

The right hand side is a photo, two people from the waist up. The first person is one he can’t see, blurred features facing the camera, but somehow he knows that they’re smiling, laughing, in the middle of a joke. They must be happy. Why are they happy? It’s kind of claustrophobic, under the sofa like this, but he doesn’t move. There are more important things to think about. The second person is slightly behind them, one arm around their shoulders, leaning over to kiss the top of their head. They don’t come into focus right away, but when they do-

It’s him.

…What?

He rubs his eyes as the world swims in front of him, pressure building in his brain, convinced he must be mistaken, but he’s not. That’s him, his face, right there in front of him. Relaxed and happy and content, peaceful and sated and entirely in love. How? How could it be him? Who’s this other person? Look away. Is this who he’s been missing? In love, in love, in love. He was in love? He must have been. It hurts. Keep looking. Don’t blink. Close your eyes, and go to sleep.

Even for tired eyes, the left hand side is very simple. Three words that change everything.

For my sunshine.

(“For my sunshine”.)

(”Sunshine”.)

(Sunshine.)

“...Sunshine?”

The penny drops. And all of a sudden, for no reason at all, his ears start to ring.

It’s happening again. The dizziness washes over him, gushing and splashing and spilling out of him until the whole floor is water. It’s not important. Fingernails dig into his palm, trying to hold on. The locket, the locket. He has to remember. The space under the sofa gets smaller and smaller, the air gets thinner and thinner. Sunshine. Pressure in his skull, more and more and more, bone creaking and fissuring under the strain. Warmth in his heart, in his mouth, in his mind - he’s trapped under the magnifying glass, and the smell of smoke is undeniable. Sunshine. A house among the trees. His head fills with helium until he feels like he’ll just float away. Don’t think about it. The world twists, and he falls sideways into the sky forever. The earth pulls him down, and gravity pulls him up. Sunshine, sunlight, early mornings in a kitchen full of love. Bright and light and sunspots in his eyes, close them, close them, close them, make it stop, remember you. Don’t let them win. Remember you. His lungs ache. Remember you. R-

“Ow!”

…?

Sorry, he must have got distracted. What was that?

He must have tripped and banged his head on something. That must be why his head hurts. Ah, yes, that’s it. He sits up off the floor, picks up the pen that’s sitting by the leg of the coffee table, and gets back to writing.

Dropped my pen. Must have smacked my head on the coffee table when I picked it up.

(One hand absentmindedly reaches up and snaps the locket around his neck shut, tucking it back into his shirt. Muscle memory. He doesn’t even notice.)

The niggling feeling that he’s missing something. But what? Nothing happened. Maybe he just needs a paracetamol. He takes two, but they don’t help. The feeling doesn’t go away, the ache in the back of his skull that insists there’s something wrong - he stumbles through the rest of the evening until he’s back under his duvet, a room in navy blue, eyes heavy and thoughts as light as air.

He’s forgotten something, he must have. It’s okay. He’ll figure it out. He always does. Trust yourself. Tomorrow is a new day.

Tomorrow, he’ll make a plan. Tomorrow, he’ll put the pieces together. Tomorrow, he’ll find out what he’s missing.

Tomorrow will be different.

(Clumsy fingers, tapping at the screen until the music stops.)

Tomorrow will be different.

(The air is still and uncomfortably warm.)

Tomorrow will be different.

(Navy blue cotton hides a multitude of sins.)

Tomorrow w-

You are the sunshine of my life,

That’s why I’ll always be around,

You are the apple of my eye,