#✦ ⁚ ⁛ i. inbox. / SAY TO DEATH YOU STAND NO CHANCE.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I know your requests are closed so feel free to ignore this but if I don’t type it somewhere I WILL forget it lol. I’ve been re-binge reading your works and just thought of this…

Civilian reader kills someone out of self defense for the first time. And it’s the whole staring at her bloody shaking hands panic attack what have I done fiasco. And her boyfriend or husband helping her through it and dealing with it all (I can see it with Ghost or Price idk)

But yeah feel free to ignore, I know your requests are closed rn

Love your work! You are so talented!

This has been in my inbox for so long, lmao. Sorry for not answering right away - take a few paragraphs w. soft, worried, Simon in compensation.

Warnings for gore, death, blood, panic attack, etc. F!Reader.

Your body shakes violently, blood dripping down like crimson tears from your hands. The overwhelming sense of dread sits with bullet fragment aggression in the delicate make-up of your psyche.

You weren't meant for this.

Not the blood or the terror. Certainly not the body laying out in the hallway.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp out, shuddering as your throat swells in on itself. Your form had slipped down the wall just across from the door not minutes prior, legs weak and heart pounding like a war call. Now all you can do is stare into the vacant eyes of some random burglar—at the knife you'd stuck in his chest when he'd backed you into Simon's office.

It was a miracle that you remembered where your husband's combat blade had been, seen on some off chance when you'd been cleaning. He tries to keep this all separate, you know.

The blood just keeps slipping out of the corpse. It's a pool now, and you don't know how long you'd been huddled like this until the sounds of rampaging feet and hurried yells of your name bounce off your eardrums.

All you can see is the uncleanable amount of red.

Simon had only gone out to the corner store half an hour ago, getting a quick supper so you both could sit in each other's company. You'd been hesitant to watch him leave so soon after getting home, but he'd sworn he'd only be a few minutes.

None of you had thought too much about the local break-ins. After all, Simon was...well, Simon. And he was home.

S-Simon was home.

There's a loud, barked, curse when the body is discovered, stomping feet that make the entire house shake like it was the epicenter of an earthquake. Your husband's form slashes the front of your vision as he kneels in the blood on the floor. Frantic brown eyes behind his balaclava snap from place to place; taking in the familiar handle and blade in nanoseconds. In his left hand he clutches a pistol, white-knuckled.

But you can't even say anything, because you're as still as stone—breathing in concrete as the gravel shreds your vocal cords and trachea. Reality slips in quick streaks of color as Simon's face flashes into the open doorway.

He sees your wide eyes with a mirroring of his own, bone-deep fear striking in his head with a heated pulse.

"Love!" Simon's rushing to you. Your body can't help but startle back, spine shoving into the wall; fingers still saturated and stained.

Inside your chest, your lungs jerk in a strained whimper.

Your husband freezes, one foot ahead with his widened legs as he fights his mind to rush to you and take you into his arms. Simon puts the gun away with little thought to look for more assailants—all that matters is you.

And you looked terrified.

"Hey," hands reach up to this balaclava, slipping the fabric off as he kneels down slowly to one leg. He tosses it to the floor and you try to focus on the strength of his jaw; those scars and pale hairs as your eyes well with tears. A delicate sob builds. "Hey, now. It's just me, alright?"

Simon speaks softly, hands splayed out and a few feet from you. He wishes to hold you tightly but refrains even as his chest tightens at not being able to calm you. The man can't stand that look on your face.

Your fingers curl into shivering fists, "Simon," you cry, finally able to get a solid word out even if it sounds slurred and ragged.

It's all the permission your husband needs.

Simon jerks forward and takes you up into his large arms; the wide encompassing of his palm on the back of your head and the other circling your waist. He angles you away from the body as he glares into it with hatred and vile curses, hissing venom.

When he found the door busted off its hinges, he'd never felt so panicked. Even now as you release a small wail into his neck Simon's heart races, breath coming in short puffs.

"You're alright, Sweetheart. You're alright. I'm right 'ere." You sag into him, grabbing at his leather jacket with nails digging into the brown material. Simon nuzzles his nose into your scalp, muscles tense, "Breathe, it's over."

All you can focus on is Simon's scent, his words. They're the only thing keeping you from oblivion. Eventually, as your husband rocks you back and forth, you can gasp enough air down to push away the black at the sides of your vision.

"That's right," he whispers, gritting his teeth. "Good girl, keep focusin' on me, yeah? You're doin' perfect." Simon doesn't care about the blood or the screams of sirens in the distance.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't care if someone else happens to see his face.

Your husband pulls his head back and shifts his hold to your cheeks, angling your runny and chilled face upwards. He grits his teeth and his eyes bleed with concern; fear.

"...He do anything?" You can only make out half the words as the sounds all huddle together in a ringing tone, but you shake your head in small flinches. Lips find your forehead—heated and firm. Muttered words. "Did so good, Love, I'm so proud of you. S'not your fuckin' fault, you hear?"

Sniffling, you only whimper once more before lips kiss away your tears; thumbs coming up after to swipe at the remnants. Curling over you, this beast—defined so often as ruthless and deadly—shields you from the image of the man you'd killed in self-defense like a demon of smoke and ash. Holding you as if he can make everything else disappear.

After all, you weren't meant for this. You were meant for your soft skin and your loving eyes. Everything else that Simon tied himself to you for—goodness.

"Simon," you gasp again and shove your face into his chest. For the life of you, you can't say anything else. He knows what you mean.

"I'm here," he repeats. Caressing the back of your head, his hand tenses and softens with leaving adreanaline. "Nothin'll happen to you again. It's all gonna be alright."

You believe him.

[queerxqueen]

"I just want to clarify that I’m well informed on the situation that is going on but Byler has only one chance of happening. Meanwhile Palestinians are dying anyway. They have been for years and will continue to die. Since when do y’all care about them and their lives? You started talking about it only when it became trendy.

Fake activists, move on and continue eating expensive food in your comfy house and not giving a fuck about people far away from you dying. That shit happens everyday and if you get involved your psyche will be hurt. Let the politicians deal with this instead of bullying a random actor that didn’t do anything harmful"

browsing through the noah schnapp tag to see what he did now and seeing these words was a literal slap in the face how can someone post this and think theyre a good person???

(When I first read this, I thought you were saying that shit in my inbox and was ready to throw hands, so I was very relieved to see you were just sharing the bullshit from someone else's blog.)

I just searched in the tag and saw this exact post. How fucking horrifying. Instant block. I doubt anyone could reason with this person.

"Palestinians are dying anyway. They have been for years and will continue to die." Can't believe anyone typed this genuinely and without pause. Just say you don't care about Palestinian lives and stop there, you'll get your point across better.

"Since when do y’all care about them and their lives? You started talking about it only when it became trendy." Many people are only just now beginning to really educate themselves on the history of Israel and Palestine. I'm among them - I used to be one of the folks who thought it was too complicated and nuanced to take a stance on. Then I read Palestine: A Socialist Introduction, started reading from news sources and independent journalists outside of mainstream western media, started listening to Palestinian and anti-zionist Jewish voices, and realized how false that was. I take responsibility for not educating myself sooner. But it's actually weird to frame people educating themselves and having empathy for people dying as jumping on a trend.

"Let the politicians deal with this..." Ah, yes, let's leave it to the politicians, who notoriously have our best interests in mind and would never do anything to cause harm. (/sarcasm) "... instead of bullying a random actor that didn’t do anything harmful." If you think sharing violent zionist rhetoric such as "you stand with Israel or you stand with terrorism" or trivializing the deaths of eleven thousand Palestinians with stupid stickers calling zionism sexy, in front of your audience of millions as a celebrity, is "not harmful" then we clearly are not going to agree on anything.

[literaila]

Hey you! <3 I’ve been wanting to send an ask but sending them even in anon gives me anxiety. I’m sorry that I finally got the courage to at possibly the worst moment but Idk when the next time will be.

Idk if it’s just me but that one ending comedy short when Gojo and his students were freaking out about Megumi being seen with a girl, I liked the goofiness of it but mostly hated how they portrayed Satoru as creep. Idk if that was in the manga but whoever green-lit that, wtf 😬 that’s just me. I was just hoping you could rewrite it including reader from TF and however she would react. I can imagine Satoru trying to ruin it but oc is holding him back. Or whatever you can come up with, I’m not creative as you lmao. Sorry if this is too long.

Hoping for a speedy recovery ❤️‍🩹

(PLEASE never fear me and my inbox we are very open and bored constantly. send me a hate anon even!!! i will be inevitably entertained!!)

so i thought about it for… couple hours. and honestly—i can’t see the scenario really playing out if reader were there because she would want to go with megumi wherever he wandered off to… unlike satoru and nobara who are discouraged by the heat

but…

you’re not watching anything, really.

if you’re standing ten feet away from yuji and megumi while they look at some kiosks with ridiculous accessories and good luck charms—the sorts of things that megumi would never buy (you know because anytime satoru picks him out something of the sort you find it in tsumiki’s room a few days later)—then it’s just because you’re browsing.

you are not trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. it’s just that, well, yuji talks a little loud and you’re a naturally curious person.

it’s nothing much.

and you’re definitely not leaning a little bit closer to them every time megumi responds, not trying to hide a grin when you pick up on the conversation that’s going on. you’re shopping. there’s no ulterior motive here.

(but if there were… who could blame you, really? is it so wrong to care about your sons friendship? about the one person he’s acted slightly… reckless towards? your sensible, nonchalant son? the same one who you’ve caught smiling around fives times now?)

still, when satoru sneaks up behind you—resting his head on your shoulder in a split second—you jump a little.

okay. maybe you’ve gotten a bit distracted.

“what are you doing?”

you flinch away from his breath on your ear, your heart picking up almost involuntarily. it’s ridiculous that your body has the urge to shiver, even after a decade of this kind of interruption.

“satoru,” you say, breathing out. you look over to him, where he’s grinning by your side. “i thought you were too exhausted to come.”

“i was. but i caught a scent of some manju nearby.”

you roll your eyes. “of course.”

satoru’s hand sneaks around your waist, his eyes twinkling behind his sunglasses the whole time. you allow it, because you’re stupid, and lean against him.

“and i wanted to check on my wife, of course. make sure she wasn’t wasting away without me.”

“it was mostly the manju though, right?”

he kisses your head, rubbing his nose against your temple. “you’re so cute. have i ever told you that?”

you just roll your eyes again. but don’t bother to push him away—even though it’s dreadfully hot outside and you might die of heatstroke.

at least it’d be a happy death… and satoru’s more likely to share his sweets with you this way.

he hums. “are you going to answer my question?”

“i’m shopping,” you pointedly look away. damn it. he’s distracting you.

megumi and yuji are a couple of stalls away now, and you have to pick up your pace a little bit, so you can catch up to the boys.

satoru laughs. “huh. that’s weird.”

“i don’t know what you’re implying.”

“i could’ve sworn you were attempting to spy on megumi and yuji.”

you give him a glare. and then attempt to pinch the arm clutched to your side, but satoru takes your hand before you get the chance. “i don’t spy, satoru.”

“clearly.”

“did you leave nobara behind? you’re supposed to be watching all of the first years.”

“you think kugisaki is the one i need to keep my eye on?”

you look forward to where megumi and yuji have stalled—the latter placing some ridiculous sunglasses on your usually prickly son. “okay, fair.”

satoru grins at you again.

the two of you share a knowing glance, looking at the boys. there have been many late night discussions about this very subject. many lectures about satoru keeping the very boundaries you’re breaking currently.

but who can blame you? honestly.

“what’d you hear?” he whispers in your ear, already in on this agenda.

your smile is mischievous, and you just open your mouth when there’s another body on your left side, arms already crossed.

“are we watching itadori and fushiguro try to flirt again?” nobara asks.

[vandal-flower]

Forged Contracts

Ror men with a male s/o who was the god of contacts and faked their death to become mortal.

Requested Characters: Poseidon, Hades and Buddha.

Warnings: Faking one's death.

Notes: Basically Zhongli.

Poseidon

First of all. Why?

He questions you on why you would do such a thing. You abandoned god hood in favor of being a human? To test your people?

Trying to reason with this man becomes harder every time you try. He constantly shuts you down, basically interrogating you.

When he finally listens to your reason, he gives you a weird look, but ends it that.

When other deities try to mock you for your actions, he comes in your defense.

Saying at least you have some pride and know when to admit your mistakes, unlike them, pieces of filth.

He may not look like it, but he genuinely loves you. Doesn't approve your decision, but understands.

"Even if you under the disguise of a mortal, maintain your pride."

Hades

Like his your brother, he is confused.

Why did you, of all gods, abandon your duties? You're the god of contracts for Heaven's sake!

Unlike Poseidon, he listens to your reasoning, giving you a chance to defend yourself.

In the end, there's nothing he can do other than accept what happened. He can't change the past or predict the future.

Even if someone tries to insult or shame you for your actions, they end up regretting it after realizing you're Hades' s/o.

Even if you may feel bad about your actions, he supports you and makes sure you're all right.

Also, he wants to get some help from you to form some...business deals with some of the gods.

"As the former god of contracts, can you show me some tips and tricks for someone to willingly sign a contract?"

Buddha

My guy here doesn't question you about why you faked your death.

He understands why you did it. To test your followers, abandon god hood, give humanity a chance to fend for themselves.

He is sure it was a hard decision for you, I mean, you love your followers despite their mistakes.

He much rather listen to your stories about your life as a god than the things that make you guilty. He knows how it upsets you.

However, he is proud of your ability to still remain among your people.

If anyone dares to even try to insult you, he always stands up for you. He is a chill guy, but doesn't tolerate nonsense.

Either way, he's pretty okay about it.

"Anyways, can you tell more about that monster you fought a thousand years ago?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oof. I'm back.

My inbox is open. Check out my Rules.

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Charles/Pierre AUs

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I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired by @wolfiemcwolferson | M | 4k A Hunger Games AU wherein Charles and Pierre are both victors, doing their best to survive the glittering death trap of the Capitol and taking solace in each other for one singular night a year. Until everything changes one fatal Games. This fic truly captured the essence of the Hunger Games world, and tugged on every heartstring I have as a longtime fan of the series. The writing is so poignant, and I was moved almost to tears a couple of times, while also being kept on the edge of my seat. This was truly a stunning portrayal of love and the revolution it brings.

'“Charles,” he whispers, his voice raw from talking all night. “I love you.” Charles stumbles backwards. It’s the worst thing he’s ever said. It’s an admittance. It’s a confession to what Charles was worried about.'

tell me, baby by @ilspredestinato | M | 4.1k This is a softer sort of AU than some of the others on this list - Pierre and Charles are simply two normal people, not drivers, who meet by chance at a New Year's party and are instantly drawn to each other. Everything about this AU makes me feel warm and hopeful inside: Pierre and Charles' meeting is described with such loving detail, and just enough slight awkwardness to make it believable but still achingly sweet and heartwarming. The fic as a whole is exactly that: heartwarming and hopeful, and exactly the sort of thing with which to wrap up an old year and start the new.

“Stop,” Charles did his best to roll his eyes, even if the dimples next to the corners of his lips betrayed him. He let Pierre’s laugh die down before speaking, nudging at his legs back. “Say my name.” He didn’t have to ask twice, Pierre’s fingers reaching out to tug at the neckline of his jumper the same way Charles had done himself when they were standing against the railing, smile firmly in place. “Charles.” “See?” He raised one hand, wrapping it around Pierre’s wrist softly, keeping the touch there even when he felt like shaking. It wasn’t like he couldn’t blame it on the cold. “You have an accent, too. Way prettier.” Pierre was already shaking his head before he finished speaking, making a small noise of disagreement. “No,” he said, tugging at Charles’ jumper again. They were too close, Charles realised, speaking right up into the other’s space. “Say my name.” He didn’t really mind. “Pierre.” The way Pierre looked at him made Charles want to squirm, even if they weren’t doing anything more than talking. He went all in, was the thing, thoughts so clearly stroked in every inch of his face Charles found it hard not to believe them. “Beautiful.”

firebug by @grandprix-ao3 | T | 5.9k Charles is a popular Twitch streamer. His boyfriend Pierre exists to his audience mostly off screen or at least, his face is never in frame. One day Pierre presents Charles with a pair of pink cat ear headphones. Charles's audience becomes fascinated by the mysterious boyfriend. This is just a cute, sweet, angst-free, low stakes established relationship fic that is having a lot of fun with the adorableness factor of Charles in cat ears and a boyfriend who adores him.

'“Jeez, Charlito,” Pierre says, hyperbolic in exasperation. He raises his eyebrows in a jitter, flicking the corner of the box with enough edge to his nails to make it pop. “I just think you are cute when you purr during your streams.” It’s awful how deftly Charles feels the heat rise in his cheeks. He almost wants to flatten his palms against them to hide the awful shade of pink he knows must be there, perhaps as red as the oversized headphones he already owns and wears for his streams, definitely not courtesy of Pierre, or anyone but himself, for that matter. “I am not—” he starts, cutting himself off with teeth in the back of his bottom lip. ‘I am not purring, I am making engine sounds,’ is probably not going to do anything but make Pierre laugh at him more, so he quits while he’s ahead. “You are so annoying,” he says, instead, like that’s somehow a defense. “I hate you. I am not wearing these stupid headphones.”'

an autumnal affair by @hourcat | T | 11.4k Pierre Gasly is to wed Charles' cousin to save the Leclerc name from disrespute. They fall in love. Pierre in this fic is perfect as a pride and prejudice-ish gentleman, rakish and lovely, and the chemistry between him and Charles is instant and undeniable - when reading it feels inevitable that these two belong together. Of course everything it is not so easy, the author puts you through many twists and although this has a happy ending the heartache a long the way is exquisite.

Once upon a time—a lifetime ago, practically—Pierre had told him that he was a good man. But that cannot be true, because the idea of having to watch his love and his cousin have a life together makes him both angry and horribly, terribly, unforgivably jealous. Charles should not have done this in the first place. Pierre had come to marry Giada, had come to pledge his life to her, and Charles had intervened. He knows he has no right to be upset. But he is. He is, and Pierre will never love him the way he wants to again, and he will never recover from this hole that’s ripped right through his heart. It’s all very simple, really. Charles curls up tighter in his sheets. Pierre will never love him again. A fresh round of tears swallows him entirely. It will be a long rest of his life if he has to watch them together on the estate.

jump then fall into me by @your-littlesecret | M | 13.6k Charles finds a lost puppy, and takes it to a local animal shelter, where he meets a very qualified (and very handsome) man. This story is adorable! I was literally giggling, kicking my feet and rolling around while I read it. I love how clueless Charles is, and how Pierre is immediately so very fond of him. And the puppy is adorable - I love her name!

He brings everything upstairs and once he’s put everything on a place he thinks will be okay, he lays on the floor with his stomach down and stares at his new family member. “What should I call you, huh?” There’s no answer, of course, only a lick to his nose before she goes back to the very important task of chewing on a toy Charles just bought.

nsfw: Imzadi by @effervescentdragon | E | 31k Star Trek AU. Pierre and Charles meet as children, when Charles is among the few survivors of a genocide. Pierre's mother serves in Starfleet, which is dispatched for the rescue effort. It's the beginning of a love that lasts a lifetime. It's not necessary to be familiar with Star Trek to enjoy this but if you are, this fic hews closely and lovingly to not only Star Trek canon, but the entire philosophy of the franchise. It was like a long catch up with an old friend. If you don't know Trek, or don't know it well, the Piarles-ness of the Piarles is note perfect. They are truly soulmates in every universe and this fic not only captures that, it is soaking in it. Possible CW for dubcon (of the sex pollen variety - which only increases the Trek-ness of this fic, considering where sex pollen started. It's actually very enthusiastic on both sides). I also love how Akira manages to make Charles's part-Betazoid empathic ability absolutely no help at all when it comes to Pierre.

"Charles? You're here?" The uncertainty in his voice is the final straw that pushes Charles to move and fall onto Pierre. He is mindful of all the tubes and needles and Pierre’s broken arm, but he needs to touch Pierre, needs to feel him, to know that he’s really here, and alive. His uninjured hand comes up and he tangles it into Charles’ hair, and the gesture is so familiar, it makes Charles cry. Pierre holds onto him until Charles cries himself out. It's Pierre who is hurt, though, and Charles feels stupid and selfish for being the one falling apart when his best friend had almost died. He pushes away, wiping his face as he sits back and grabs at Pierre’s hand, needing to feel him physically, because he can’t feel Pierre’s emotions at all. It’s like there is a void where his feelings used to be, and Charles opens his mouth to ask about it when Pierre beats him to the punch.

nsfw: sometimes I feel like a hostage by @wolfiemcwolferson | E | 36.2k Charles is a prince of Monaco, feeling stifled under the weight of a duty that he never asked for. Pierre is his bodyguard. Look, I just REALLY like the bodyguard trope, ok? This is a gorgeous example. Charles is inexperienced, Pierre is kind and a great protector, the secondary pairings are great (I squealed when one appeared kind of by stealth) and this just scratched a very particular itch for me. Tiredtiredsharl writes these two so well, in any situation.

'Charles starts to feel awkward again, this is so far outside of anything he’s ever known and it’s hard not to feel self conscious as he closes the door to this too big room with the too big bed, unsure of what he’s even needing. Pierre had said intimate. They were going to be intimate. Pierre pulls his coat off, standing beside the little half dresser thing and places it neatly on top. He hadn’t pulled a hat or gloves or a scarf out to wear so he’s now in one of those much too large sweaters that swallow him whole. Oh. Charles can take it off him. “Come here, Charles.” Pierre says, leaning against the dresser. Charles takes the three steps towards him. “Should this be sexier?” He hates that he just asked that question. Pierre doesn’t laugh though. He takes one of Charles' hands and pulls the glove off starting with the fingertips and working it off gently before he says, “There are no rules here. Sex between people who care about each other should be however the two of them wish it to be and it is special because they are together." Pierre is working the other glove off Charles' hand now. It’s so tender that Charles can admit, “I feel very dumb right now.” Pierre snorts. “And I feel very scared. So, we are even.”'

nsfw: have you brought back the light? by @wolfiemcwolferson | E | 36.7k Pierre is a superhero and Charles is his non-superpower boyfriend. A villain targets Charles and he gets sucked in to the multiverse where he gets stuck with a Pierre that isn't his. This fic might be a superhero fic at first glance but what I love most about it is the exploration of grief and trauma and the ways they appear in both universe. The storytelling in this is divine - the way the details of the relationship between Charles and Pierre in both universes is slowly revealed while Charles tries not lose hope that he will get rescued makes an emotional rollercoaster of the best kind.

"You know you’re an idiot .” Charles bites. “You have everything and you -” he wraps his arms around himself. “He moved out because he has feelings for you and you just let him go.” Pierre’s face goes carefully blank. Like that blankness that he leans on when he’s trying not to react to Charles specifically . “No.” “Yes,” Charles bites, and because he suddenly feels like a little soft animal with his belly exposed so he hits back. “You have Esteban and Anthoine and Charles wants you and you could have everything - ” “Charles -” he steps towards him, hand outstretched, “what do you mean?” “That you have everything and you’re wasting it.” Charles says again, even though it’s not an explanation. He doesn’t care that he isn’t offering him an explanation. He’s just angry that Pierre is giving it all away without trying. He’s on the verge of tears again, yanked back to two hours earlier as he gazed at the steeple of the auction house and imagined what it must be like to live in a world like this - with that awful little voice in the back of his head that was saying it doesn’t matter how much you hate it, that’s your home and those are your people and you don’t actually hate it at all. Charles would give anything to go home. He would give anything to stand in this apartment and fight with his Pierre. He would give anything to go and sit on the memorial bench. He would give anything to go home'

nsfw: you are perfection, my only direction (it's fire on fire) by @singsweetmelodies | E | 40k Charles and Pierre are dragonriders, each aligned with a different house. They are required to marry one another to prevent a war. This story is a perfect storm of arranged marriage, marriage of convenience and idiots in love. With DRAGONS. I'm not sure I need to say much else, but if you like high fantasy, handsome men, slow burn and some hot sex well this might just be the fic for you.

'“Don’t give me that look,” Charles groans, and he manages to roll his eyes, knocking his fist against Pierre’s chest. “You’re you! Anyone would want to have sex with you, don’t be stupid. Besides, maybe now I can finally see if you’re actually telling the truth in all your smug little stories about your bedroom escapades.” For a single moment, Pierre’s expression looks frozen, like that breathless instant right before a glass tips over and smashes. Then, Pierre smiles, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds almost cracked. “Right,” he says quietly. “Of course.” Before Charles can ask him what’s wrong, his smile changes. Brightens, and smooths into something real, something a lot more like Pierre’s usual smirk. “Oh, Charlito,” he purrs, and Charles blanches. He knows that tone of voice. It’s Pierre’s flirting tone of voice, which he doesn’t save for Charles, very often, but when he does, it’s always to make Charles blush. Sure enough, Pierre says now, in a voice so layered with suggestiveness that it should be illegal, or a new form of magic all on its own – “You haven’t even heard the half of it. You will be a happy man, married to me.”'

A Nymph's Heart by @espithewarlock | T | 46k In a world where magic and fey creatures are real, Charles is a violinist and Pierre is a water nymph, but they still manage to find each other and fall in love. The worldbuilding in this fic is just brilliant: rich and vivid and so immersive, it's like you're living every step of the journey with Charles. I adored the development of the relationship between Charles and Pierre: how they go from cautious acquaintances to a special friendship to lovers in the first part, and how they prove their love and trust for each other in the second, and get to enjoy a well-deserved happy ending in the third. Music also plays an integral role in this fic, and as a musician myself, that touched my heart and moved me in such a way that I will always have a soft spot for this fic.

'Pierre stepped directly in front of Charles and raised one of the flowers, tucking it behind his ear. “A gift for a gift,” he murmured, “for playing a song at my request I gift you a flower grown from my magic.” “Thank you,” Charles said automatically. The nymph’s fingers were cool and gentle as they brushed the top of his ear and secured the stem of the flower in place. A part of him wanted to close his eyes at the sensation, but he also wanted to hold onto every moment he had to study the nymph up close.'

nsfw: chassis by @hourcat | E | 50k Charles, an art teacher, has a one night stand with Pierre, a mechanic he meets in a nightclub. And that would have been that, had not Charles's car died soon after. In desperation, he contacts Pierre. Pierre is devastatingly attractive in this, all confidence and winking flirtatiousness. Charles never stood a chance. This fic has a perfect rom com vibe, with angst, miscommunication, sassy comic relief Yuki, mutual pining, a happy ending, and some hot car sex.

Charles huffs. “Stop calling me that,” he grits, and Pierre laughs again—louder, which clearly is just pushing his passenger’s buttons even more. “Why do you call my car a girl?” Oh, this is going to make him squirm. Pierre shrugs, pointedly not looking at Charles as he pretends to ponder his answer for a moment. “Well, I work with cars, yes? I fix them, I make them run, I get them purring again.” The line of traffic in front of them slows up just enough for Pierre to make a point of turning to face Charles. “And if I am going to be so hands on, I should think it’s only right to treat them like a lady.” He winks. He turns back to the road. He barely swallows the laugh as Charles makes a choked sound at his not-so-subtle implication.

of mute swans and nests by steponthegaslys | ? | 82k Set at the Royal Ballet in London, Pierre is a talented and rising ballet dancer. The new arrival of another dancer, a generational talent, in the shape of Charles Leclerc brings along additional drama, and not just because of their building attraction. (N.B. This fic contains sensitive content - readers are advised to please mind the tags for this fic before reading). This fic is a fun take on the relationship between Pierre and Charles, told between rehearsals, dances, and revelations. The supporting characters (Alex, George, Max, Daniel) create a brilliant system around Pierre, add amazing humour and really help to tell the story too. Plus, Pierre and Charles as ballet dancers? What's not to love!

“You know,” said Pierre quietly, voice barely a whisper. “My friends don’t think you’re pretending. When you look at me on stage like you love me.”

[the-s1lly-corner]

The Angst Alphabet

NOTE: any letter/alphabet prompts that have been made and put in the masterlist that do not specify which list theyre from, assume they are fluff alphabet prompts if they are posted prior to 6/19/24! Always worth to doublecheck, however this is a general thing!

Similar to the fluff and tropes list, you can turn to this list of prompts for ideas of what to request! This list will also be open indefinitely, hooray! If you're unsure if a character has already had any specific prompts done, you can always turn to the masterlist! You can find this list and other pre made prompt ideas at the bottom of the main masterlist! All will be in my pinned! You can find the rules for this alphabet under the cut, please keep them in mind when requesting! You are also free to use these prompts for your own writing!

Naturally, there is a chance that this list may contain subjects that can bring discomfort. I want to make it very clear that for the majority, if not all, of these prompts are in no way meant to be romanticized. That being said a lot of these prompts revolve around emotionally charged mistakes as well as people being naturally flawed; unless the scenario and character calls for it, assume that these are relationship hiccups.

CWs: mentions of death and grief, injuries, mentions of murder, talks of scars and while it can be seen in any way it can be seen in a S/H way however its a vague prompt, general mentions of loss, possibility of trauma depending on character and prompts that are requested together,

You can request up to 3 prompts and 2 characters in a single request! As long as I write for the character (I will let you know if I don't! We'd be here forever if I listed every character I write for..) and what fandoms I currently write for (can be found in the pinned as well as the status! If it says its ongoing, you're good to go!). As stated in the opening note, if youre unsure if a few prompts had been done for a character, check the Masterlist! Or alternatively you can ask me via inbox if it's been done yet! Speaking of, I only accept requests through the inbox since it's easier to keep track of.. as well as this I work on a queue system so expect your request to take a while; you're always free to ask when its expected to be posted! Request status will also be kept up to date in my bio! A lot of these prompts can be applied to romantic or platonic relationships however on the chance you ask for a character i only write platonic for and ask for a prompt that is more romantic leaning, I will do my best to make it platonic. If it cannot be done I will make that aware to you! Tags do not equal the fandoms I write for as thats subject to change! If a fandom is not listed or it's been a while I recommend looking at my pinned to see fandom statuses!

Admirer- What are they like when they have a crush on you, but they already know you dont notice them or reciprocate? Or alternatively, what if you were asked out by someone else before they got the nerve to do it themselves?

Break up- What can break your relationship? How are they like afterwards?

Clique- What if their group of friends and/or family disapprove of you, or outright hate you? How likely are they to crack under the pressure? Will they side with you or them, or will they choose to stand in the middle?

Distrust- How do they try to get your trust back? What can you do that breaks their trust?

Ex- What are they like when your ex turns up? Whether the ex in question is bad or not, how do they work through these feelings? Are they okay with you being friends with an ex?

Fight- How nasty can they get in an argument? Who walks away first, if there is any walking away?

Guttural- How do they show their emotions, do they talk about it? Do they silence themselves? Do they generally keep quiet or do they feel that they can't talk about it?

Heal- How do they make it up to you after a fight? Do they make a promise to do better or do they remain stagnant? Change is not linear, what will progress look like?

Jealousy- Very similar to the E prompt, as well as the Jealousy prompt from the fluff alphabet. How do they handle these feelings? What makes them jealous? Both in general, as well as when it comes to you?

Injury- Much like it's fluff counterpart... how do they handle you when your hurt... however, in this list... how are they in the moment?

Kill- Would they kill for you/out of revenge?

Lonely- How often do they feel alone? Do they seek you out or do they swallow their feelings?

Misery- How do they cope after your passing? How long does it take for them to pull themselves together ect ect

Nightmare- How do they soothe your nightmares? Do they have nightmares themsevles?

Opened- Will they throw something in your face in the heat of the moment, knowing it will hurt you? How do they proceed after the immediate damage?

Protective- How far are they willing to go to protect you? If they give everything they can, and you still get hurt... how do they react? Will they blame themselves, or you? Or will they go quiet?

Quake- Something in the past the effects how they move forward, in general and/or within the relationship

Rejected- How do they handle feeling rejected? Not just a rejected confession, but rejection as a whole? How do they cope when they feel rejected by you?

Strangers- What's it like when you find yourselves in the same space, after breaking up? Will they approach you or will they pretend they don't know you?

Two faced- How likely are they to lie to you, what would they lie about? What happens if they're caught?

Undying- In the case one of you are immortal or otherwise live long... how does that effect the dynamic?

Valentine- Different from its fluff alphabet counterpart, how will they feel if you stood them up on valentines day? On the flip side, what kind of emergency would make them stand you up?

Wounded- Do they have any scars, of any origin? How do they feel about them? How do they treat your scars, of any origin?

Xray- How obvious are they when theyre around something they hate/when you do something that upsets them

Yearn- Similar to it's fluff counterpart, how do they deal with separation or rather, how do they cope with wanting something they've lost and/or don't have?

Zestless- What happens if one or both of you lose your spark for the relationship? Will you try to ignite it, or will you simply part ways?

[hopelessdelusional]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷bad for business

‧₊˚♡pairing: bakugou x singer! reader

‧₊˚♡tw: slight mention of injury in the beginning, but that’s abt it

‧₊˚♡word count: 4K

‧₊˚♡a/n: Literally got a dream after i read this prompt, went insane, and then basically wrote a whole book…so it’s safe to say im obsessed

‧₊˚♡masterlist

inbox is open so hmu!!

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Bakugou Katsuki is a hero.

He is a Pro Hero, number 2 to be in fact (damn Deku). He has made a living fighting battles and saving lives, jumping off roofs and flying in the sky. He is a real life super hero, putting his life in danger. Every morning he wakes up has to prepare himself for the things he may see that day. The blood he might shed, and the people he may not be able to save. He has learned to be fearless, never finding himself nervous when jumping into the fight.

And yet, he’s never felt more terrified right now.

He met you three years ago, after quite literally crashing right into the very studio you record your music. He was battling a woman who had the ability to make and control giant vines, and apparently are explosive-proof. Todoroki almost hit him with a blast of his shitty ice, making him turn to his so called “partner” and cuss him out. However, that gave the villain the chance to grab him, and send him flying.

Bakugou soon found himself miles away from the fight, as he had to use his quirk in order not to fall to his death. But as many know, his quirk is sporadic.

That is how he crash landed into your studio.

It hurt like hell sure, but when he opened his eyes and saw you standing over him with nothing but concern in your eyes, he instantly forgot the many injuries he gained. You were breathtaking, and not like anyone he had ever interacted with. You immediately made the terrified people in the studio help him up and you found the nearest first aid kit and fixed him up as best as you could before an ambulance came.

He was dazed, but you were so kind and made small talk. Bakugou had always been one to hate any type of small talk, but he loved every word that left your mouth. You were newly moved to Japan, some sort of opportunity came to you that you couldn’t turn down (Bakugou was severely concussed so a lot of what you said was a blur).

Bakugou does remember Mina and Kaminari mentioning you, playing your music whenever he came to either of their houses. You had such a unique voice, a bit raspy that caught the attention of millions of people. Surprisingly, also caught the attention to Bakugou, as he would play it during the rare nights when he’d be cooking alone in his kitchen. Your story telling was incredible, your lyrics were anything but bland. Making music about the bad and good exes you’ve had, your friends and family, your past, and even wrote songs about random characters your beautiful mind came up with. You always made sure to use all sorts of instruments, and the notes that you compacted into your songs never ceased to amaze Bakugou’s standards.

Now he was here, sitting on a table asking you all sorts of questions about you. Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was just your personality but Bakugou began to get addicted to you, never wanting you to stop talking.

“Here.”

You turned away from him, your hand leaving his knee instantly making him already miss the warmth of you as you shuffled through your bag.

He watched you with curiosity (and took the chance to shamelessly check out your ass) before you turned around with a newfound grin on your face. You were holding a pen, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding the excitement of this pen in your perfect hand. You walked back over to him, your perfume becoming addicting to him, and you gently grabbed his hand. You were making intense eye contact with him, and Bakugou suddenly felt…nervous? You smiled at the blush that rose on the hero’s face, before you clicked the pen and began to write something on his wrist.

Bakugou watched, feeling somewhat like a child, and once you finished and allowed him to look. He was pleasantly surprised to see your number on his arm.

His head instantly shot up, almost not believing this was happening.

“If I text this and it’s a scam, I’m gonna hunt you down.”

His gruff voice didn’t match the face he was making at you, and you threw your head back and laughed.

Once you caught your breath, you smiled at him, making him blush even more (he didn’t even know that was possible!).

“As fun as that would be, I promise that is in fact my home number. I would never trick my favorite pro hero like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two paramedics walking through the door, ready to help him out of there. However, he chose to ignore them and smirk at you instead.

“Favorite eh?”

You giggled, still holding his hand.

“Don’t get too cocky mister, or else I’ll write a mean song about you.”

His grin widened, using his other hand to lead your hand to his lips. He gently kissed it, hating how chapped his lips were, but the blush that quickly appeared on your cute cheeks made it worth it.

“I’d rather the song have another meaning.”

The two of you held eye contact, and he soaked up every second of it not ever wanting to forget what color you eyes were.

You smiled at him before you turned to the paramedics that began to replace your presence. They helped him up, and walked him over to the bed that was rolled in by another paramedic. Once he was comfortable (as comfortable as someone with many broken ribs and a concussion could be) he looked back up at you. Bakugou was annoyed to see one of the paramedics talking nervously to you, asking for an autograph. However, the jealously slowly turned into admiration as he watched you beam at the man as you excitedly signed the crinkled piece of paper he had in his pocket.

“My daughter just adores your music, she started learning guitar because of you actually! It’s truly incredible watching her play, just makes me so proud of her.”

Your lip was pouted, as you stood listening to his words. You looked so genuine, so happy that he was telling you this. Bakugou could tell this means the world to you, watching you enthusiastically hugged him. The two of you quickly made your goodbyes, and you immediately turned to look his way. Bakugou would have been embarrassed that he was caught looking at you if you hadn’t beamed at him like that. You jogged over to him, making him chuckle how eager you were to be back in his presence. Bakugou instantly grabbed your empty hand again, not a single ounce of shame for how “down bad” he was acting.

“Talk to you later?”

Your voice couldn’t have been any louder than a whisper, making sure he knew these were words only for him to hear. Bakugou grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Of course.”

Instead of one of your flashing smiles, your whole face softened and a small smile appeared on your face.

“In the meantime then, I’ll definitely be writing a song.”

That’s when Bakugou realized there was no coming back from you. He was officially obsessed, never wanting anything more than your hand in his.

Unfortunately for him, the two of you were rudely interrupted by the dumbass that got him here in the first place (not that Bakugou is complaining). Todoroki loudly coughed, making you jump and him scowl.

“I see you’re in good-“ his heterochromia eyes looked down at Bakugou and your interlocked hands, and then looked back up at Bakugou with a smirk.

“Good hands?”

Yeah, Bakugou definitely got teased for the rest of the day, and soon the rest of the week by all the people half-and-half told. But honestly? Bakugou couldn’t give two shits when had you texting him all day.

Besides, they were just jealous.

Kaminari and Mina especially lost their shit, begging for him to tell them all about you, even asking for your number. Obviously, Bakugou kindly told them to stop asking (he told them to fuck off and mind their fucking business) and soon enough the two of you began dating.

It was so easy being with someone like you. The two of you worked so well together, and you already understood the pressure of paparazzi constantly swarming you like hawks. Crazily enough, the reveal of you guys dating didn’t release until after your one year. Of course there were plenty of news articles and random fans on the internet who speculated it, but you interacted with enough people for your fans to also say you were dating them as well. Besides, the idea of you, an international singer/songwriter dating the number two hero in the world was not something that people could believe easily. But it was the truth, and people everywhere went crazy when you posted a picture of the two of you.

It was the picture of Bakugou picking you up by the waist in his kitchen. You were wearing his shirt and some random sweats because you had just gotten home from a concert the night before. Ochako was the one able to capture this beautiful moment of the couple. You had been teasing him for being able to cook but not bake, and he had enough of your jokes and simply picked you right off your feet. In the picture the both of you were smiling widely, especially Bakugou. When you posted the picture, fans analyzed the picture like crazy.

Bakugou knew he wasn’t the most well liked Pro-Hero, but the amount of people who tried to make a video showing the picture and claiming it was “obvious” that he was abusing you was a little annoying. You always reassured the blond when you caught him watching those videos, turning off his phone and climbing in his lap. His hands happily making his way on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair while the other hand held his face gently. His eyes would close and you would whisper sweet nothings in his ear, praising him for anything and everything, sometimes even singing the songs you wrote for him.

Bakugou still remembers when the two of you were almost a year into the relationship (ten months and 6 days to be exact) and in the mist of him casually scrolling on TikTok a video of you performing at your concert popped up. He was certainly surprised to see videos already posted, since the concert had quite literally just ended. Obviously he watched the video, adoring how you talked to your fans.

“Now children, calm down so I can talk. I am not gonna talk over your borderline screaming, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to sing after this if I talk like that.”

Bakugou snickered. He always loved when you were sassy and continued to watch.

“So whilst on tour, I’ve had a song stuck in my head,” the crowd went wild, probably thinking you were going to play one of your songs called “stuck in my head.” Your face lit up in realization, and you laughed at the mistake you made.

“Oh my poor babies, I’m so sorry but I am not playing that song.”

You gave your crowd an apologetic smile as they booed you. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, upset as to why you were being booed, but continued to watch nonetheless.

“Oh my gosh get over yourself,” you rolled your eye waiting for the crowd to settle down before starting up again.

“I had like, this chorus just repeating itself over and over again. It was so annoying y’all! I felt like I was going crazy! And what made it even more annoying is that I couldn’t go to my safe place and sit down and write it cus-“

You gestured to your surroundings.

“-I’m on tour.”

The crowd went wild for longer than Bakugou liked, but you let them get it out, shaking your head like you were disappointed but the smile gave you away.

“Instead I had to settle with my oh so very empty tour bus bed, and write the song there. It was literally like, what? 3AM? And I was sitting on that bed with my guitar, notebook, and my laptop. I’m so glad I wasn’t sharing or like in a hotel because I was up until 5…”

You bent over to laugh, and the audience as well. Meanwhile, your now very grumpy boyfriend was about to close the app and text you not to do shit like that. You put on full fledge concerts for crying out loud! You should not be staying up that late just to write a goddamn song.

“And that was last night.”

The concert booed as Bakugou’s patience started to thin. What the hell were you thinking? You even texted him goodnight at like 2! Rest is very important and you need to-

“But I’m glad that I did, because I think this is my new favorite song. And I just can’t wait anymore, so is it okay if I play it for you guys?”

The crowd literally went feral. The person recording was screaming along with every goddamn person at that place. Bakugou was now fully sitting up in his bed, eager to listen to this song. He was a little hurt, he will admit. You always send him a video of the many songs that you write sporadically on this tour, and you’ve written a lot. So why didn’t you do the same thing here? What was so different about this song that he couldn’t be the first to hear it like usual?

“That sounds like a yes,” you reached for one of the many necklaces you were wearing and pulled out a very thin necklace with a familiar pendant. Bakugou immediately recognized it, as it was the one he got for you on your six month anniversary. It was one of the petals of a rose that you saved from your first date. He had it dried and put into a charm of a necklace when he noticed you getting upset that you couldn’t keep the flowers he got you. When he gave it to you, tears were falling down your face as he kissed you. That’s when he swore to himself that if he met any of your exes he wouldn’t leave without giving them a brand new scar.

You pulled it out and kissed it gently, before whispering into it.

“This is for you baby.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, the crowd losing their minds and you started playing guitar. The two of you would make the smallest hints that you were in a relationship, but never as bold as this. Not that he was complaining.

Secretly he had been wanting to let the public know that you were dating, he wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. He was honestly sick of seeing people “ship” him with extras and he especially hated when the same happened to you.

He’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I’ve gone crazy

But they don’t know me like my baby~

Bakugou remembers that moment like it was yesterday. His face instantly blossomed a bright blush, and his lips formed a soft smile. The crowd finally settled down after the beginning and he was able to listen to the song, closing his eyes pretending like he was there in the audience. He put the phone up to his ear and laid back down, soaking up every word and every note.

He’s good

It’s bad

The best I’ve ever had

And he’s so nice

It’s sad

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

He’ll be the death of me

That’s how he got here, standing in a special area in your sold out venue wearing your newest merch.

And Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.


This was the first time he had come to see your concert, because last time you toured it was when your relationship was a secret. Now, he sat nervously in his chair, his colleagues on either side of him. You had given all of them tickets, making sure they had the best seats in the house but also allowed them to not be disturbed by fans.

Bakugou was bouncing his leg, picking at his fingernails as he watched the crowd. It seemed that nobody knew they were there, everyone waiting in anticipation of your show. Your music was so diverse, everyone knew that it would contain all sorts of emotions and energies. You were the type of performer who liked to be as close to the audience as possible, you loved adding commentary to your songs during the pauses, making faces, and dancing around. You loved to have fun, and let loose. When you got the green light to plan the tour, you were practically bouncing off the walls of your now shared home. You spent three months planning it, which was a new record for you, before announcing. However, there was just one thing that Bakugou didn’t like about the tour.

He knew absolutely nothing about it. In fact, you made sure of it. Hiding your notebook, changing your laptop’s password, making sure your manager didn’t tell him shit about it. That’s why he was terrified. His partner, his very famous singer/songwriter of a soulmate was about to do the very first night of the tour in Japan and Bakugou didn’t know a thing.

That’s why Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

Soon enough, the lights began to dim, and people started to stand up. A hush fell over the crowd as the venue blacked out, and the wrist bands on everyone’s wrists lit up.

“Holy shit it’s happening.” Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, grin spreading across his face.

Ochako, Kaminari, and Mina happily took the evening off to see you, while the rest of your invites weren’t able to. Kirishima made Bakugou promise at least one photo of the two of them after the show.

A soft hum came out of the speakers, and suddenly a spotlight appeared to reveal you standing at the very far back of the stage. The crowd went insane, and you walked down the stage.

When it came to your outfits, you always had to keep it comfortable. You loved to jump around dancing, sometimes fall to your knees dramatically. You especially loved to squat. Jumping around in that position and when you stood up you always made sure to flaunt the ass that you worked very hard on in the gym.

You came out strutting down the stage in very baggy and flowy black pants and a very cropped black long sleeve sweater that allowed you to show off the lace bra that went down to your belly button. But that wasn’t where it stopped, nor was it the best part of your outfit. To Bakugou’s surprise you were wearing boots with an obnoxiously thick heel, that were very obviously Dynamite themed.

Bakugou smirked at the sight, taking in the rest of the little details of your outfit. You wore a giant ring on your index finger that was also Dynamite inspired, as a fan gave it to you, and Bakugou could see his initials sewn into the bottom of your sweater.

You stopped at the end of the runway, pulling the microphone away from your face in a dramatic motion. You slowly looked around, taking in your crowd. A smile spread across your face, and when your gaze looked straight forward to look for Bakugou, he made sure to make little sparks from his hands to let you know he was right here. You pointed at him with the finger that had the Dynamite ring on it, and Bakugou honestly felt like it was just you and him in the stadium. You mouthed an ‘I love you’ at him, and Bakugou was now ignoring the new roar from the audience.

“You guys should get married already.” Mina whispered in Bakugou’s ear, and instead of blowing her face up, he just smiled, still looking in your direction.

“I plan on it.”

The first song you sang was one of your oldest ones, which also happened to be a much slower and sadder song. Instead of listening to the grim lyrics (not because they were bad, just because Bakugou hated to remember how bad some of your relationships were and didn’t want to get angry) the hero closed his eyes and listened to your voice. He wanted to take in his environment and all the notes you sang. The song started to drift off midway, which confused Bakugou. His eyes suddenly snapped open when he heard your newest song, which was much more upbeat. He watched you jump in the air and sing the song with much more passion than the original version. The crowd recovered quickly from the switch up and was singing along happily.

You sang a couple more of your newer and upbeat songs, making sure to add new notes to them and even belt a couple of notes to get the crowd excited. You were having so much fun, and Bakugou had never seen you look more alive. This is where you belonged, and he wanted to be right here every time watching.

There was a pause for you to sit down at the edge of the runway. You sat criss-cross, and much closer to the audience for Bakugou’s liking. He always got nervous when you reached out for a fan’s hand, scared that they would do something that could hurt you.

Thankfully, that hadn’t ever happened, and you sat very cutely waiting for the audience to quiet down so you could speak.

“Wow. We’re halfway through already? Well, I think we all know what that means…”

You cocked your head to the side, and a soft piano started to play a familiar rhythm.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, get out your tissues. It is now time to remember why you are no longer dating your ex, and for you to be reminded that your trauma isn’t just a thing that makes you funny.”

The crowd screamed, but almost immediately stopped when you began to sing in a much softer and lower register than before. As depressing as these songs may be, Bakugou firmly believes that these types of songs bring out the best in your voice. It allows you to challenge your breath control, and truly sing with so much passion and emotion.

A couple of songs pass, and Bakugou finds you when the stage gets lit up again. You’re in the middle of the runway, standing with your head down waiting for the band to begin. As soon as the piano starts, the crowd screams and yells. This is one of your all-time most popular songs, it was the one that caught a lot of people’s attention and boosted your popularity. Funnily enough, you actually hated this song because you wrote it in high school, so Bakugou was surprised to see you preform it.

“Is this Sick of Losing Soulmates?” Ochako yelled, because of the screaming of your audience.

Bakugou turned to her and confirmed her suspicions, making Mina and Kaminari start screaming along with the audience (as they were doing the entire time).

Bakugou watched as you began to sing, and noticed how you really got into it. You added a lot more dramatic pauses before certain lines, and even speaking some of the lyrics, making it feel more like anger than sadness.

Yeah, I’m sick of losing soulmates

Won’t be alone again

I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me

So how do we begin?

At one point, you laid down on your back, reaching for the sky as you sang your heart out, and Bakugou noticed you choking up a bit at certain lyrics.

We will grow old as friends

I've promised that before, so what's one more in our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

Time and hearts will wear us thin

So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

The song soon ends, and your last pose has you on your knees, head looking down at the floor. The stadium goes pitch dark, including the wrist bands, before they light up again along with your stage. Bakugou sees you wipe a tear off your cheek, and you sit there once more taking in your fans that take the chance to start chanting your name. You put your lips together, closing your eyes and putting your hands on your heart. Your eyebrows are furrowed and Bakugou can tell you’re still crying. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to you and hold you, wiping away your tears and replacing them with tender kisses.

You open your eyes, putting the mic back to your mouth and the audience quiets down in order to let you speak.

“Oh boy, I am so overwhelmed by emotions. I mean that was the song that started it all right?”

The crowd was still practically silent, as you’ve trained them well. You get off your knees and get into a more comfortable sitting position (criss-cross of course) and continue.

“I used to absolutely loath that song, because I wrote that when I was at my lowest. I was so sick and tired of love, having to try again over and over again. Every relationship that ended seem to break a piece of me off, and I was honestly starting to give up.”

You let out a broken chuckle, putting your free hand over your eyes momentarily before starting again.

“But then I met Katsuki, in which he literally crashed into my life.”

The crowd stayed silent, but Bakugou could tell they wanted to start screaming. You were not looking at him, and to his surprise Bakugou felt a tear run down his cheek.

“Three years of paradise. I’ve always had a fear of losing you, but it especially hits when I sing songs like that.”

There was a pause, and suddenly Bakugou felt like he was back in that studio where he met you. Staring at you and falling in love all over again.

“I love you baby, forever and always.”

Bakugou smiled, and all that fear that was with him before left. You were his and he was yours, and that’s all that he needed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and you knew.

Bakugou Katsuki was no longer terrified.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╯

none of the songs quoted are not mine!!! the first one is “Bad for Business” by Sabrina Carpenter, and the second one is “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by dodie

i hope you enjoyed bc boy oh boy i did

literally took me 4 hours to write but i couldn’t pull myself away from the keyboard

i rlly need to start writing other characters for x readers but oh well

[sailorshadzter]

Prompt: After being captive in Dragonstone for several months, Jon just wants to let off steam especially after repressing all the things he wants to shout at Daenerys. He went to Sansa's solar itching for a fight, but Sansa is guarded (has the Lady of Winterfell walls up). He finally succeeds in baiting Sansa to a fight, and then he can't help but laugh during mid-shouting match. Jon misses the tension, confusion, and he misses being treated as an equal. Sansa is confused, annoyed, but she can't help but be amused. Jon reduces the tension by apologizing, and they awkwardly try to do their jobs (talk about the castle and evacuation).

ANONNN

this has been in my inbox a long time so i hope you see this!!!

send me prompts

He knows it’s wrong, but there’s no stopping himself now.

Without any hesitation, he’s pushing open the door to the solar that once belonged to him, to them, and of course there she sits behind the desk, her usual place. She looks up as he barges in, a brow arched in surprise, but her face does not change. 

Not at first, that is.

“Jon,” she greets softly, carefully, hands laying down atop the desk she sits behind. “I did not expect you,” she continues, blue eyes unwavering in their gaze. What she means to say is I thought you were with her, but she does not allow herself to speak to him in such a way. 

Not yet, that was. 

They’ve been apart for a long seven months and she cannot help but to wonder if the man that returned from Dragonstone was even the same man she knew. Jon was someone else entirely it seemed- though she hates to admit it. She thinks back to their last private conversation, one that had happened in this very same room just the day before… Did you bend the knee to protect the North, or because you love her? His face had changed when she’d asked such a question. She might as well have slapped him, the way he had looked at her then. Have you no faith in me at all? He had asked her, cutting her, striking her, filling her with shame. That could have been her chance, her one moment to tell him everything… But then she remembered the sight of him on the damned dragon queen’s arm and jealousy took control. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, but she’s shaking her head, rising up to come around the desk to stand before him, just an arms length away. “You weren’t at dinner.” He adds, recalling the way the lords had exchanged their glances, how Daenerys had whispered something to Tyrion, who only shook his head and swallowed a goblet of wine. 

“No, I wasn’t,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her voice brokers no argument, but his blood boils all the same. He wishes for her to rage at him, to fight him, to curse him. “I am sure your queen was more than enough company for you.” Ah, there it was, that quiet resentment. She speaks the words before she can stop them, though truth was, she’s glad she’s said them now. 

“It’s rude to avoid her in such a way,” he snaps, harsher than he intends, but she’s laughing, blue eyes scathing in their gaze. “I mean it, Sansa, you don’t know what she’s capable of if you provoke her!” 

“Oh, don’t I?” She snarls, throwing her hands up. “As if I’ve not already faced her wrath once? As if her dragons have not already attacked a local farm? As if I’ve not already faced worse than her?” She rolls her eyes, turning away. “Your queen will be the death of us all-”

“She isn’t my queen!” He explodes, cutting her off, drawing her back. For the first time, her face softens, something like realization registering in her blue eyes. “She isn’t my queen,” he says again, softer now, gray eyes full of the desperation he feels in his heart. A laugh escapes him without warning, without hesitation, for this conversation is everything it shouldn’t be. He cannot help but wish he’d never come here at all. 

“Jon, I…” She speaks softly, hand twitching as if she might reach for him. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, quieter now than ever before, turning away to face the hearth, his back to her. It takes but a single moment for her hand to touch his shoulder, to turn him around to face her once more, the touch of her hand spreading warmth through all of his limbs. 

She swallows and then stands a little straighter, her arm falling back down by her side. “We do have the supplies to last, you know,” she says, changing the subject, understanding him in a way no one else ever could. 

“I knew you would find a way,” he says awkwardly, watching as she moves away, to sit back behind the oak desk, wishing he had the courage to sit on its edge as he once would have done. Perhaps with time… Perhaps there would be a day soon that they would fall back into their old steps with ease. “Lord Royce said the grain stores are plentiful.” She had done well to prepare Winterfell for the war that was to come, like the queen she should have been. 

“I have sent word to most of the remaining houses to retreat here,” she continues, hands folding together atop the desk. “This is the safest place to be, after all.” Jon is nodding, agreeing, and they quickly fall into an easier conversation- one of planning and of survival. He supposes that should they all live through the Long Night, there would be time enough for them to talk about everything else. 

And so they talk, not of their feelings, not of anything but what was to come. 

Everything else would come in due time.

[hiemaldesirae]

Swap AU:

Vox's Goetia (we need a name for him...umm because he's where Vox gets the extras for the fight against Heaven; got any ideas?) looks like a Griffin. He's got a Lion lower half and eagle upper half but his colors are shades of blue. (You see why Vox proposed that deal.)

The crew work on defense for days. Vox goes to Lucifer to ask about Angel weaknesses and informs him about Adam's threats against Charlie and the Hotel, and that's how the hotel crew gets informed of angel weaknesses. Lucifer tells, after all why should he keep Heaven's weakness a secret when they're coming for his daughter?

Vox then puts a big order of Angelic steel in for Carmine, paying extra to have it arrive early, which it does so he and Pentious can build turrets and drones to shoot down the exterminators. They have a blast.

Also: fun facts:

Vox's sensors and subconscious relax and recognize Alastor's scent as safe, even though Vox himself cannot smell anything. The sensor's database has recognized certain scents as family (Husk's, Vel's, Val's) lover's/husband's (Alastor's) little sister (Charlie's) my duck loving liege lord who might be my friend too? (Lucifer) the crazy exorcist chick whose now treating me with kid gloves--IT WAS ONE PANIC ATTACK! (Vaggie) Val's weird Spider who keeps taking photos and I know is stealing my shit (Angel Dust) The Best Little Engineer That Could (Sir Pentious) The Engineer's less then steller sidekicks 1-8 (Eggbois) the chick that keeps blowing up the wall (Cherri Bomb)

Angel Dust does do more then steal. He brings in Alastor's cooking to the Hotel, and Vox who does miss homemade jambalaya jumps at the chance to eat it. Vox just devours it. (Of course Angel lied and told him it was set aside for Niffty and Velvette for working so hard. He wasn't going to tell him Alastor had been waiting at the door of V-tower with the large Tupperware bowl with strict instructions that only Vox got what was inside.)

Vox actually turns in early--he'd been stressing out with Adam's threat laying over him and the thought of a true death coming for him hasn't sat well, but the warmth of good food made him sleepy and he goes to bed. He's barely asleep when Alastor joins him, gently petting his rabbit ears and murmuring his undying devotion to sleeping Vox's ears.

uhhh. drawing from the demons of the ars goetia grimoire, seir could work as a name? according to his description, seir can go to any place on earth in a matter of seconds to accomplish the will of the conjurer (possibly explaining how vox can use him for errands and such), and hes not a particularly evil demon. he's also a prince of hell, so that makes his and stolas' relation even closer since there seems to be only 7 of them in the ars goetia grimore

HAHAHA awww bonding time with pentious and vox!!! i still stand by the fact that i think vox should get to say kys to at least ONE other person in the swap au. i simply believe my wife should be allowed to cyberbully whoever he wants <3 also i imagine lucifer would show up to help with fortifications too, no? i just cant see him leaving his daughter and friend alone to deal with the fallout while not leaving the palace... though admittedly, i am a bit biased from what electric mentioned.

me after i die. HE STILL RECOGNIZES AL AS HIS LOVER...... auwgudawgh...... imgonna be SICK. what the HELL did they even fight about because clearly it wasnt enough to keep both of them from pining for each other... AUAUWGAHAH every time you come in my inbox its like another plane (angst( striking the twin towers (my heart)

and i am SUCH a fucking sucker for radiostatics love language being food. the idea that al nabs / has angel nab voxs stuff so that he can stake his claim but he also makes him food.... just stop being cryptic and TELL HIM YOUR SHIT !!! god i hate them. dysfunctional ass toxic couple theyre the WORST. and al. please for the love of god just be a Normal Person and STOP BREAKING INTO VOXS BED AT NIGHt ?!!?!?? just one normal thing from you. god damn its like if he doesnt act like a freak he loses 20 years off his lifespan or something

[chaotic-mystery]

Not A Survivalist Girl Part 6:

“What Was I Made For?”

Written by: @chaotic-mystery & @tightjeansjavi

(Joel miller x f!reader)

Summary: After you get too close to the fire that is Joel Miller and get burned, you finally tell him how you really feel and show him was true rage is. In the process, he shows you he actually does have a heart.

CW: Mean! Joel, female rage, heavy on the angst, mild violence, talks of death & murder, child loss, Joel finally finds his heart like the grinch, grief, trauma, heartbreak, forgiveness, making up, fluff, a happy ending for once, +18 minors DNI.

WC: 4.7k

A/N: everything is hitting the fan in the mojo dojo casa house tonight. Enjoy! I love feedback and talking about this so feel free to send stuff to my inbox when you’re done!

When Joel Miller was back in the comfort of his own room, with the 4 walls around him seemingly closing in, he began to pace. The floorboards beneath his feet creaked and groaned with each heavy step he took. He was gripping the tendrils of his salt and pepper stained hair from the roots. He tugged hard, mumbling incoherently under his breath. His eyes were squeezed shut as the images of what just partook in front of the crackling fire raced through his brain. If Tommy were here..Well, he’s not fucking here. He ain’t comin’ back. He left you. Remember? Now you’re stuck with this girl.

I shouldn’t have done that. I should not have fucking done that. What the hell was I thinking? I should have just..I should have stopped myself when I still had the chance.

Don’t tell me you’ve already started to regret it? You saw how eager she was. Don’t stand here and say that you regret it when you know it ain’t true.

Did I have to be so mean? So cruel? I shouldn’t have left her like that. I was too rough. Even if she enjoyed it..I didn’t even bother to see if she was okay after the fact. I just fucking left her there stained with my cum, and retreated to my room like a fucking dog with its tail between its legs?

Don’t tell me that you’ve gone all soft now. For fuck sakes, Joel. You had sex. You fucked her like the slut that she is. She wanted it.

That’s not the man I am. I don’t degrade women like that. I respect them. I always have, I always will—

Well, hate to break it to ya, but you did nothing but degrade her back there. Left her there stained in your cum, tears in her eyes and didn’t even offer to help clean her up? You’re a mean mean old man, Joel Miller.

Oh god, what have I done?

As you laid there on the floor wondering why he got up so fast, you couldn’t help but think it was something you did. Maybe he came to his senses and realized what he did was wrong. Did you come off too strong and he had a lapse of judgment? Even if he did, he was just as guilty with flirting as you were, always stealing glances of you when he thought you weren’t looking, the lingering pauses before he said goodnight because he didn’t want to get off the couch and leave you be. Fuck this you thought to yourself and got up off the floor, immediately wrapping a blanket around you. If Joel wanted to fuck you and leave you there like you were nothing, he was going to hear about it for sure.

“What the fuck is your problem?! How the fuck can you just use me to get off and then leave me on the floor? Are you fucking insane?!” You shouted and bursted though the bedroom door to his room where he was sound asleep, that was until he heard you. You wanted him to hurt exactly how you hurt, to feel so bad about himself like he made you feel but that wasn’t your character. You would’ve never done that to him or anyone else for that matter. Your cold hands riddled with adrenaline grabbed anything close from his nightstand and chucked it at his body that was covered with blankets. The alarm clock went flying across the room and hit him in the shoulder, obtaining a grunt from the old man. Joel shot up out of bed when he noticed the book he started reading a couple days ago was on its way to hitting him in the head. Putting his arms out to stop you, he pleaded with a gruff tone for you to hear him out.

“No! There’s nothing you can say to make this better, Joel. Nothing. You made me feel so vulnerable and special and like you liked me, until you left me there alone. Didn’t even kiss me, not that that would’ve been much better, but it would’ve been something!

You walked over to him, he was standing at the foot of his bed and face plastered with shock and frustration. The look of defeat on your face was killing him inside, he knew what he did would ultimately crush you and make you not trust him again, and yet here you were screaming at him for doing it. Your arm raised up and just as you were coming down to smack Joel across his face, he grabbed your wrist roughly and held it there in place, looking deep into your eyes as if he was trying to tell you something.

“Please don’t fuckin’ hit me. I deserve it, no doubt about it, just..please.” He blew out a frustrated puff of air as he firmly, yet delicately held your wrist in his calloused palm, inches from where it was about to collide with his face. His eyes were pleading with you, begging for forgiveness despite knowing that he didn’t deserve it. “M’sorry. What happened back there? It never should have happened. I shouldn’t..I shouldn’t have done that. I crossed a fuckin’ line and—I know I can’t just go and take it back, but I’m sorry for puttin’ you in that position.”

The tears in your eyes spilled down your warm cheeks and the small ache in your chest finally made you stop in your tracks, completely breaking down in front of Joel. “You deserve so much more than that, you fucking animal. I’ve done so much for you and this is how you repay me? You weren’t even that good, I was faking it.” Your harsh tone was low enough for him to barely hear in his good ear, knowing it was killing him to hear you be so cold. “Fuck you. I don’t ever want to speak to you again and I hate you. I hate you, Joel Miller.” The stare you had on him could burn holes into his face if it were possible.

Joel was taken aback by your words, and the tone you used to deliver them. His brows furrowed as he released your wrist from his grip. “An animal? That’s what I fuckin’ am t’ya? Tell me, sweet girl. What exactly have you fuckin’ done for me, huh?” Sweat pooled around his chest and forehead from the adrenaline-filled-rage that presently coursed through his veins. “Oh, I’m sure you were fakin’ it sweetheart. You hate me so badly? Fuckin’ leave then. What the hell is stoppin’ you? Take what you want and fuckin’ leave.”

That was the last thing you wanted him to say. You didn’t want him to tell you to go, you wanted him to feel so badly about what he’d done, wanted him to make you stay and fix his mistakes but clearly he didn’t want that. Maybe this was his cop out to finally get rid of you like he wanted to awhile ago. “Why are you so mean?” The crack in your voice only made your tears stream down your face faster, the lump in your throat making it harder to talk with every other word. Finding enough will in your body to move your cemented feet from the floor, you walk over to the one thing he ever had that was yours. Your pink blanket. The soft material poking out from under his comforter made it that much harder to take it, but you needed to. He didn’t deserve your kindness, your warmth, your giving nature. You grabbed the corner of your blanket and pulled as hard as you could and made a mess of his bed in the process. The detangling of the two blankets felt poetic in a way almost, like you were separating yourself from Joel, kind of. Then again, it’s just blankets and you’re just a stupid girl who really thought someone like Joel Miller could change. Holding the blanket close to your chest, your eyes met Joel’s once more, searching for some type of reason as to why he’s being like this.

Joel zoned in on your delicate fingers grasping around the ends of the blanket. That stupid fluffy pink blanket that seemed to bring him a certain comfort that he almost despised, loathed even. It smelled of you, of strawberries of sweetness and honey and all the things that he felt he was ill-deserving of. The softness along his skin was equivalent to what he imagined floating on fluffy clouds must feel like. Just as you had grasped the corner, he was already reaching for the other end, grabbing ahold of it firmly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was tell you about his past, about his daughter and what happened to her on outbreak day. He’d much rather gouge his own eyes out, drown, be shot over and over again than have to relive the night he lost his baby girl. He was facing the realization that there was no talking himself out of this one. No more bullshit excuses for his anger, for his resentment. Joel Miller knew that he had to be raw and vulnerable with you if he ever wanted to heal.

“You really wanna know why I'm so mean? Why I struggle so fuckin’ hard on showin’ you an ounce of fuckin’ kindess?” His jaw clenched tightly as his fingers clutched around the soft fabric. He could already feel tears stinging painfully in the corner of his eyes as he did his best to fight them back and not allow them to freefall. His gaze fell upon you, and your own tear stained cheeks and watery lashes, a pleading look to your irises as he inhaled a shaky breath.

“My daughter was murdered on outbreak day. She was twelve years old when she died. It was my thirty-sixth birthday..it all happened so fast. I did everythin’ I fuckin’ could to protect her. I failed her that night. I tried so fuckin’ hard n’just for her to slip through my fuckin’ fingers. My brother Tommy was there that night. Some fuckin’ soldier gunned us down..I still remember watchin’ her body tumble into the grass, the life drainin’ from her eyes. I fuckin’ clutched her dead body in my fuckin’ arms until Tommy forced me to let go. I screamed, and cried, and screamed some more. She was the best fuckin’ thing in my life, and just like that she was taken’ away from me. In a matter of fuckin’ hours my entire world was ripped from me.” He gripped the blanket tighter, yanking it towards him. “So don’t tell me i’m a fuckin’ monster when you haven’t got a fuckin’ clue what i’ve been through, and what i’ve lost. Bein’ mean and cruel is the only goddamn thing that has kept me alive all these years. It’s all i’ve ever fuckin’ known.”

You could almost hear your heart breaking as his words sank in, the tears free falling down your face still. The lump in your throat only seemed to grow bigger to the point not a single word came out despite how hard you were trying. All you wanted was to comfort him and tell him it would be okay, but nothing was coming out. Nothing. The pain on his face was almost unbearable to look at, it only made it that much harder to not forgive him straight away.

“Joel..” you croaked out, “I’m so sorry that happened, I didn’t know. I wish you would’ve told me sooner and maybe I would’ve been a little more patient with you and your rotten attitude. I’m sorry they killed her, I am. But that was years ago, Joel. Being cruel to me over Sarah won’t bring her back. Give me my stuff and I’ll get out of your hair, I’ll leave when the sun comes up. Promise.” Tightening your grip on your blanket, you gave it a tug trying to get it out of his hands.

Joel’s features immediately hardened at your words. It was one thing for him to know that nothing would ever bring Sarah back, but to hear it from you? It almost felt like a knife was being twisted deep into his heart, serrated and tearing into his flesh. “I didn’t—fuckin’ ask for your pity. You’re right. It was years ago and ain’t nothin’ gonna bring her back, right? Not when her body is 6 feet below the fuckin’ surface back in Texas. Not when i’ve got blood stained on my hands from killin’ so many goddamn people. She’s fuckin’ dust now, and men like me don’t go to Heaven. She’s fuckin’ alone up there..somehwere and i’m never gonna fuckin’ see her again!” His voice cracked as he yanked on the blanket hard, his own tears finally cascaded down his weathered cheekbones as he tugged, and tugged, and tugged.

“Do you think someone like me is going to Heaven either? Not by a long shot Joel but at some point you have to let that shit go and stop hurting yourself over it! You can’t see how well you have it here, all alone by yourself in this cabin that others would literally kill to live in. You were a sad and lonely old man before you met me and that’s exactly what you’ll be again if you truly want me to go. Tell me you want me to go.” Gripping and tugging harder on the pink material, you clenched your jaw in frustration and just wished he would stop all of this.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” He glared at you through his tears, looking at you as if you had suddenly sprouted 5 heads. “You’re good, and kind, and sweet, and—you smell of fuckin’ strawberries and honey. You’re goin’ to Heaven whether you want to or not, girlie.” He didn’t want you to go, not really. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. The walls of his lonesome cabin once haunted him but now there was a newfound light within them that only surfaced because of you. “Of course I don’t fuckin’ want you to go. I don’t want you to leave, okay? You want me to fuckin’ shout it or somethin’?! Cus’ you’re right, if you leave then i’m just a fuckin’ sad and lonely old man livin’ in the woods. If you leave, then i’m a fuckin’ nobody again.” He gave the blanket one last harsh tug and the friction and yanking of the fabric was enough for it to give way. Before he had time to release it, the threads pulled and teared with a deafening sound as the once whole blanket was now tattered and torn, much like the two people grasping onto the fabric as if their lives depended on it.

Falling back on your ass with a hard thump against the floor, you looked at the now separated blanket in each other's hands. “No…no no no…wha-what did you..” Shock washed over your body and you scrambled to your feet, snatching the other half out of Joel’s hands. You were sure he didn’t mean to do that but he didn’t know what that blanket was to you. It was the last birthday gift from your mom before the outbreak, it was all you could manage to grab from your house before they took you out of your home and into the QZ. Silent sobs came from you as you buried your face in the fabric, not wanting to realize just how fucked up things truly were. A stuffy sniffle came from your nose and you tried looking at Joel through your soaking wet eyelashes, but it was no use. The figure standing in front of you was all blurry and you gave up trying. You dropped the torn half to the floor and walked back to your room, your chest sinking with every sob. The door to your bedroom latched just loud enough for Joel to hear and you laid down in your bed, soaking your pillows with tears.

“Girlie—I’m.” It was too late. You were already gone from his bedroom as he bent down and carefully picked up the two shreds of fabric with a heavy sigh. His heart sunk as the realization of what he had just done washed over him. He knew this wasn’t just a blanket to you. He might have not known the story behind it, or who had given it to you but he knew it meant something to you, just like his one photograph of Sarah meant everything to him. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered through the darkness. He allowed himself to feel for 5 seconds before he realized that maybe there was a way that he could still fix this, that he could make things better because you deserved it. You deserved so much more than he could possibly ever give you, but he had to at least try.

So that’s how he found himself outside your bedroom door with his sewing kit tucked under the crook of his armpit. He softly knocked, resting his good ear against the door. “Girlie? Hey, can I come in please? M’so sorry ‘bout your blanket sweetheart. It was an accident I swear. I never meant to rip it..”

Not wanting to talk to him at the moment, you laid there pretending to be asleep and soon enough the door was opening, Joel making his way inside. It was too soon to face him after all of that. You didn’t want to talk about it and rehash it or explain the blanket situation to him. You fake snored lightly in hopes he’d take the hint and go but in true Joel fashion, he did the opposite.

Joel silently sank down onto the edge of your bed as he set down the two halves of the blanket and the sewing kit. “Darlin’? Are you really sleepin’ or are you just avoidin’ me now?” He whispered and when he was met with silence, he let out a sigh. “S’alright. I understand.” Using what little light he had from the pale moon creeping through the curtains, he threaded the needle through a piece of pink string. “Sarah was always tearin’ her soccer uniform. I started off with buyin’ her new ones, but a carpenters paycheck doesn’t pay all that much.” He softly spoke as he started to sew the blanket back together. “Didn’t help that I was a single dad either. Sarah’s mom left us when she was really just a baby. I had Tommy help out thank god, but I was so scared havin’ to raise her on my own. I just..I wanted to be a good dad y’know? Wanted to make sure she was always happy n’god, was that kid always happy. She had a smile that could light up an entire room. Anyway, I ended up teachin’ myself how to sew her uniform back together. It wasn’t the best job, but she’d always sit with me on the couch while I’d be sewing and I ended up teachin’ her as well. Y’know, I think she was purposely gettin’ her uniform torn up just so I’d have to fix it for her. Not that I minded at all..I’d kill to be able to sew it for her..just one more time.”

Slowly you turned around, half covering your face and your eyes on Joel’s hands as he worked his way down the blanket, stitching up the two halves back together. “She must’ve been a really good soccer player, huh?” Your hoarse voice made his ears perk up and for a split second you swear he looked away from sewing and looked at you. Your cold hand pressed against his knee in an attempt to comfort him and show him in some small gesture you’re listening to every word he’s saying.

“She—she was the best. Always wanted to be outdoors. She loved goin’ for hikes with me. Little shit always told me I had terrible knees, and bad back, which I do. She was a real jokester too. Always pickin’ at me with her uncle. Sometimes I felt like she was takin’ care of me more than I was for her. She always reminded me that I was a good dad, that I was doin’ my best. She was real fuckin’ smart too. If she—lived I wouldn’t doubt that she’d be makin’ the honor roll and goin’ off to college to change the world to be a better place. She loved animals too. Always begged me for a dog and I never gave in..wish I would have if only I had known that we weren’t goin’ to have all the time in the world together.” He sniffled softly as he looked up at you through thick lashes.

You sat up quickly and grabbed his face, rubbing your thumbs gently on his scruffy beard. “Hey-It’s okay. I’m sorry about what I said, I should’ve never said anything about Sarah. I’m glad you still have those memories of her and Joel..” You swallowed back some tears and took a deep breath. “You will always be her dad, okay? Don’t you ever forget that. She doesn’t have to be here for you to be her dad. Cherish those memories you have, I promise she remembers them.” A tear fell onto your thumb from Joel’s eye and you wiped it away before he could.

Joel gently placed his hands over your own as he subconsciously leaned into your soft touch on his skin. “Hey, you don’t—you don’t have to apologize for anythin’ okay? You have nothin’ to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry darlin.’ I’m so sorry for how I have treated you. I just..I’ve spent so many years bein’ angry at the world for takin’ her from me. Your kindness it’s—it’s not somethin’ I’m used to.” He sniffled as more tears began to fall. “I just..I’d do anythin’ to hug her one more time. To see her smile..hear her laugh. She—she haunts my dreams most nights and sometimes I wake up and it’s almost as if she’s there, and I can reach out and touch her. She’s not there. It’s just my mind playin’ a cruel trick on me. She’s gone..” he whispered and suddenly his arms were encircling around your waist, hugging you tightly to him as if he was terrified that you’d slip through his fingers too.

If you could take back anything you said to him, it would be that you would leave. There’s no way you’d ever do that to him, not now, not ever. “Oh, baby I’m sorry..” Your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into you, stroking the little curls on the back of his head as you just held him. It was one of those moments you wanted to freeze and stay in just for a little while, just to take the pain away from him long enough for him to feel normal again. What else can you say to a grieving father besides what you’ve already said? There’s nothing. All you could do was hold him and let him know you weren’t going anywhere.

baby

Joel allowed himself to be completely consumed by your soft touches as his tears freely fell after being locked away for years. A relief washed over him as the anger seemed to dissipate through his pores, as if all the hurt and poison that inhabited his veins was being sucked out, filtered through and turned to something pure. His thumbs were gently stroking the sliver of skin visible along your lower back as he slowly pulled his head back so he could look at you. The moonlight casted a pale glow across your tear stained faces as his glassy chocolate brown eyes fell upon yours. “Can I—would I..will you—” he cleared his throat that felt as raw as sandpaper from all the yelling and tears shed. “Can I..kiss you girlie?”

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you bit back a smirk, nodding quickly at his question. “Of course, Joel. Please kiss me.” The worry of sounding desperate left your body as you moved some of his hair out of his eyes so you could admire them better. There was that funny feeling again inside your tummy. Fuck feeling like there was butterflies, it was a goddamn zoo in your tummy.

He leaned in slowly, the bridge of his nose lightly nudging against yours. Suddenly he was back in highschool, about to share his first kiss with his crush and his palms began to sweat, his fingers trembling along your skin as his lashes fluttered shut. His lips just barely ghosted against your own before he kissed you fully, slotting his lips between yours as he pulled you in closer.

Since the very first night, this is what you’ve wanted. Underneath all the sexual tension and thoughts you had about him, you just wanted to know the real Joel. The soft one who messes with you about catching worms and saves you from frogs and the one who talks to you about his daughter who means the absolute world to him, even from the heavens. You grabbed the back of his head gently and pulled him as close as you could, deepening the kiss.

Joel allowed himself to kiss you for a few moments longer, his hands splayed across your back fully now before he slowly pulled away, forehead gently resting along your own. “Listen..I can’t promise you I can be perfect. What I can promise you is that I will do my best to..learn your kindness. To see the world through your own eyes in hopes that..I can be good to you, always. All I ask is that you find it in your heart to hold patience with me. Guide me, and I’ll always protect you, n’keep you safe from the world. Okay?”

“And I’ll try to learn from you as I go so maybe one day you can trust me to protect you from the world because who’s gonna protect you if I can’t?” You nudge your head against his and smile at him.

Joel couldn’t help but crack a small smile that showed the faint crinkles in the corner of his eyes, and the indentation of a dimple along his cheek. “I’ll teach you how to be a real survivalist girl. How’s that sound to you girlie?”

“That sounds pretty damn good to me, Joel. It’s getting kinda late, should we get some sleep since we have no idea what tomorrow brings us?” You didn’t want to sleep alone tonight but you thought you shouldn’t push him. You lifted the blanket and held it to his chest, “Here, you sleep with this, I know how much you like it.”

Joel was already bringing his arms around the underside of your thighs and gently lifting you from the strewn comforter. “No need for that sweetheart. Will..you sleep with me tonight? Only if you feel comfortable doing so..”

You practically leap out of his arms and start heading to his room, “Yes oh my god I’m so glad you asked, I did not want to sleep alone!” You were already in his bed and tucked in by the time he made it in his room.

Joel watched with pure amusement in his eyes when you leapt out of his arms. He did not expect you to be this enthusiastic over his request, but he couldn’t lie over the fact that finding you already tucked under the covers absolutely made his heart swell out of his chest like a balloon. He plopped down on the bed, nearly squishing you with his body weight as his fingers found purchase around your waist and lightly tickled your sides. The giggle he elicited from your lips was contagious and had him chuckling as you playfully pushed him onto his side. Soon enough his arms were secured around your waist with his chest pressed firmly against your back. His lips were gently ghosting across the shell of your ear as he whispered, “goodnight, my survivalist girl.”

[darkwolf76]

I am coming to your inbox as a menace asking for Deirdra angst from the hidden pregnancy prompts: "You robbed our child of a parent and me of being one."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Deidre startled, not expecting anyone in the godswood at such a late hour, especially not with the revelry of feast going on inside. He emerged from the dark like a specter. The white, greys, and silvers of his armor and cloak glowed in the dim light of the crescent moon, almost as bright as the bark of the weirwood Deidre knelt before in supplication. "Criston?" His name came out rough, heavy on her tongue after she had spent so many months gritting her teeth to prevent it from leaving her lips.

"Those children," Criston croaked. "They are not his." Deidre could not make out the expression on his shadowed face, for he would not look at her. His whole appearance seemed wretched, his black hair wild from his fingers running through it too many times. His shoulders slumped, and his head bowed towards the ground, as if he was ready to cave in on himself. He seemed to sway, unsteady, but his words held a certainty that caused Deidre's stomach to twist in anxiety and discomfort.

Should she deny it? Would it matter either way? Her hands shook as she brushed them against the red velvet of her kirtle, blood from the cut on her finger no doubt smearing on the skirt. She turned her face back to the weeping face of the heart tree for answers she knew it would not give. The silence in her mind and between them felt deafening. The gods and her knight both waited for her to speak.

She rose slowly to face him, emotions jumbled and raw. "My husband did not claim them as his. They were his father's, born around the time of his death. Lord Blackwood didn't even know they existed. We simply are caring for them."

"The Queen questioned me, a few moons back. She asked if any men had been giving you any undue attention. She said you'd been hurt, that she was trying to find answers."

His quiet words each felt like a stone in Deidre's stomach, increasing her panic and discomfort. She twisted the twin rings on her fingers. "You did not speak of us, did you? Criston, it could--"

"Would I be standing here now if I had?" His voice found more strength and volume as his head snapped up. His eyes appeared black in the night, narrowed and accusatory, a wild hint to them. "But why would she ask me such things? Why did I not hear about any of this from you?"

"You did not hurt me!" Deidre shook her head, desperation choking her. "And I did not want you to be harmed. Criston, I just wanted to keep you safe."

"So they are mine then?" His question hung in the air between them as they stared at one another. The anger in his eyes was tinged with desperation. It was the glistening of unshed tears in those eyes that freed Deidre of the hesitancy that held her voice hostage.

"They are." She felt bitterness and release to finally utter the truth to someone, a secret that she'd kept so close to her chest the past few months.

Criston dropped to his knees at her words, a sob bursting from his chest. Deidre found her feet moving forward of their own volition as she knelt next to him, her fingers twitching until they found their home again, cradling his jaw. After months of feeling cold, with only the briefest flashes of heat, she felt warmth again at the pressure of his strong, rough palm covering her hand, holding it desperately as if he was afraid she might disappear.

Tears ran freely down the stoic knight's cheeks. Deidre felt her own cheeks wet. "You should have told me," he rasped. She let out her own sob at his broken words. She shook her head, not able to respond with all the emotions and thoughts warring within her. She had so much she wanted to say to him, that she should have said to him, but none of it would come now that she had the chance.

He grabbed her, and she let him draw her in. She crumpled against his strong frame as both their bodies shook with quiet cries, and they wet the other's cheeks and hair with their tears. She curled one hand into the familiar gap between his breastplate and pauldron and ran her fingers through his hair, messing it further. His hands found their home back on her waist and in her brown curls.

The comfort of the familiar embrace settled her tears enough for her to speak again. "I wanted to keep you safe. I know better than most the price you might have had to pay if we were caught," she whispered against his chest.

He tensed, his fingers flexing at her hip as he replied. "I should have been given the choice to decide what I was willing to pay." He withdrew from her a bit so he could look down at her with a frown, a now dulled anger in his eyes. "Did I not prove enough that your love was worth the price of my white cloak?"

Deidre furrowed her brow at the accusation laid bare in his words. "You would have paid with your head Criston, not your just your cloak, and I would have still been without you in the end."

"I would not have allowed that happen." Criston shook his head, fingers tightening slightly in her hair. "Had you had faith in me, I would've found a way for us and our children."

Deidre fought the annoyance and anger stirring in her gut, for she knew Criston was still in shock, while she had had months accept the harsh reality of their situation. "We do not live in a song where love and heroes always triumph. I would not have my words be the cause of your downfall."

"Deidre, you robbed our children of a parent and me of being one!" He snapped, the anger flaring in his dark eyes. His grip on her hip became almost painful. The surprise at his sudden outburst caused her to pull against his grasp. He must have sensed her discomfort, for his hands immediately withdrew from her, as if she had burned him. He quickly stood and stepped away. "Forgive me." He bowed his head and looked away from her, flexing his hands before he offered a hand to help her up.

Deidre hesitated for a moment before accepting his help. They stood in silence, neither willing to let go but unsure if they could draw closer again. "I am sorry," Deidre whispered, sorrow blooming in her at the despair on Criston's face.

[watchingyoufromthestars]

hiiiii I’m unsure if this is your inbox or not but you said tragedy that is the close boys and I just had to-

I recently got my friend to start listening to it and she hates Glenn. Full out hates him with a passion. I keep telling her that the plot line for him is really good but I can’t say the same for Taylor Swift (maybe that one, idk you might know in this context) because Taylor never *learned* and long term to be fair, neither did Glenn really if you look past his death. And I think that’s the core of their tragedy, starting even with Glenn’s whole family line is that *pride* and the unwillingness to learn and while I cannot stand the characters as people, they are such a generationally wounded clan. Anyways, hopefully that’s an acceptable ramble 😅

As much as I love Glenn, it’s way too easy to see why other people hate him. He’s such a flawed character but that’s part of why I like him so much. It’s why the memory scenes in 2-45 Hell or High Father hurt so much: the high hopes that maybe, just maybe, Glenn learned something, but ultimately he’s unchanged in his ways. And sometimes people never change. And why would he have changed, honestly? He had his life ripped away from him, but it looped back around to something of a second chance and he got it back in one way or another. Nicky is still his son - albeit not biologically in t2 - and Morgan is alive again.

And with Taylor, it hurts because we know Nicky wasn’t really given much of a choice in some of the actions he took. It’s fair for Taylor to be upset with his father being absent in his life, but for Nicky it was a matter of life or death to leave Cass and Taylor. It’s a complicated situation, but I don’t think it would’ve resulted in anything good for Nicky to stay on Earth.

I think it’s influenced a lot by Freddie’s personality as well, but Pride is the ultimate sin of the Close family line, which leads to destruction and an ending where they’ve never truly been close at all. And sometimes life just doesn’t give you that happy ending, whether it be fate and circumstance or you never worked for it in the first place.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Backseat Comfort

Summary - Part 11 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure)

Warnings - slight angst, mentions of pregnancy, implied smut

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

You don’t know how long you both stand there in silence before Bobby finally cuts in. “Hell, this is childish! You two need to talk like real adults who are planning a future together. If you don’t start talking I’ll lock the pair of you in the panic room until you do. I haven’t seen two hunters, hell I haven’t seen two people so right for each other for a very long time. You two have a chance at something that very few hunters can only ever dream about and I’ll be damned if I watch you let that slip through your fingers because you’re scared!”

You chance a glace at Dean but you notice he’s not looking at you anymore, he’s glaring at Bobby.

“I can’t believe you let her come here in her state! What if a demon had found her while she was driving here?”

“Last I checked she’s a hunter and an adult and can make her own decisions and look after herself. She’s not dying, Dean, she’s pregnant.”

“All the more reason she needs to be more careful,” Dean spits out, his eyes darting at you quickly, “any number of demons would just love to get their hands on the newest Winchester.”

“You think I don’t know that, Dean? You think I’d deliberately put this baby in danger? I was careful! You can’t keep me locked up in our bedroom like some damsel in distress! Especially if you’re gonna walk out on me!”

Dean immediately softens and takes a step closer to you. “I’m sorry for walking out,” he whispers. “I was scared and hurting and I hurt you. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I just wanted to find a way to make it all better, so you don’t have to worry anymore.”

You close the little gap between you, as you reach for his hand, squeezing softly. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry too. I never meant to hurt you, I want to have a family with you, I’m just scared.”

Dean takes advantage of your hand in his and pulls you close and wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I know. I promise I won’t walk out like that again. I’m here for you. We’re gonna get through this together. There isn’t much good in this life, but the one good thing I have is you! When I picture myself happy, it’s with you and a couple of little ones running around.”

Tears fill your eyes as you rest your head against Dean’s and melt further into his embrace.

“And the two of you idjits were about to walk out in this?”

You looked over at Bobby and mouthed a “thank you”. 

Bobby left you and Dean alone in the kitchen to supposedly go back to research. The second you’re alone Dean lifts you up as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He rests you on the bench and brings his lips to yours. You pull him closer as his lips trail down your neck. 

“How about we get outta here? The doctor did say sex was fine…” Dean whispers in your ear before pulling your ear lobe between his teeth softly.

“You’re gonna hate my answer.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Dean placed one last passionate kiss on your lips before pulling back and helping you down. 

“You guys better not be getting up to any funny business in my kitchen!”

You giggle and hide your face in Dean’s chest. “Come on, sweetheart. We got work to do.”

“You’re gonna let me help?”

“I’m not gonna take you hunting, but you can read books. In fact, you’re damn good at that, among other things,” he says with a wink.

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’m your dork.”

“Whatever, come on.”

You spend the next few hours making your way through Bobby’s books until your stomach growls. Dean’s hand immediately makes its way to your stomach. “The baby’s hungry, huh?”

You put your hand over Dean’s. “How about you take your baby momma out on a date?”

“You’re so much more than that. But I think I can do that. Bobby, you want us to bring you anything back?”

“Nah, I stocked up already.”

“Alright then. My lady?” Dean says as he stands up and offers his hand to you. You take it and he helps you up. 

“Good luck with the research, Bobby. We’ll be back soon.”

“Have fun, love birds.”

Dean leads you out to Baby and opens the door for you. “So that sweet ride’s yours, huh?”

“I may have borrowed it…”

“It suits you. Although-“

“Baby’s still my favourite.”

“Good. I plan on spending some time with you in her this afternoon.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m a gentleman though, so food first.”

He drives to a diner, picking up two burgers, fries, and pie. And then drives out to a remote field. You enjoy the food in the comfort of the Impala with some soft rock music filling the space. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat fried food.”

“The second you start to feel sick you let me know.”

“I will.”

Once you finish eating you both get out and go for a walk around the field hand-in-hand. When you get back to the car Dean lifts you up onto the hood and kisses you. “Please just don’t tell me to stop this time.”

“Deal.”

“Thank god,” he breathes out as he kisses down your neck. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer as your hands file through his hair. 

“Dean...”

“I know, come on,” he says as he lifts you up and carries you around to the back seat and lays you down. He climbs in on top of you, holding his weight up on his forearms. This was far from the first time the two of you had ended up squished together in the back seat of this car. You’d learnt how to manipulate the space well. You push his flannel off his shoulders as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt. As he pushes your shirt up his fingers splay out over your stomach. You help take your shirt off the rest of the way as he kisses down your stomach. You file your fingers through his hair pushing him down to where you need him most. But he resists and sits up.

“This feels wrong. The last time we were together we were fighting. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Dean, baby. Please. You begged me not to stop you, so now don’t you stop on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Have I ever had a problem saying no to you before?”

“I guess not.”

“We do need to talk, Dean. But I know we will do that later. Right now though, I need you to get back over here and finish what you started.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean lays back on top of you attaching his lips to yours as he reaches around and unclasps your bra. As he kisses his way along your jaw towards your neck he whispers, “you’re so sexy when you’re bossy.”

“In that case…stop teasing and put that sexy face between my legs already.”

He groans against your neck before following your orders.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You lay on Dean’s bare chest catching your breath and calming down, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your back. After a while, you decide to break the comfortable silence. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you about Sam suspecting the pregnancy, and for talking to him instead of you about my fears. It’s no excuse but I really just didn’t want to hurt you. Ever since I told you and we took that first test you’ve been really optimistic and I needed that. But I also needed to talk about my fears, and I was worried if I told you, you’d lose your optimism.”

You feel Dean nod above you before he reaches down to turn your gaze towards his face. “I get it, sweetheart, I do. I’m sorry for overreacting, I just … It hurt, you know? Especially just the thought of you not wanting this baby as much as I do. Even though, I know your reasons are valid.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it, I’m just scared.”

“I get that now, and I’m scared too. How could I not be? Most people I care about end up dead and I’m terrified of putting you or our child in danger or losing you. I’m only optimistic in our little bubble.”

“We’ll find a way. Even if we have to stay in the bunker. And if they’re brought up the way you and Sam were, it’s not the end of the world. The two of you ended up great men.”

“You promised. I can’t bring this child up a hunter, I won’t. Sam and I aren’t fine. We’re messed up beyond repair. I have nightmares almost every night, especially when I’m not with you. I don’t want our child to drink just to function, the way I do. If we’re gonna do this, I want better for them.”

“I know, so do I. But, I’m just saying I’d rather raise them and keep them safe in this life than try to pretend it’s all fine and then have them end up injured or dead. I don’t want to bury or burn my own child, Dean.”

“Nor do I. I just wish our lives were different.”

“But then I may not have ever met you. And that would be tragic. I love you, Dean Winchester. We’re gonna get through this together, you’ve been saying that all along and I believe you.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A couple of hours later you’re sitting on Bobby’s couch. The men each have a beer in their hand while you’re stuck sipping on a soda. Dean’s free hand is drawing patterns on your thigh, while he no doubt reminisces on your earlier endeavours. You rest your head on his shoulder and start to doze off. 

“Looks like I should get this one up to bed.”

“Not quite the stamina you’re used to huh? Surviving on three to four hours of sleep a week.”

“She’s got plenty of stamina, believe me. But yeah, she does need more sleep now. And I gotta say I'm kinda glad about it. She needed an excuse to slow down.”

“I’ve talked to her about the whole thing. What’s your take on this new chapter? I see you proposed.”

“Yeah, it was an impulse thing. I love her of course. But I know marriage is off the table, I’m legally dead. But it’s a symbol. A promise. I want a future with her whatever it takes. I didn’t expect we’d be starting down the path quite so soon, but we’ll figure it out.”

“I’ve never met many people that end up with their soulmate. I believe your parents were. And if I had to place bets, I’d say you two are too.”

“I want to believe that.”

“With everything else, we’ve seen, why not? You both deserve something good. Anyway, you should get her up to bed, and get some sleep yourself while you can.”

“Yeah, alright, Bobby. Night.” 

Dean placed his beer and your soda on the side table before leaning down to pick you up bridal style and carrying you up to bed. Once he lays you down he helps you out of your boots and jeans so you’re more comfortable. He then strips down himself and climbs into the bed beside you wrapping you up in his arms. You snuggle closer and place a light kiss on his chest before drifting back off to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck

[sephirthoughts]

2 and 5 for the ask meme please

yayyy inbox games!!! dee is getting so tagged in one of these

2. an excerpt of my writing that makes me laugh

i happen to think i am very funny, but only a few things i've written have made me actually laugh aloud. among them are pretty much every interaction between tom and fred in the fic i wrote in my friend's universe. actually the whole fic is pretty good even if you don't know the original universe. 😂 the scene i excerpted is basically a normal office situation but these two idiots are trying to keep their co-worker from leaving work early

Today, the two materialized in front of his desk, yet again. This time to ask for his draft picks for the office fantasy foosball league. They even came armed with an elaborate, full-color bracket, drawn on a huge piece of white paper, pinned to a corkboard. All the available players were represented by sticky-notes with their names on them. “I’ve never heard of the office having a fantasy foosball league,” he said doubtfully. “Actually, I never heard of there being a pro-foosball team.” “Well, it’s definitely real and not something we made up,” Fred assured him. “Look at the big board!” Felix was looking at it. He couldn’t not look at it. It was currently blocking his path to the exit. But…they’d clearly worked very hard on it, so he may as well humor them. He’d just pick some players at random and then get out of here. “Ok, I guess I’ll take Peter Venkman and…Egon Spengler?” Felix gave them a look. “Are you guys serious?” “It’s a coincidence,” Fred said deadpan. “Yeah, lot of people named Peter and Egon in the world, don’t think about it.” Tom urged. “We gotta give everyone in the office a chance to play, so make it snappy.” “This one says Marty McFly.” “Ooh, fantasy…foosball?” Marjorie said, pausing as she passed by. “Is that a real thing?” “Beat it, Marjorie! This doesn’t concern you!” Tom said, trying to block the board, by standing in front of it with his arms spread. Marjorie planted her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “I just heard you say you were giving everyone in the office a chance to play! Are you excluding me because I’m a woman?” “No, it’s because you’re an accounting nerd, nerd!” Fred fired back. “No nerds allowed!” “What about Felix?” she retorted. “He’s a programmer. He’s like, a thousand times nerdier than me! Look at him, he’s probably still a virgin!” “Aw…come on,” Felix said, to which no one paid any attention.

5. an excerpt of my writing with a description i'm proud of

oh man this is harder. i don't think my descriptions are my strong suit. i'm proud of this one, though! i think it's pretty good! it's from a fic i wrote for Death Stranding and i just now realized is four years old

Towers of ice rose like jagged teeth from the black ocean, where they creaked and cracked with each swell and lull of its surface. The waves broke and dispersed into foam across the slate-colored sand, drawing back to rise and fall and break again, performing the steps of their endless dance with the serene forbearance of infinity. At the shoreline, an old man stood, gazing out over the timeless sea. Though years had stripped the mane from his hoary head, gnarled his hands and mottled his skin, he stood unbowed, his thin, bony shoulders thrown back and his bald head held high. For he had lived a life upon which he could indeed look back with well-earned pride. He had lived honestly and simply. Kept his own by the labor of his hands, and shared generously with others from what bounty nature bestowed. He had given much and taken little, loved and lost and suffered the slings and arrows of fortune without bitterness of heart. Though he had done no great deed of heroism, nor fought valiantly in any war, he would take his place among his fathers unashamed.

[lostdreamr-blog1]

The Last Goodbye

Pairings: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Mentions of death

Requested: Yes!! Thank you so much @mrstabbymcwolfy for the idea! Needed this to get me out of my writing slump. Hope you enjoy it!

A/N: This one is a bit more depressing than what I usually write, but I hope you like it! As always, my inbox is open for you all!

The days always seemed darker when there was a funeral. The normal vibrant colors were duller, almost like the world had a grey tint to it. Wind seemed to cut through your body, chilling you to the core. Cemeteries were never a place of happiness, but today dread and misery seemed to fill the air.

The sea of uniforms gathered around a casket was a telling sign that someone sacrificed their life for their country. It was an eerie sight seeing that many men and women standing with fixed postures, not daring to move a muscle.

Jake walked up to the small wooden stand and placed the papers down he spent all night working on. Talking wasn’t something he ever had a problem with, but words failed him last night. He just couldn’t figure out the right things to say in a moment like this.

He took a deep breath and prayed he could get through this.

“They say if you fly long enough you’ll eventually lose a wingman. But I’ll be one of the first to admit that this one came faster than I thought it would. Top Gun pilots are a different breed. We fly like we have everything to prove and nothing to lose. The thought of dying isn’t something we think of often and to be quite honest, invincible is the word we like to use. We are the best of the best. Nothing is supposed to bring us down.”

He took a few breaths before he started the next part.

“Y/N was one of the best pilots I have ever had the privilege of flying with. She was tough as nails, but always found a way to better those around her. She could light up a room with a simple smile. Get out of trouble without even trying. But most of all, she made you feel like you mattered.”

The crowd was silent as he turned the page.

“Phoenix lost someone that she considered a sister. Someone that she always turned to for advice or a shoulder to cry on after a hard day. Bob lost the first friend he made a Top Gun. Everyone in that bar had ignored him except for Y/N. Coyote lost his pool partner, someone who always led them to victory. And Rooster lost his childhood best friend. Someone that will never be replaced. But for me, I lost the love of my life and I’m not sure where to go from here.”

Jake turned to face the casket and spoke his next words directly to you.

“I love you so much, Sweetheart. I always pictured telling you those words in a different way. Never in a thousand years did I think you would be gone before I got the courage to actually say it out loud.”

His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to keep it together.

“You were walking sunshine, never failing to brighten anyone’s day. The amount of compassion you had for others is something I only wish to have a fraction of. But seeing you like this, having to burry you in the ground is something I will never come back from. God there are some many things I wish I could change, but life has this cruel way of showing you regrets without getting to fix them.”

Jake brushed the few tears that managed to escape and shook his head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t the person you needed me to be. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop this from happening. But most importantly, I’m sorry that your life was cut so short that you barely got to experience living it.”

There was more he had written down on his sheets of paper, but there was no chance he was going to make it through the rest. He walked away from the stand after putting his wings on your casket.

The service went on, but he wasn’t paying attention. Gun shots pulled his attention from you, but it was a reminder that this was all coming to an end. Not too long after the service was finished, rain started to fall, causing most people to retreat to their cars.

Everyone but Jake.

The rain was fitting for how this day was going. His Ma once told him that it only rained when someone truly special was going to be missed. Almost like the world was grieving with us.

He sat in front of that headstone, rain soaking every part of him, until Bradley walked up.

“She wouldn’t want you to be like this. You know damn well if she saw you now, she would be yelling up a storm.” Jake nodded his head, knowing his friend was right.

“I don’t know how to move on. Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever move on.” He rubbed his hands over his face, tears mixing in with the rain.

“It wasn’t supposed to be her.” And it was true. Y/N took the missile to save Bradley, something no one saw coming.

Bradley was at a loss for words but knelt to help Jake up. Jake let him guide him into a standing position but couldn’t peel his eyes away from your name. Walking away from that headstone meant he was walking away for good. This chapter of his life was done, but it was your story that was complete.

There were no more smiles that were saved just for him. No more laughing at his awful jokes. No more blushing when Jake flirted with you, riling you up for his own pure joy.

No chance of a future together.

Jake took one step away from you and he could feel his heart breaking all over again.

“Goodbye, Sweetheart. I’ll see you again soon.”

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading!!

[juletheghoul]

hi yuli! for your writing challenge what would a meet cute with peña be like? 🩷

Yaziiii 🩷

Ouu I love this - hopefully you like what I came up with!

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pairing: Javier x F!reader

warnings: panic, elevator phobia, Javi's hands need a whole warning tbh

--

The elevator doors opened and you could see in your peripheral that someone tall had walked in, you couldn't focus on them though, not with work emails flooding your inbox.

A terrifying creak sounds somewhere overhead and before you have a chance to look up the elevator comes to a halt.

No, no please not now!

"Fuck." The man in the elevator says it out loud but you can barely hear him over the pounding in your ears, and the rapid exhales of breath leaving your open mouth.

Bile rises, your heart pounds and the walls start to close in.

"Hey, are you alright?" He speaks to you, but the floor is coming up to meet you- "Hey!" He raises his voice before his hands shoot out cat-quick to stop you from losing a few teeth. "Look at me." His voice books no argument, and a pair of focused, intense, brown eyes find yours in the haze of your terror. "Give me your hand, here-" He places it on his chest, "Breathe with me. In-"

You do your best to breathe with him, focusing on filling your lungs with air.

"Good, now out." He lets it all go and do the same, syncing your inhales and exhales with the world's kindest stranger. After a few minutes, you feel your heart start to slow, and the sense starts to come back.

"Jesus, I am so sorry-" You try to pull your hand away, but he holds both it, and your gaze.

"Don't apologize, you're good. I can feel that your heart has slowed a little, you okay to stand on your own?" It only registers then how close he is, how strong he is to hold onto you, how devastatingly handsome.

"Uh-yeah, yes. Thank you-I am a little calmer for now." You laugh nervously, "Hopefully they open this death-trap soon and-" The elevator makes a fool out of you for the second time, interrupting you with it's continued decent towards the lobby of this godforsaken building. He smiles, and your heart races again, but not out of fear.

"Well, looks like it heard your prayer." He steps away, but not by much. The door opens and you both shuffle out awkwardly.

"Well, thank you for saving my life." You try to sound breezy and nonchalant, but you mean every word.

"My pleasure, hopefully I'll see you again-" He waits and you give him your name, "Nice to meet you, I'm Javier."

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