#also for most of my life I have barely been able to break 1.5K in the stuff I write so it is a big jump forward *for me*

[obstinatecondolement]

Literally hilarious to me that as of now The longest fic I have ever posted to AO3 is a wantonly self-indulgent thing for a miniscule fandom that I wrote and edited in three frantic days almost entirely off the cuff and not any of the things i had fucking outlines and spreadsheets for. And that's overall, not just oneshots or just complete stuff. Number one with a bullet.

And, like... maybe one other person will ever read it, lol. Which is not a woe is me thing, I really do think it's pretty funny. But, again, no one can say I'm not committed to doing my own thing.

[immrbrightsideeee]

I posted 12,266 times in 2022

297 posts created (2%)

11,969 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nightimestar

@viva-la--resistance

@impala67-aka-baby

@fandomfoodiedancer

@stressedsnake

I tagged 562 of my posts in 2022

#delete later - 44 posts

#asks - 24 posts

#random rambles - 15 posts

#nickapocalypse - 9 posts

#cagepocalypse - 8 posts

#maneskin - 8 posts

#nick cage - 7 posts

#our flag means death - 5 posts

#goncharov - 5 posts

#umbrella academy - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#this is a really interesting thing for me (christian) to read cause like these are some solid points? that really makes sense? i'm confused

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

nick, where's the treasure?

Oh, please. I am the national treasure

62 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#4

Hiiiii!

Are you open for a tiny request, Love? It's cool if you're not but in case you are (and that's entirely too many words there lol), could you do something fluffy with Remington? Like a movie night with lots of cuddles and fun and comfort? I need a hug lol

I also wouldn't say no to some smut but that's your decision

Anyway, you're amazing <3

Love you

OK I'm sorry it took so long!!! Anyway there might be a fluffy smutty part 2 idk :)

Movie Night

Remington Leith x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Summary: Remington and Y/N have a fun movie night

It had been a week. A long week. The kind of long, endless week that had you lying face down on the couch groaning the moment you got home. You wanted your snuggliest PJs, your best friends, boyfriend, movies and some pizza. But people were busy. And there was work to do. And cleaning. And a tonne of other responsibilities falling down onto your shoulders, and you were exhausted.

When your cat came up to give you an affectionate headbutt, you couldn't help but think why couldn't life for humans be as simple as a house cat? You get fed, loved, you play all day and night and do what you want? It was while you were pondering philosophies and cats that you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. You frowned. Please don't be anyone important, please don't be stressful, please don't...

Oh. It was your boyfriend, Remington. You shuffled yourself around on the couch, rolling over and barely avoiding tumbling off as you answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, how are you doing?” Remington's voice was a comforting sound on the other end of the phone.

“I'm good, you??” You shot back immediately, so quick that Remington got suspicious.

“..Riiight, I don't believe that but I'm not gonna push you right now. I'm actually not doing so good,” he said, slowly, “Today has just been shitty, and anyway I was wondering if you're free?”

“Ah, yeah, when?”

“Um, now? It's OK if not, I get that there's a lot going on it's just that, I dunno, I miss you.” His voice was so soft and sweet and you could almost picture him scrunching up his face a little and rubbing the back of his neck. The image melted your heart. How was he so impossibly cute all the time?

“I'm free, and I miss you too, trust me.”

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had seen each other, Remington was busy writing and recording his and his brother's new album, and you were busy with work and family responsibilities. There wasn't much time to see each other, and it was breaking both of your hearts. But you tried not to think about it, you talked every day anyway. But seeing him tonight would definitely revive you.

“So, got any ideas?” you asked, changing the mood to something lighter.

“Would it be OK if I come over? I just feel like staying in, but I also can't stand being away from you any longer, and I really can't handle another hour alone with my brothers.” Remington laughed a little and you smiled without meaning to, only able to imagine the nonsense the boys had gotten up to that day, let alone week.

“'Course! Just, um, give me a few, OK? I'm a bit of a mess at the moment.” You thought of the pile of clothes all around your room and the stack of dishes.

“Aw baby, you know I don't care about any of that, but if it makes you feel better would half an hour be good?”

“Yeah, it should be.” There was silence as the conversation started to end, then you spoke. “Oh! Wait, would it be annoying if I ask you to bring some dinner? I don't have it in me to cook.”

“Sure! What do you feel like?”

“Ah, surprise me, I trust you.” You smiled into the phone and could just about feel him smiling back. He let out a slight laugh of delight and you both said your good byes and got ready.

See the full post

77 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

#3

this has the same vibes as this

112 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#2

nick caged

129 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

139 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[capsironunderoos]

Please, Come Home

DINCEMBER - December 11 - “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: Din takes a job just before Life Day and wakes up to a message from his family.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: A ~lil~ spice, if you really, really squint... other than that just a really angsty Din Djarin, and sad times spent apart from his cyare.

Author’s Note: I’m slowly catching up on my Dincember prompts! Tomorrow is my last day in the classroom before Christmas break, so I’ll be able to really catch up soon. Again, this is pretty short, but I hope you guys enjoy!

Here’s the previous prompt: DINCEMBER - December 9 - “Let It Snow”

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

It’s quiet on the Crest tonight, somber almost. 

Din hasn’t had a moment like this to himself for too many rotations to count, so he sits in the pilot’s seat, the Crest on autopilot, arms crossed and helmet-clad head leaned back onto the headrest as he watches the stars pass by. 

He’s been by himself for a few weeks now, but he doesn’t find the same peace in it that he used to. 

Before you, and the child, he longed for moments spent on his ship, amongst the stars to just… be. 

Now, he finds more peace when he’s sitting in his cabin with you and the child, snuggled up on the couch and under blankets as you quietly read aloud. 

Over the past few months, Din had started to take less odd jobs. You’d both been saving credits for awhile so that the two of you could take a break, spend some time with Grogu, and see a little bit more of the galaxy. 

This was his last big job for awhile, and he’d been tasked to hunt down a prince who had made a run for it during the middle of his own wedding ceremony. 

Din had wanted to turn it down at first, because he hadn’t been presented with any leads or a tracking fob, and he knew that the job posed the possibility of running into his family’s Life Day celebrations. 

You had encouraged him to take it, though, telling him that as soon as he returned you would have the bags packed and the three of you could embark on your adventure. 

Plus, the reward for the safe return of the prince had been very steep, and neither of you could think of a reason to pass that up. 

Over the weeks you’d been separated, Din had been receiving and sending holograms to you and the child. 

Some of them were silly, as you were often interrupted by Grogu impatiently jumping into the hologram to show his papa a new drawing he had made, or to model a new robe you had bought for him in the small marketplace just below the cabin. 

Some of the holograms were short but sweet, consisting of you giving Din a brief recap of your day, or of Din telling you good morning and that he loved you. 

Others were reserved for late, dark nights on the Crest, when Din missed you so much that he was forced to work with the videos you sent specifically for his eyes only. 

There were also one or two transmissions that he hated to think about. 

You had sent one to him late one night as he slept, when he knew you should have been resting as well, crying silently in your shared bedroom. You told him how much you missed him, how hard your day had been, and how all you wanted was to crawl into bed beside him and have him tell you everything would be okay. 

When he watched the message the next morning he found himself crying as well, finally acknowledging the fact that being apart for so long was taking its toll on the both of you. 

Unfortunately, he was unsure as to how much longer he would need to be away before he could return home, and just as he had suspected, Life Day had arrived in the blink of an eye. 

So, he sits now, in the pilot’s seat of the Crest, watching the stars as he awaits your transmission. 

He knows there is one coming, because Grogu will beg to show Din the new toys he had opened up, as if you and Din hadn’t been the ones to buy them. 

He smiles at the thought, knowing that he is waiting solely because you decided to spoil the child this Life Day, as if he wasn’t already spoiled enough. 

It would take at least an hour for him to open all of his presents, if not longer. 

Din finds himself laughing at the thought of Grogu becoming more enamored with the wrapping paper than the toy itself, as he had done in the past, and he can see the frustration, and love, written on your face as a result. 

At that thought, he feels a soft pang in his chest. 

He wants nothing more than to be there with you, sitting on the floor as your back rests against his chest, the both of you smiling at your kid as he has the time of his life. 

Din can almost feel the warmth radiating from the fireplace, and he can almost smell the fresh pine decorations and the Hoth chocolate you’ve made. 

Before he is granted the opportunity to slip further into his daydream, his console lights up with the familiar reminder that he has received a hologram. 

Din wastes no time in sitting up in his seat and clicking the button for the message to play. 

Suddenly, you are projected before him, the child in your lap as you both seem to look right at him. 

“Hello my love!” 

You call out, and he chuckles as Grogu squeals out a greeting as well. 

“We have officially opened up most of our presents, haven’t we?” 

You ask the child sitting in your lap, and he laughs at the way you make your voice sound funny when you ask him your question. 

“Of course we saved some for when you return, Din. I want you to see him when he opens his presents, okay? I want you to have those memories too.” 

Your voice wavers as you address him, and Din resituates himself in his seat to keep himself from focusing on the longing in your voice. You clear your throat and he is pulled back into the moment. 

“Okay, Grogu, show your papa your favorite gift,” at your words, the child lifts a stuffed animal from under his robe, proudly holding it out to the hologram. 

You laugh and so does Din. 

Grogu is obviously very proud to be showing his dad his new toy, which just so happens to be in the shape of a Sorgan frog. 

“Okay, now go get what I told you about,” you request through your laughter, and Grogu is quick to drop the toy in your lap and scramble down to run out of the frame. 

When he disappears you continue to watch him, to make sure he is executing whatever plan the two of you had concocted correctly. 

Din takes the opportunity to observe you for a moment. 

He notes that your hair has gotten longer, and that your smile still makes his insides weak. 

He also notices the way you fold your hands together in your lap to rest atop Grogu’s toy, and he thinks about how he would give anything to be sitting with you, holding your hands and pressing each knuckle to his mouth as you both wait on the kid to return. 

He thinks about how you would smile up at him, and how you would plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, just out of sight from Grogu. 

“You got it?” You question, and his thoughts return back to the hologram. 

Grogu babbles a response, and Din notices that he is pushing a box into the frame. 

When he is satisfied that the box is where it needs to be, he turns to you for confirmation. You nod excitedly at him and he scrambles back into your lap, his small eyes and ears just barely visible over the top of the present. 

“We have something for you to open up too, so we need you to come home soon.” 

Din can’t seem to focus on the present clearly meant for him, as all he can see are the tears that have begun making their way down your face. 

“Please come home, Din. We miss you. I miss you. I’m not sure how much longer…” 

Your voice trails off when the kid looks up at you as a result of the sudden quiver in your voice. 

“Tell papa goodbye, Happy Life Day, and that you love him,” you prompt, and Grogu manages to string together a couple of coos before he scrambles back out of your lap to go play with his new presents. 

“Seriously, Din, I miss you. Please come home soon, I cannot stand loving you from afar. And I do, I love you across any expanse in the galaxy, but I want to love you here, in our home. I see how hard you’re working to provide for both me and Grogu, but I want you here to experience that life you make with us.” 

You fall quiet for a moment as you ponder your words. 

“I love you, Din Djarin, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Happy Life Day.” 

With that, you blow a kiss into the hologram and the transmission stops. 

Din presses the correct buttons to stop the projection and to archive the transmission before he begins setting up his space to send his own. 

As the Crest prepares the proper technology, Din begins to talk to you as if you were there. 

“I am coming home soon, cyare. I will not rest until I hold you in my arms once more.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember: DINCEMBER - December 14 - Cold

[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer I

Part 02: That James Deam Daydream

series masterlist | previous part

summary: After the car accident, you haven’t been able to get Rafe out of your mind but hasn’t he already caused enough trouble?

a/n: With the semester ending I have a lot more free time so I plan on updating this series more consistently (ie weekly)!! I’m also gonna start a taglist for this series so if you want to be added to it drop a ☀️ in my inbox/messages!

word count: 1.5k

The fluorescent lights of the hospital flooded your vision as you blinked your groggy eyes open. The machines you were connected to beeped slow and hypnotically beside you. You could feel the pain that would ripple through your body with every movement before had even attempted to sit up. Your breathing was labored and forced, an unusual sensation.

Your mom entered the room carrying two cups of steaming coffee which she placed on the small table in the corner of the room as soon as she noticed you were awake. She sat down quickly in the chair that was situated on the left side of your hospital bed. She automatically took your hand in hers.

"Oh, good, honey. You're awake. How are you feeling?" She asked, her brow knit together in concern. The bags under her eyes seemed to give you some indication of how long you'd been out. Your mother was always the most put together in the room. Her dirty blonde hair, the same color as yours, always gave the allusion of having been freshly blown out. Her makeup never looked chalky or stale, a skill you'd never quite been able to replicate. She lived in black blazers and stilettos, her purse resting in the nook of her arm.

The person holding tightly onto your hand in that hospital room was an entirely different version of your mom. One that two days ago had gotten a call that her daughter had gotten into a car crash, thrown a bunch of clothes in a suitcase, and board the first available flight from Oregon to the Outer Banks.

Your eyelids drooped, it was taking all your energy to keep them open so you let them close.

"Mom," you said, your voice coming out just barely above a whisper. "What happened?" You asked, even though you remembered most of what had happened the night of the crash.

The way you'd scrapped your knee climbing out of your window of your Nonna's house. The beautiful Cameron boy. The bonfire and the stink eye Phoebe had given you all night. The headlights of the car bellowing down the wrong side of the road. Rafe's hand grabbings yours.

Your mom reached up and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen onto your face. "You were in a car crash y/n. The other car hit the side of the one you were in and pushed you into a ditch. The force of the airbag fractured your rib which punctured your lung. The doctors said you're gonna be okay but they're keeping you on an IV drip of some pain meds."

Your chest did feel heavy but not just from the injuries.

"Wh- what about Rafe? Is he okay?" You forced yourself to open your eyes.

Your mom breathed in sharply. "He's okay. He left the hospital yesterday with his dad with only a concussion and a broken wrist."

"Mmmhmm." You mumbled in acknowledgment. You could feel sleep taking over once again. "I love you." You said to your mom before drifting off.

☼☼☼

Your bed was littered with the clothes you should have been packing because your flight left early tomorrow morning but instead, you were laying on the floor staring up at the ceiling, the fan whirling around rapidly. The August heat had seeped into the house, causing you to break into a sweat with the smallest movement. The sounds of the conversation between your Nonna and mom echoed from downstairs. You were sure they were probably arguing about you, again.

Your mom hadn't been able to let the accident go even though. You tried to explain to her how you'd left the house without your Nonna's permission so it wasn't like it was totally her fault. You sighed, wincing at the pain that still ran through your body when you took too deep a breath.

A tiny ping filled your ears causing you to sit up.

Ping. There it was again.

A third peddle hit your window. You walked over to it, sliding it open to see Rafe standing on the lawn below.

Your breath hitched. You hadn't seen him since that night but he looked exactly the same except for the black splint on his wrist.

"Hi," he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice carried.

You glanced over your shoulder nervous that your mom or Nonna were going to walk into the room at any moment having heard Rafe's shouting.

"Come up here," you replied, waving him up to your room.

With a surprising amount of speed for someone with only one good wrist, he pulled himself up the side of the porch and climbed through your window.

His eyes meet yours as he landed on the carpet and words escaped you entirely. The sparks that had been there that night hadn't disappeared at all.

"Hey, stranger," Rafe said, failing to hold back a smirk.

"Nice cast," you replied.

He looked down at it and quickly back up at you. "I'm sorry about everything. I promised to get you home safe and then got us into a car crash. Not exactly how I pictured the night ending." He forced a laugh but the regret in his voice was unmissable.

You took a step closer to him. "You don't have to apologize Rafe. You did everything you could. And I'm okay. You're okay. We're alive." There was more you wanted to say but the words seemed to disappear before you could form them.

Rafe closed the distance between the two of you stopping right in front of you. "God, I like you so much and I really fucked it up. Didn't I?"

This time a genuine laugh escaped you. "I think we might be able to salvage it." You responded feeling unusually bold. You grabbed his face, pulling him down to your level and placed an urgent kiss on his lips.

He slipped his own hand behind your neck, keeping your mouth pressed against his. The air around you was electric and neither of you dared to pull away first.

The door to your bedroom swung open and your Nonna's loud stern voice suddenly took over.

"Y/n y/l/n."

You stepped away from Rafe quickly, dropping your arms to your side. You turned around to face your Nonna. Her face was set with anger.

"Out Mr. Cameron." She instructed.

"Right. I was just leaving." He replied, moving back towards the window.

"Out the front door." Your Nonna clarified.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. My bad." Rafe said. His eyes connected with yours for just a moment as he walked out of the room. Your head the front door close behind him a few beats later.

You stayed frozen in the middle of the room, awaiting the lecture you knew was coming next.

Your Nonna crossed the room and shut the window.

"You're letting all the a/c out." She said, dryly.

"I'm sorry," you responded, apologizing for more than leaving the window open.

"A Cameron boy almost ruined your mother's life. I won't let the same thing happen to you." Your Nonna pushed some of your clothes aside and sat down on the bed.

"Your mom," she started again. "She started dating Rafe's dad, Ward, during her junior year. He was a year older and going to UNC in the fall. She wanted to follow him after she graduated high school. She thought she loved him and I told her no. Told her she could pick anywhere else but I wouldn't pay for her to throw her life away for puppy love. They broke up in October of her senior year. She barely spoke more than a few words to me for months. Then she moved away to California for college and didn't call me her entire freshman year. It was the hardest thing I've had to do as a mother. It almost ruined me. Ruined our relationship. But he was never going to really make her happy. He didn't love her like she loved him and it would never have lasted and then she'd be stuck at a school that she hadn't chosen for herself." Your Nonna looked up at you as she finished speaking.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" She asked. "That Cameron boy isn't good for you." Your Nonna stood up and walked over to you. She placed a kiss on your forehead. "I love you, muffin."

"I love you too." You replied. "I gotta finish packing."

"Okay," she said, closing the door behind her as she walked out of your room.

You flopped backward onto your bed and let out an audible groan. You had finally kissed Rafe Cameron and of course, your Nonna had to walk in at that moment.

Your phone, which had been previously discarded in the mess on your bed, buzzed. You pulled it out from under a pile of swimsuits. A text from Rafe popped up on the screen.

r: 'I'm officially scared of your grandma.'

y/n: 'hahah did you know our parents dated in hs?'

r: 'Really? I didn't. Weird.'

r: 'When do you leave?'

y/n: 'tomorrow moring'

The three dots showing that Rafe was typing appeared the screen up again and then went away. You waited another moment before turning your phone off and tossing it to the side.

You knew your Nonna just wanted the best for you but it wasn't gonna be easy to get Rafe Cameron out of your head.

[sadachmesarthim]

towers for your honeycomb chap 2: more meany pants tony

part one

content: tony’s being a dick again, mention of Peter’s Family Problems, confined spaces, smoking, @carelessannie​ is a character and Has A Boyfriend That Is a Real Person I Know, tony calls peter a turtle, crying

word count: 1.5k  //   square filled: locked in a closet!

song for this chapter here -> that’s not a good excuse - eli. 

It was late, it was cold... mid-December nights were usually slow, but not no-car-in-sight-for-hours slow. Peter didn't handle any of those well on their own, but all three?

Working with Tony the entire time didn't do much to help, either.

They'd clocked on together, they'd be clocking off together - it was his worst nightmare. There wasn't anything to do, either - they'd already finished half of the closing list and every single chore. Annie had FaceTimed her boyfriend after finishing her chem homework - hell - the girls'd made a snowman outside the front of the stand, for fuck's sake!

Time was barely crawling. It made Peter irritable - apparently, it made Tony irritable, too.

⁘|||⁘

Annie hung up her FaceTime call with Sebastian, excited at the prospect of food. She turned, ready to take orders from the three that were now in front of her. "Okay - Panda Express - what is he bringing us?"

Courtney piped up first. "I'll just do another of what you're doing, A." She went back to her phone, more interested in her boy of the week than the rest of the conversation.

Annie typed it into her texts, looking back toward the boys. "You two - what is he getting you?" Tony spoke next. "I'll do the same thing. I'm easy." Peter scoffed a bit at that, covering it poorly with a cough. Annie shot him a look. Don't start shit. 

"Peter, anything?" She knew him too well to ask. "Nah babe, I'm gonna eat at home."

That suddenly got Tony's attention. "What, you're not eating? We still have two hours left, and you look like you're about to fall over." Perfect Parker timing, his stomach growled - audibly enough to justify Tony's comment.

Peter shoved past him, making his way toward the back. He didn't want to engage - he wanted to- to- to text Resa, pour himself into some chores, maybe dive into a snowdrift - literally anything but continue the conversation.

Tony on the other hand... he didn't know when to stop. "What's your deal, Parker? The man is bringing us food, on his own dime. You really gonna be rude enough to refuse?"

Peter closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. "It doesn't matter what my deal is, Tony - maybe I just don't like Panda. Maybe I don't want something that heavy on my stomach. Maybe my mom has food waiting for me at home. You don't know shit - so why don't you just leave it alone?" Mmm a bit harsh, Parker, take it down a notch.

Tony scoffed. "We both know you don’t have anything waiting for you, anywhere, Parker. Quit talkin' big and just accept the generosity."

Both Courtney and Annie gasped at that one. It was common knowledge around the stand that Peter's home life was off-limits. Hell, everyone's was - leave your shit at the door applied to everyone else's shit too. Apparently, Tony didn't get the memo.

"Okay, nope. I'm not listening to this conversation. Both of you, fridge!" Courtney - taller and stronger than both of them - grabbed the boys, practically tossing them into the walk-in. The door slammed behind them, something jamming it from the outside.

Her voice was muffled, but they both understood - they weren't getting out until they figured this out. They'd been fighting off and on for months, and it was causing serious issues in the stand. The girls were uncomfortable - sure, it was fine if they were separated during shifts, but that couldn't go on forever.

This just happened to be everyone’s final straw.

Peter pressed his forehead into the door, not wanting to face the other man. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned on spending his evening - and now that he found himself here, he was going to do everything he could to avoid avoid avoid any further confrontation. 

His mouth hadn’t caught the memo. 

“That’s two.” Shut the fuck up. 

He couldn’t see them, but he could practically hear Tony’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Two what?” He was still seated, from what Peter could tell. At least he wasn’t about to get his ass beat.

“Two apologies you owe me. Me and the girls. For being rude, and talking shit in the stand.” God damn it Peter, shut your mouth!

Tony scoffed. “You’re still on about that? Come on, Parker, can’t you just let it go?” 

He tried. Peter tried really, really hard to hold himself back, he did. But it just... it wasn’t like him, to take shit like this. To allow someone like- like- like Tony Stark to make his life a living hell. Mob connections be damned, he wasn’t going to take it anymore. It was exhausting, and Peter was tired of coming to work every day dreading his shift. 

He got up, turning to face Tony. He might’ve been shorter than him normally, but with Tony sat on the foot-tall milk crate, there was quite a difference. It was childish, but it made him feel like he had the upper hand. 

“You- you- you can’t keep pushing me around like this, Tony. You’ve been a dick to me for months, and I’m sick of it. All I wanted was one stupid, little apology, and you can’t even give me that! 

“I left you alone! I tried to make our shifts together easy, I stayed out of your way! I begged Courtney to never schedule us or rotate us together. Do you know how difficult that is?? Especially in a stand this size, Tony, it’s nearly impossible.” He was near tears at this point, voice close to breaking. 

“And then you have the audacity to come here, in my stand, and talk about my- my family - which was not fucking okay, by the way. It just- it’s so cruel, Tony! I’m done!

“I tried to be nice, I really did. But you make it so fucking difficult. So forgive me for not being able to just let it go.” 

⁘|||⁘

Peter was always an ugly crier. Snotty, red eyes, uncontrollable shaking. 

He was also an angry crier. The two tended not to mesh well. 

It didn’t help that people tended to not take him seriously anyway. He was small, entirely not intimidating. Couldn’t hurt a fly. The second you get him even remotely upset, and he bursts into tears? 

He wasn’t expecting sympathy from Tony. 

⁘|||⁘

He was done sobbing by this point, but the damage was done. 

He’d thoroughly embarassed himself in front of the man he’d just... just demanded so much from. It wasn’t his lowest moment, but it was close. Nice going, P.

Peter was convinced he couldn’t be locked in the fridge with anyone wor-

There was a hand on his shoulder. 

His head shot up, grabbing Tony by the wrist. “Don’t touch me!” It came out louder than he’d intended, and the look of fear written on Tony’s face did make him feel a bit bad. Peter hadn’t let go. “Just- don’t- just ask first, fuck.” 

He released his grip, turning to dig his head back into his arms. He’d tucked himself into the far corner, drawing his knees up around him so he could get as far from the door as possible. He wanted to sink himself straight into the floor, mesh with the concrete, never show his face at work again - 

But there Tony was, looking down at him like he was a startled puppy. 

He plopped himself down next to Peter, facing in toward the center of the fridge. He tilted his head, making contact with Peter’s left knee. “Would you look at me?” Gentle.

Peter sniffled, trying to clear his nose. He knew he wasn’t the most presentable right now - wet spots soaking both of his sleeves, nose probably bright & cherry-tinged. He shifted, just barely peeking past his forearms. 

“There we go.” Peter sniffled again. 

Tony looked like there was a war going on inside him. Peter’d never spent this long looking at him - certainly never this long at his eyes. There was so much to them, so much hurt and understanding he’d never seen before. So much he recognized.

Tony was drawing circles into his shin, now, steady movement bringing him back to the present. “Come on, little turtle, come outta that shell for me.” 

Peter’s eyebrows drew together. “’m not a turtle.” 

Tony laughed. “What, then? Hermit crab? Clownfish? What else hides when it’s upset?” It was a sad attempt at breaking the tension, and he knew it. 

Peter wasn’t phased by it, either. His glare stuck. 

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. No animal nicknames. I got it.” He smiled as his hands came away from Peter’s body, pulling up in a defensive position. “Plain ‘ole human insults, then, promise.” 

Peter let out a huff. “How hard was that?” 

“Was what?” 

“You said sorry.” Oh. 

“I... I guess I did.” Tony’s hands came down. He pushed himself to his feet, crossing toward the door. “Consider it an accident.” His entire demeanor had shifted - he was back to his normal, standoff-ish self. 

Whoever Peter’d spent the last couple of minutes with was gone. 

“N- Tony I-” 

“Forget it, Peter. Seriously.” He pushed at the handle of the fridge door, thankful it was free to open. He bypassed the girls, grabbing the rest of his shit and tearing out the door. The cigarette barely lit with how fast he made the trek to his truck, lighter burning the side of his thumb. 

When did he get so soft? 

Fuck.

tag list: @longlivestarker​ @bluestarker​ xoxo​

[tanyawritesstories]

Must Be the Whiskey | Jack Daniels x Reader

I got inspiration to write this from listening to a song of the same name. Though the lyrics had nothing to do with the idea I came up with 😂 a thank you to @scribbledghost for letting me tag them. I hope y'all enjoy! 🤠

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, dramatics, insinuations of sex, domesticity, light chaos

•••

“I cannot believe you did that!”

Jack was angry again. You had been joking but apparently he had taken it seriously.

“Hun, it’s not that big of a deal,” you said, still finding it funny, “It was just a joke.”

Jack took off his hat and tossed it on the nightstand next to your shared bed. “Well it wasn’t funny to me,” he argued. You made your way into the bathroom and began taking your makeup off. “You don’t flirt with another man while I’m sitting right next to you!”

You laughed, “Babe, I was not flirting you know that. I just wanted to try it.” You knew he wasn’t really mad, just annoyed and most likely he just wanted to fight with you.

“Well ya shouldn’t ‘ave, sugar. Now you got your old man riled up,” he replied. Jack ditched his jacket and his shoes, running his hands through his hair.

You giggled and stepped out of the bathroom, finding your fiance sitting on the end of the bed. “I can think of something to do with all that energy,” you hinted suggestively.

He pouted and looked at his lap. “I ain't in the mood.” You had to resist laughing at this grown man acting like a child over something so simple and innocent.

You kneeled in front of him and tilted his head up so his eyes met yours. "Jack, baby, it was only a drink."

"Yeah but it was the wrong drink, you should've gotten your usual, and you know it," he continued to pout. You smiled sympathetically, "I will from now on, I promise. Jim has got nothin' on you, cowboy."

Yes, Jack was angry because you had decided to get a Jim Beam instead of your usual Jack Daniels whiskey, at the bar. Ever since you met him three years ago, you hadn't drank any other whiskey except his namesake. You didn't know he would promptly flip his lid when you decided to try a different kind tonight. You were sure he was acting or playing up his anger for show. He was a very dramatic man. You realized just how much when he accused your liquid betrayal of being akin to unfaithfulness.

He sighed. "I just want you to know you hurt me, darlin'. Don't break a man's ego like that again, ya hear?" He smiled and booped your nose.

"Yes, sir," you winked. "Now, do I have to satisfy myself or do you still have all that energy?"

A devilish smirk came to his face and he hoisted you up to straddle his lap before falling backwards so you landed on his chest.

"Oof, yep, you still got the energy," you concluded. Jack kissed you like it was the last time he ever would, full of heat and passion. A kiss that was so very Jack.

"I love you, sweet pea. And I plan on showin' you just how much," he drawled. You giggled. It was going to be a long and delightfully tiring night.

~~~~

Jack woke up still feeling worn out. That's the price he paid for a good time with his lady. But it was worth it every time.

He begrudgingly lifted himself out of the comfy bed, sliding some sweatpants onto his bare body. He could hear you humming from the kitchen. Your mumbled melodies accompanied the smell of bacon and coffee, his favorites. He made his way into the kitchen, forgoing a shirt.

He found you exactly how he expected. You were standing at the stove stirring eggs in a pan, bacon was sizzling away on a different burner, and coffee was brewing on the other end of the counter. He watched you for a while, his eyes wandering up and down your body. You were wearing shorts and one of his shirts that was much too big on you. He approached quietly, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Morning, dear,” you greeted. You could barely hear his mumbled reply into your skin. “You hungry?” Jack nuzzled into your neck. “I don’t know, I had quite the feast last night, but I wouldn���t be opposed to a second helping,” he teased, nipping your neck and giving your ass a light squeeze. You giggled and tried to push his hands away from tickling you.

Jack loved hearing you laugh, it was one of his favorite sounds. He loved waking up to find you making him breakfast. There was something so domestic and peaceful about it. Sometimes he would sit and watch you, he found it fascinating how you could throw a few ingredients together and mold it into something completely different and delicious. He never got tired of watching you cook and bake. The only times he missed it was when you were called into work early or he left before you woke up. He smiled fondly at the memory of buying you an apron that said ‘kitchen wizard’ on it in big red letters, you always wore it when baking. Jack compared your baking to a form of art as complex and stunning as the canvas paintings you had strewn around the house.

You both worked at a reasonable time and were able to have breakfast together, chatting about the day's events and generally anything that came to mind. You and Jack parted ways with a kiss, Jack heading off to Statesman and you heading off to your day job.

~~~~

Jack got home before you and had been relaxing when he received a text from you asking him to come out into the driveway. He was confused but complied. He found you getting the groceries out of the trunk of your car.

“You need help there, sugar?” He asked.

“No. But I must prove something to you, Jack,” you said dramatically. Oh no. Jack knew that tone of voice, it was usually used to either tease him or make yourself sound like a dramatic theatre actor. In conclusion, it was never good, but always humorous, when you used that voice. “I have purchased something to prove to you how much I love you in a broad demonstration of questionable intellect,” you preached. Jack smiled and laughed. “What did you get, sweet pea. More lingerie? Because I haven’t gotten tired of the last set, ya know.”

“It’s worse,” you said. You reached into one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey. Holding it above your head, you took a few steps away from your car, standing not far away from Jack. “What are you doing with that?” He asked, only a little bit irked. “Allow me to demonstrate my love for you,” you announced, putting your other hand over your heart. At that, you released your grip on the bottle, sending it into the concrete with a loud smash, glass and liquor going everywhere.

Jack’s mouth dropped open. He wasn’t expecting you to do that. “Honey, what-”

“My love for you is no joke, Jack Daniels. I will love you till my dying day and will smash as many more bottles of that fowl name as I need to, should you ever doubt me.” You stood watching him, his reaction was funnier than you thought it would be, it had taken every ounce of self control in you to keep a straight face. You could feel your jeans were wet with alcohol and some bits of glass had caught in the bottom.

Jack sauntered over to you. “Darlin’, honey, sweet pea, love of my life,” he cupped your face in his hands, “Do you realize you just smashed a thirty dollar bottle of whiskey in our driveway?” You nodded, sincerity in your eyes. “Yes, I do realize. I wanted to prove to you that you are superior to anyone and everyone else, and I love you,” you beamed up at him. “You are truly somethin’ else,” he said, his smile warm and loving as he kissed your forehead. “Let’s clean this up and then have dinner.”

You helped Jack clean up the mess, sweeping the glass shards into a dustpan and washing away the liquid with a bucket of water. You made sure there was no more glass as you didn’t want any of it to get caught in the car tires. He helped you carry the groceries into the house and unpack them.

“I also got us actual drinks,” you said. Jack turned to see you holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a bottle of Statesman in the other. “How much did you spend on whiskey tonight, angel?” He asked, amused. “Only about eighty bucks,” you answered. Jack once again took his time walking over to you, “Sometimes I think you’re worse than me.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You have to think about that? I thought it was obvious,” you sassed. “Well alright, little missy, do I have to teach you not to speak out of turn again tonight or are we going to have dinner,” Jack sassed right back. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m quite hungry,” you giggled. “No time to lose then, sunshine. Let’s get cookin’.”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Running

A/N: Here is my entry for @obsessedwithrandomthings​ 500 followers celebrations! Congratulations Dee! You more than deserve this! The prompt I used is in the summary, but I have also bolded it in the text. Thank you so much for letting me take part! The gif doesn't really match the theme of the fic but I searched ‘running’ and it was the best of them lol. I’m also less than 10 followers away from 800 so this is exciting!! As always, I hope you all enjoy!!

Summary: “Run away with me,” You plead, hands framing his face, “It’ll be worth it.”

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, mentions of death and anxiety, vomit - there is a lot of worry and anxiety in this, so please don't read if you don’t like, but I have tried to wrap it up in a fluffy fashion!!

Word count: 1.5k

Your stomach had been a ball of anxiety all night. Nothing anyone said could dampen the fear that was crawling its way up your throat. Something was going to happen tonight, and it wasn’t going to be good.

Your fears are proven correct when Sirius lands in the hallway, holding up a drastically bleeding Remus. His blood stains his white button-up shirt and drips steadily onto the floor.

The scream is caught in your throat. You look wildly at Sirius, demanding an explanation. Sirius explains quickly; they had been tailed as they were following their own targets. Remus threw himself in front of Sirius to protect him from the Sectumsempra curse.

“I couldn’t take him to St. Mungo’s. I don’t know who works there, but I’ve already called for a Healer I can trust,” Sirius shudders, murmuring the levitation charm straight after, following Remus up the stairs in a hurry.

His blood stains the carpet in the hall and would stain the stairs too, but it was the last thing on your mind as you hurry behind Sirius. Remus is laid on the bed; his face contorted in pain, barely conscious but still aware of the pain lancing through his body.

Wordlessly, you conjure clean towels from the airing cupboard, holding them to the cuts across Remus’ chest and arms. Sirius takes a towel from you, holding it to the wound across his stomach.

The Healer arrives in what seems like hours, but it could have been minutes. Your eyes do not leave Remus as you press towel after towel to his cuts, trying to stem the bleeding despite knowing that nothing but magic would help.

Sirius’ hand on your shoulder has you stepping away from the love of your life, letting the Healer complete his work. Your hands are covered in Remus’ blood; your clothes too, are ruined. You barely make it to the toilet to empty your stomach. Sirius is there, holding your hair back, muttering comforting words to you. You press your forehead to the cold porcelain, trying to take everything in now that the adrenaline was leaving your body, but your brain couldn’t comprehend what you had just been witness to.

You force yourself to stand; pushing down the fresh wave of nausea as you make your way back into the bedroom, to Remus. He lies on the bed; his body entirely healed, but deeply asleep.

“I’ve had to give him a strong sleeping draught. He lost a lot of blood and whilst I was able to heal the injuries, there’s going to be some damage internally. He needs to be asleep for it to heal which, with his lycanthropy, will heal in a few days.”

“How long will he be asleep then?” Sirius asks, learning the information to relay to you later. He knows that at the moment, you would not be listening to word being said. That all of your attention would be focused on the man on your bed, asleep and no longer in any pain.

You refuse to leave his side. They all try to coax you from your room. Sirius promises he’ll stay with him so you can shower, but you refuse. Harry tries his hardest to get you to come downstairs to eat, but it doesn’t work. Instead, he leaves for a moment before coming back with a plate of food. You nibble at it, but the nausea soon returns.

The first day blends seamlessly into the second and there’s no change in Remus. He lies on his side of the bed in clean clothes and clean sheets, sleeping peacefully. You admire him from your spot in the armchair across the room; this would the first time in a long time that Remus had managed to get a solid block of sleep without being interrupted by the order or the lunar cycle. You think it every time but in sleep, you see the Marauder in him. You see the teenager you had fallen in love with one afternoon by the Black Lake. The teenager who had stuttered through asking you out but soon found his confidence once you had accepted.

For years it had been you and Remus. The only survivors of the first wizarding war, Remus claimed though it pained him to say it.

On the third day of your vigil beside the bed, Remus groans before blinking against the bright light of the morning. You’re out of your seat in an instant, lurching to the end of the bed with tears in your eyes. “Remus, you’re awake! How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

“I’m sore, but I’m okay. I don’t need anything right now.”

You sag in relief, “I am so happy you’re awake, dear. That was the most terrifying time of my life.”

“Even more than the time you saw me as a wolf?” Remus tries to joke, but he winces instead.

“This isn’t a joking situation, Remus!” You cry, “Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember being followed and then jumping in front of Sirius and then blinding pain. I passed out then, I think.”

Your hands grip the bedpost at the end of the bed, “Sirius brought you back here and we called in a Healer. You were hit with the Sectumsempra curse and your blood was everywhere, and I couldn’t stop it-” You break off suddenly; your words getting caught in your throat.

The sudden urge to run overwhelms you. Your eyes dart around the room – to the suitcases, to the wardrobes. A plan begins to form in your head; a few more days healing was all that Remus would require before he’s stable enough to apparate. You know of a place where you couldn’t be traced where he could spend a few weeks or so recuperating before you run for real.

The desire to leave it all behind takes over. In that moment, the only thing you could ever want is a longer life with the man lying on the bed in front of you. If this war continued, how long would you have? Optimism in this situation is vitally important but as your eyes return to Remus, running over the war-weary, pale face of the love of your life, all you want is to go.

To go and never look back.

“Run away with me,” You start, rushing to his side, hands framing his face, “It’ll be worth it.”

“Where would we go?” He asks, his eyes bright with possibilities.

“Anywhere – the country, the coast, abroad. Run away with me Remus, before the war swallows us whole.”

“What about the Order? Darling, we can’t leave them.”

“Fuck that, Remus. Look at yourself! You can barely move.” You stand, gesturing to the four walls in which you stand, “These last few days have been my own personal hell; I didn’t know if you were going to wake up. For the first time in my life, I have had to face a possibility of a life without you and I won’t do it. Not again. Run away with me, Remus.” Your eyes are wild as you plead to him, beg to him to consider doing this.

Remus’ eyes search yours, looking for what, you don’t know. You know the minute you’ve lost the battle, and you would be remaining where you are. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” You ask brokenly.

“You won’t leave Harry, love. You’re his godmother – you won’t let him face this war without you, you simply won’t.”

The tears that were previously lining your eyes now overflow onto your cheeks. You look at Remus through watery eyes, not bothering to stem the flow. “You can’t do this to me again, Remus. I will not live in a world that does not have you in it, do you understand?”

“I understand, darling.” Remus holds his hand out for you. You stumble over to him, desperate to touch some part of him. With a light tug, he has you sat next to him on the bed you share. “I’m here now,” he whispers, “I don’t plan on leaving for a long, long time.”

You sniffle, “Good. I didn’t like the look of my life without you.”

“What have I missed then; in the three days I’ve been asleep?”

You look at him, somewhat sheepishly, “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t left this room.”

Remus frowns at you. “Darling, please tell me you’ve eaten and taken care of yourself.”

“I’ve eaten a little, but I didn’t want to leave you and I didn’t want to let anyone look after you.”

“I really did scare you, didn’t I?”

You nod, “Beyond scare, Remus. I couldn’t think straight, I don’t think I’ve thought a coherent thought since Sirius appeared with you in the hall.”

He brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing kiss after kiss to the back of your hand. “I am so sorry, my love.”

“You don’t need to apologise, Remus. You did nothing wrong.”

“Nevertheless. I am sorry, I didn’t think before throwing myself in front of Sirius, and I should have.”

“You were protecting your best friend.”

Remus shrugs, but winces at the stiffness in his joints, “I will not leave you like that again. The minute I’m out of this bed I’m speaking to Dumbledore, demanding lighter missions. I’m too fond of this life to leave it prematurely.”

Tears start anew as you lie next to the man you so dearly love. Gripping his hand in both of yours, you press it your chest, “I’m too fond of you to let you leave it prematurely.”

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

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @kalimagik​ @summer-writes​ @lupins-sweater​ @slytherinprincess03​ @mischiefsemimanaged​ @soleil-amaryllis​ @bforbroadway​ @masterofthedarkness​ @chaotic-fae-queen​ @peachesandpinks​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @siriusly-addicted-to-writing​ @firewhisky-kisses​ @deafgirltingz​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @harrypotter289​ @sprvpti​ @accio-rogers​ @potterverseimagine​ @figlia--della--luna​ @angelinathebook​ @dreamer821​

[riotwritesthings]

Coffee and Bad Words

WinterIron, T, 1.5K, convenient amnesia

For the @winterironmonth​

Fun fact, this is probably my favorite prompt I’ve written for the month so far it’s so goofy I regret nothing.

SFW Wednesday, Amnesia AND “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

-

Bucky walks into the lab with a half formed plan for how he’s going to try and coax Tony out. The man’s been locked up down there playing with some weird bit of tech they picked up on their last mission for almost 36 hours now, and everyone is starting to get concerned. Bucky is pretending not to know why he was chosen for this job.

The doors open for him, and the second he steps into the the lab Tony spins to point at him and demands “you. We’re friends, right?”

“Um,” Bucky says, because that’s the big question isn’t it? Bucky would certainly like to think so, at least, he’d even like to think maybe he’ll work up the balls to try for more than that sometimes soon. Especially if the rest of the team keeps mocking him about his ‘totally obvious’ feelings. Still, he’s not sure what answer Tony is actually looking for here, so he finally settles on a hesitant “yes?”

“Right,” Tony says, nodding and turning back to the million screens opened up before him, spanning nearly the entire workspace and displaying what looks like various clips of security feeds from the lab. “Right, of course we’re friends, you spend so much time down here. We’re totally friends. That makes sense. I’ve hardly seen anyone else on these feeds, and look, look I’m even laughing in this one.”

Tony pauses to point to one of the screens and Bucky remembers that day. He doesn’t remember exactly what stupid pun he’d made, but he remembers the way Tony had laughed, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back.

“Tony,” Bucky says slowly, and he’s starting to get a bad feeling about this, but before he can say anything else Tony spins back towards him with a victorious grin.

“Tony! That was going to be my question, thank you!”

Bucky’s heart drops into his stomach. His bad feeling gets exponentially worse.

-

Turns out, the fancy new gizmo Tony had been playing with activated somehow, and apparently wiped his memory. All of it. And instead of telling anyone, Tony has spent the past twelve or so hours alone, watching security footage.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Bucky can’t help demanding, heart racing, and he has to get Tony to medical, get him checked over, what if there’s something else-

“Because I had to figure out who I am, first!” Tony insists, breaking into Bucky’s panic spiral, throwing his arms in the air, like somehow Bucky is the one being ridiculous here.

“So you’ve been watchin’ security footage of yourself?”

“A man is most himself when alone,” Tony says obnoxiously and Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes. Then Tony considers the screens again and adds “and when you’re here, I guess, you’re down here like all the time. You didn’t even leave when I snorted a questionably green shake out of my nose, which, gross. Although you did laugh at me, that’s real friendship I guess.”

Bucky ignores the heat trying to rise in his face because right, sure, friendship. “You couldn’ have tried the internet?” Bucky asks instead of addressing the fact that it really is obvious how much time he spends hanging around Tony now that it’s all laid out like this, “or, I dunno, asked JARVIS?”

Tony’s nose wrinkles adorably as he demands “the ceiling voice?! Like hell am I trusting that, next thing I know it’s going to be refusing to open the pod bay doors!”

“Oh my god, you’re so paranoid,” Bucky groans, slumping onto one of the stools and resisting the urge to drop his forehead to the table.

“See, you do know me!” Tony says brightly, smile lighting up his face, and despite everything Bucky’s heart gives a little flutter. “So far, I’ve been able to determine that all I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Bucky mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Tony laughs again.

“Also, am I building a robot army? What up with that?” Tony asks, turning back to his many screens with a thoughtful look.

“You are a robot army,” Bucky says, and he’s about to actually explain the suits of armor lining the walls when something on the screens catches his eye instead.

He remembers that day, too. Tony in a tank top, working on one of the armors, grease smeared across his bare arms. Bucky feels his face heating up, because he remembers what happens next, too. On screen, Bucky wants into the lab, catches sight of Tony, and promptly trips over DUM-E and goes sprawling to the ground. Not his proudest moment, but not the worst he’s ever embarrassed himself in front of Tony with the man, somehow, miraculously not noticing.

Bucky glances over at Tony, to see if maybe he’d managed to miss Bucky’s face plant this time too, only to find Tony already watching him with a considering look. Bucky opens his mouth with absolutely no idea what he plans to say, but Tony beats him to it anyways.

“Did you know,” Tony starts slowly, and apparently he doesn’t need his memory to get the same look on his face when he’s putting the pieces together, “that when you moved the couch to get the ball one of the weird robots lost, I straight up fell off my chair and nearly stabbed myself with a screwdriver on the way down?”

“Uh,” Bucky says, because he had not known that, and the knowing look that’s slowly growing on Tony’s face is making him nervous. For multiple reasons. And a part of him can’t stop wondering how many other stupid things Tony has seen him doing in these feeds, how many stupid things Bucky has missed Tony doing over him.

“So, new question,” Tony says, sidling towards him with an amazing amount of confidence for someone with no memories. “Are we, by any chance, right on the delicate edge of more than friends?”

“Uh- you,” Bucky stutters out and he can’t back away fast enough, his hip bouncing painfully off the corner of a table because he can’t drag his eyes away from the way Tony’s tongue swipes out to wet his lips. Finally Bucky gets his brain back online enough to insist “we’re not having this conversation when you don’t remember anythin’!”

Tony pouts but at least stops advancing on him, and it’s incredibly difficult for Bucky to drag his attention away from the swell of Tony’s lower lip. “Fine. And I suppose you’re going to make me go talk to doctors now,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes, and Bucky’s not sure if it’s a good or bad sign that Tony’s dislike of going to medical isn’t reliant on his memories either.

“For starters,” Bucky grumbles. That’s right, he just has to deal with this one thing at a time, first they make sure Tony is okay, then they figure out what’s going on with his memory, and then-

“And then we can make out?” Tony asks hopefully and Bucky almost trips over exactly nothing.

“Would you please just- grab the thing and we can go talk to someone?” Bucky demands and Tony’s little smirk is really not helping anything.

“Fine, fine,” Tony says, smirking wider as he turns to grab the small device still sitting on one of the tables.

There’s a bright flash of light.

Bucky wakes up on his back, blinking at the ceiling in confusion.

“Are you kidding?! It was that easy?!” Tony’s voice demands from somewhere on the other side of the lab, “I hate magic. So much.”

“I know,” Bucky says with a groan as he pushes himself upright again, and then pauses, “wait, you remember that?”

“I also remember taking my midterms in a hula outfit, which I haven’t remembered since the 90’s, so that’s fun,” Tony says and his head pop up over one of the tables, looking a little dazed, a little confused, but no worse for wear. “Apparently, when I get my memories back I get all of them back. Including the things I’d rather not.”

Tony continues complaining as they pick themselves back up, dust themselves off, and Bucky is just trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to say now. Does he act like they didn’t just have an accidental revelation? Chalk it all up to the effects of the magic mind wiper and never speak of it again?

As usual, Tony beats him to the punch. His eyes flick up to the screens again, and a hopeful smile spreads across his face. “So, did we have to go upstairs right now, or..?” He trails off, wiggles his eyebrows, and almost manages to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Or,” Bucky says, surprising himself with how firm his voice comes out considering he had no idea he was going to say it. He’s not taking it back through, not missing this chance because knowing himself, Bucky could spend the rest of his life finding excuses to wait.

“Yay, we’re gonna make out,” Tony says, giddy and goofy and oh, Bucky’s heart is swelling almost painfully in his chest as Tony picks right back up on advancing on him.

“Just a little,” Bucky says, already reaching out to pull him in, “then it’s straight to medical for you.”

“Boo,” Tony tries to complain, but Bucky just kisses him quiet.

[ayatosmlktea]

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫𝑾𝑰𝑫𝑬

Pairings: Bokuto x Reader

Genre: Fluff, a lil tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Just a lil something I wrote for @soltserra​ one night! This song is based on Worldwide from Big Time Rush and I highly HIGHLY recommend listening to it while you read because 1) it’s a masterpiece and 2) it makes the fic 10x better

Also I literally know nothing about sports so pls...be kind :3

The news comes as a shock to Bokuto, he knew that eventually it was going to happen but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, being drafted into one of the biggest volleyball teams in the world. Of course he was excited, he had been thrilled so much so that he could barely contain his excitement and had nearly grabbed the manager in for a hug before remembering to remain professional.

 His dreams were finally coming to fruition and the first person his mind thought of after hearing the offer was you. His rock through thick and thin, his highschool sweetheart. Unable to wait any until he got home he dialed your number, bouncing with excitement as he waited for you to pick up.

Frowning when his call went to voicemail he figured you must have been busy, it didn’t matter. That meant he’d get to share the news with you in person!

Rushing home, he stopped along the way to pick up your favourite takeout to celebrate. Their lives were about to change in the best way possible and there was no one else he wanted to go on this journey with.

Practically running home, he bounded up the steps to your shared apartment two at a time eager to tell you the good news.

Upon entering the apartment he found you fast asleep on the couch, placing the food on the kitchen counter Bokuto sat down next to you, gently stroking your hair.

“Hey love, I got dinner” he says softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Pulling the light blanket over your  head you groaned something incoherent into the cushions.

“I got your favourite! Sushi burritos” At the mention of food you poke you head out from under the blankets, suddenly wide awake.

“Food” Bokuto laughs loudly, wrapping his arms around you to plant wet kisses on your cheeks.

“So you’ll wake up for food but not me? That hurts” he sniffles before continuing his assault of kisses all over your face.

“Move, I’m hungry” Turning your head away from his face you struggle to slip out of his arms.

“Can I at least have a kiss for being the world’s best boyfriend and bringing my beautiful girlfriend her favourite dinner?” Bokuto pouted, you had gotten used to his childish temper after being together for so long but for some reason right now it was funnier than usual.

“If you wash the dishes too you might get one later” Flashing him a cheeky smile you shoved your hands against his chest, walking into the kitchen to inspect the food. Not even waiting to sit down, you lean on the kitchen island unwrapping your food and take a hasty first bite.

“So there’s something I wanted to tell you about!” Bokuto says abruptly. Your eyes leave your burrito, with a curious look on your face.

“I got an offer to play for that American team I was telling you about”

“Oh my God! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you Bo” You knew how big of a deal it was for him to get drafted by this team, putting down your food you shuffled over to give him a hug.

“I know right! We have a few weeks to get settled into our new place. We should probably start packing tomorrow” The longer Bokuto rambled on, the bigger the pit of dread grew in your stomach.

“We?”

“Yeah, you and me babe.” His smile is so hopeful and full of excitement that it feels wrong to have to crush his spirits.

“I-I can’t go with you, I can’t just quit my job and move across the world with you”

Bokuto’s face fell instantly, he hadn’t expected this. He’d been so caught up in telling you the news, that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might not be able to come with him.

“I’ll come visit you! But for now, it’s not possible. I’m sorry”

“It’s fine! Like you said, you can come visit me” He was trying to brush off his disappointment for you, but you knew that he was upset. The rest of dinner was spent in an uncomfortable silence.

‧͙⁺˚*·༓☾　　☽༓·*˚⁺‧͙

It had been almost three months since Bokuto had seen you, the two of you tried to call as often as you could but it was difficult with the time difference. While you  were on your lunch break Bokuto was already fast asleep. The only time you really got to spend with each other was on the weekends, and even then it was never enough. 

The way your eyes would become glossy with tears never went unnoticed but he didn’t want to say anything that would make you cry. It ripped his heart into shreds knowing that you were crying and he couldn’t do anything about it. He sent you pictures everyday along with cute messages reminding you that he loved you. Bokuto spent most of his nights going through old pictures and videos of the two of you  together. 

On days where they weren’t able to call at all, he’d go through his voicemail until he found an old message from you. It didn’t matter what you were saying, the sound of your voice alone was enough to help ease his homesickness.

Volleyball took up a lot of his time and most of his energy but you were always on his mind. Everything he was doing was for your future. The sooner he became successful, the sooner you’d be able to come live with him in America.

Lately,you seemed more distant. You didn’t send him as many texts like you usually did and whenever he tried to make plans to call you, there was always something keeping you busy. Doubts of you falling out of love with him were putting him on edge, the rational side of him tried to convince himself that he was being paranoid for no reason. You were an honest person, and if you were falling out of love with him he trusted you to tell him.

Regardless, the thought of not having you in his life was enough to start affecting his playing. His serves were off, his spikes were not timed properly. He’d been yelled at by their coach more times in one week than he had in his entire time spent on his highschool team. It was beginning to irritate him, as much as he wanted to get his head in the game he couldn’t stop worrying about you. Thoughts of you dating another man, kissing someone who wasn’t him, holding someone else’s hand were all starting to drive him crazy.

When practice ends, Bokuto leaves feeling frustrated, he knows  he can play better than that. He knows what he needs to do, he knows how to time his jumps so why can’t he just focus on the game. Pulling out his phone, he scrolls through his notifications hoping that you had sent him something, anything to make his disappointing day a bit better.

But there’s nothing.

He doesn’t even want to eat, his mood is so sour that all he can think of is taking a shower and crawling into bed. His emo mode reaching new levels of pettiness. The walk back to his apartment is spent hoping that you would be able to call him. A week of bare minimum communication was making him crazy. He could only imagine what it would be like if you were to actually walk out of his life. The thought alone makes his throat constrict.

“Why do you look constipated?” A distinct chuckle instantly grabs his attention. His eyes dart up from the sidewalk to find you standing outside of his apartment complex. For a second Bokuto doesn’t know how to react, his mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether or not he’s hallucinating.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or are you gonna let me in? I’m hung-” Bokuto races forward, grabbing you and enveloping you in a bone crushing hug.

“I missed you so much” he mumbles, suddenly finding it hard to get his words out. He’s so sure that he’s dreaming and any second his alarm will go off, waking up once again to an empty bed. But the smell of your shampoo is right under his nose and your arms are squeezing him back in a way that feels too real to be a dream.

“I missed you too”

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining”

“I requested a transfer to our American branch, that’s why I’ve been distant this past week. I was so excited I didn’t want to give anything away” You confess shyly, averting your gaze from his face. Cupping your cheeks with both of his hands he leans down to kiss you passionately, the feeling of your lips against his after so long feels so good that it sets every nerve in his body on fire.

“I love you, so much” he says, tightening his arms around your  body. All the doubts he’d been having immediately disappeared. It was stupid to think that after all this time a little distance would come between you two. It didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together Bokuto was complete.

“I love you too Bo”

[hollyhomburg]

..... This isn't fair like reading the miscarriage warning then reading about how happy everyone is that the reader is pregnant how dare u play with my emotions like this

I’m sorry but like- bruh, it’s about to get worse- major angst coming in this ask, like all the triggers- but also I’m not going to go into a lot of detail because of how heavy these topics are. this is also the end of like- my prewritten content for this. trigger warning: mentions of miscarriage, injury, rape, and depictions of PTSD. 

So anyway, after yoongi comes home injured, Jungkook leaves to take his place and control of the armies- he’s the only one who Yoongi trusts in his Infirm state. but the war is almost over and the other army is scattered without their commander. namjoon sends back a few messages that allude to the fact that the expected peace talks to come in the next few weeks. Hoseok too- sends back word that planting should resume once the weather allows. but in the north- as winter resumes it’s trudge. the city seems lighter, almost relaxed.

they shouldn’t have relaxed.

I don’t want to go too gory- but basically one night an elite group of assassins from the other side sneaks in and steals the reader in retaliation for killing their youngest alpha. They don’t get far, and they don’t end up being able to take Seokjin only because he manages to sound the alarm. 

they take her on the run and even though they only have her for an evening they do enough damage. they might not have physically taken you but. that night, something is lost. 

By the time Yoongi manages to track them down, she’s already been raped and her inner omega is so traumatized by it that she loses the baby. Yoongi goes absolutely feral- not even shifting before he rips out the assassins throats with his teeth and tearing him to shreds. all the while you’re just- staring into space, body small and cold in the snow with not even enough energy to sit up after having fought for so long, and though yoongi carries you back as quickly as his injuries will allow- it’s already too late.

when Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jungkook find out what’s happened, they nearly completely abandon the war effort. Jungkook is emboldened and hardened by the loss, and wipes out their forces with ruthless efficiency, taking back the pack lands within a few days. He doesn't stop killing until namjoon goes onto the battlefield to take him off of it- and tell him they’re going home- where they’re really needed now. 

Namjoon has the other alphas from the pack put to death for hurting his family,  they ride home and leave the army behind them to catch up, riding as quick as they can. When they finally get into the palace walls Jungkook runs to find you, finally finding you in the garden, crying in relief that you’re not in a bed somewhere dying like the message had made it seem, sitting at one of the tables with untouched tea and lunch in front of you- he shouts your name- breaks out into a sprint, the first smile on his face in weeks- because if you’re alive and healthy he can fix it- he knows he can- he can do anything with you and the pack by his side- and a few strides away from you he’s intercepted by Taehyung who is quick to grab him around the middle.

They argue- Jungkook yells and thrashes, so close but so far from where you sit, but quiets when you turn to look at him. your eyes- you don’t look like you’re really hearing it- really seeing it. really there at all. you only look at him for a moment before you’re closing your eyes and leaning back in the chair again, your body barely anything other than limp where you lean, like you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself up if it weren’t for the chair.  

You might have lived through what happened, but you’re a ghost of who you once where. You don’t speak- to anyone really, not anymore- you barely even nod or shake your head on a good day. The first few weeks are tense and sad- with you barely eating and the others scrambling to keep the kingdom afloat while dealing with the loss. 

Seokjin is your constant shadow, always making sure that the few chosen omega staff are treating you with the utmost gentleness and keeping the alpha guards away from you, never farther in than the wall that encircles the garden and the palace. it seems to make you shake and hyperventilate to have any alpha but the members of your own pack close- and even that's somewhat of a stretch- you’re still unable to handle most affection from them the majority of the time. The only ones you let even touch you are Seokjin and Taehyung. Namjoon tries once, but you don’t respond, nothing beyond your trembling when he tries to touch your hand. 

here are moments when they see whatever blockage stays in your mind to block you from the trauma of that night, moments when you start to shake and it won't stop when your eyes turn lucid and clear and you start to sob, and then the next moment, you’re as placid as a lake and twice as calm. it happens around Jungkook once, and one moment he’s cupping your cheeks in his hands and the next you’re pushing him away so hard, scrambling back to get as far away from him as possible. Taehyung putting himself between the both of you hands out, voice low and soothing, “it’s okay, Jungkook didn’t mean it,” 

yoongi- yoongi is a worse story entirely, he’s still healing but it’s going badly. the night he tracked you down he reaggravated his broken leg and did permanent damage too it. he’ll likely never walk without a limp again. You refuse to see yoongi, and will actually stand and walk away if he tries to talk to you- which in the first few days is as dangerous to you as it is for him. 

The others try to talk to him about what happened, but beyond the details of the killing, he dosent want to- he dosent want to tell them how the midwife had tried to help you through the night, how much blood there had been in the snow and on yoongi- how much of your blood had been on his hands, how damaged you’d been, how you’d cried and cried into Seokjin’s chest until the doctor had given you a mild sedative so that you’d sleep and stop panicking, the blood vessels in your eyes burst from the strength of your sobs. how after it, you’d woken up and been like this. 

Seokjin tells them eventually, standing by the door, putting his body in between them and where you sleep. later, he’ll go to you too and curl up around you and hold you when you jolt awake, keeping you tethered. he needs to be strong for you now- he needs to take care of you as the lead omega, it’s his responsibility- you’d endured the worst pain an omega could endure. 

Seokjin thinks it should have been him who was taken, he was the one who’d had the more of a connection to the old royal family- then at least- you wouldn’t have lost the pup.  

“What do you want me to tell you!?” Yoongi yells, his handbook slipping off the side of his shoulder, showing the bandages wrapping his chest. he knows he shouldn’t yell- he could end up coughing up blood but he can’t keep it in any longer, can’t be quiet even though you’re asleep in the other room. he’d watched around the corner as Seokjin had helped you, he knows- you’d have stayed up looking at the falling snow in the garden all night if no one had gone to get you if Seokjin hadn’t helped you with a soft hand on your arm, Taehyung not far away, ready to rush forward with your nightclothes when Seokjin finally gets you to accept his help and stop pushing his hands away. 

“Do you want me to tell you that I wasn’t fast enough, that I let her be taken- that I let her be hurt while i was here? that I’m a shit alpha and I wish I never was one to begin with- do you want me to tell you it was all my fault? because it was. Hoseok- it’s my fault, it’s all my fucking fault that our baby is dead and she’s” he breaks off, sobbing when he thinks of you, oh you, his sweetest love, sweeter than the cherry blossoms and twice as beautiful, and now- he’d failed, failed to protect you from the world.

“You want someone to scream and yell at and hurt- you should hurt me because I’m the one to blame for all of this”  Hoseok pulls yoongi close, leaning in close to scent him, Hoseok’s throat wet with Yoongi’s tears, they hold onto each other sobbing. Hoseok’s hands tightening in Yoongi’s back after a moment, “Hyung, you need to sit, you’ve been standing for too long come here-” 

That night, they end up talking it out, they’d have you here for it but mostly- they need to discuss you. They don’t know how to help you so they’ll settle now- for keeping you alive and safe. Seokjin ends up crying into Jungkook’s shoulder, Taehyung rubbing circles onto his back. Namjoon’s had tightens so much around his tea that the cup shatters, his hand turning into the clawed form of his wolf before he reigns in his temper. for there is no one left to kill to sate his anger, no one left to be mad at except himself. and he won’t blame yoongi- no matter what the alpha says. it’s not his fault. 

(I wish i was never an alpha to begin with, is what yoongi said that night. and the moon who looks over all of you hears that and remembers it for a later date. in the next life, she’ll be sure to make yoongi more gentle, the life of an alpha might be too much for him, his soul so soft around the edges) 

(this is 1.5k so I'm gonna leave this here~) 

[peakyblinderswhore]

Ooh for requests how about Alfie dating a Shelby sister and Tommy finding out? I love love love your writing xx

A/N: hey anon! this is my first alfie fic and I thoroughly enjoyed this!! thank you for requesting this beauty.

W/C: 1.5k

You wait impatiently outside the sliding barn doors.

Tapping your foot on the ground to calm your nerves, you look around to make sure that you haven’t been followed or that anyone has seen you. It was hard in Camden Town as everyone was always bustling and it was constantly noisy os if someone had successfully followed you this would be one of the only points that you would’ve been able to figure it out as the roads thinned out and the alleyways were dark and lonely, growing silent the further in you walked down them. This was always the nerve-wracking part — the part that you remembered why you were always sneaking around.

As you were lifted from your thoughts, you heard some internal groaning from the building so you quickly ruffled your dress a little and pinched your cheeks to add some colour. The doors parted slightly and you grinned, happy to finally be seeing him.

“Shift it, Smith, I’m trying to see my boyfriend before the night falls, not Christmas!” You call out to the man opening the doors.

“Alright, alright, miss! You know I’m moving this thing as best I can,” he groans back.

You smile, finally seeing the light from the inside, “Thanks Smith, I knew you’d always do it.”

He sighs in response and lets you walk through. You stride forward, knowing exactly where you were headed. Passing all of the workmen who were baking loaves you nodded your head, “Gentlemen.” They turn and sip their heads slightly, also knowing where you were headed which meant that you were important. Grinning, you listen to the moaning of the barrels being pushed around a floor below, they sure made the loaves sell well.

It was supposed to be a bakery, flour flying everywhere, yeast lying around waiting to be mixed in with the flour and water. It was all a front. And this front sold well.

Alfie trusted you to expand the actual bakery part of the business around the country where you could also set up smaller distilleries round the back of the bakeries. 

You reach an office, with two armed guards on either side, “Goldberg, Abelson,” you address them by their surnames.

“We were beginning to wonder when you were going to return,” Abelson says, “got sick an’ tired of him an’ his antics.”

You laugh and look between the two, “I was beginning to wonder when I’d be able to make it back. Is everyone good at home, kids tiring you out?” 

“Yeah, we’re all good. Goldberg barely walks in awake these days,” Abelson replies.

On cue, Goldberg offers a yawn, you giggle, “I see what you mean. I can practically see the bags under his eyes from a mile away!”

“Don’t you start, I’ve already got this twat going on at me every second I breathe.”

“Oi!” 

As they continue to argue amongst themselves, Alfie comes to the door. You know he has because his office offers the only light back here, it’s mostly concrete and barrels —and you don’t want a light near those barrels. His shadow comes to the frosted glass door and you smile, hoping to catch him off-guard.

He hadn’t known you were coming, you’d kept it as a surprise, hoping that he’d be, well, surprised.

You bounce on your feet, evidently excited to see him — you always were excited to see him.

As his shadow approaches the door you turn, to see if either of the two guards were paying any attention anymore. Hearing them still arguing, you turn back delighted as the door is held open, Alfie seemingly finishing a conversation with someone, you smile wide when you see Alfie and jump — not caring who was there — into his arms and kissing him full in the lips and pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt, gripping the material beneath four fingers and pushing them up his neck. You loved the feeling in his skin beneath yours; it reminded you that he was there, real and vivid.

Pulling away Alfie smiles at you, he’s happy to see you, “I missed you, he says softly,” leaning his forehead against yours.

The coughing, that’s what caught you out. You knew that awkward cough, he’d done it many a time when walking in on you and whichever boyfriend he was about to scare off.

“Tommy,” you turn on your heels, hearing the silence of the building all of a sudden, “what are you doing here,” you nervously laugh and flatten your dress out with the palms of your hands.

The sound of the churning machinery in the background was the only thing you could focus on long enough to calm yourself down.

“What are you doing here,” Tommy counters, “because I was here on business.”

Straight to the point. His eyes were piercing through you, mostly because you were standing in front of Alfie so he couldn’t stare right through him instead.

“Uh, I was telling Alfie about a new prospect I was scouting for a business expansion recently,” and offered a tight smile, not quite meeting Tommy’s eyes. Oddly enough, you had actually been doing this. You worked alongside Alfie whilst still managing to be far away from all of the drama that happens inside the four walls of the ‘bakery’.

You take a small step back so that you lean back and lean against Alfie’s chest. His arms lift the rest on your upper arms either side.

You stopped yourself from closing your eyes at the sense of comfort to face Tommy.

“Alife, eh?” Thomas says, looking to the side, his cap scrunched in his hand, as he stopped himself from cutting him a new smile.

Your eyes widen, “Mister Solomons and I are in partnership,” you manage to sputter out.

Alfie steps forward, deciding not to let you take the fall for it, you are his lover and you shouldn’t be arguing with your own brother about your relationships, “Tom, listen ‘ere, yeah. Me and your sister — your lovely sister — like each other, a lot.”

Tommy chuckles, glaring at Alfie, who was now standing with one arm in front of you, his sleeves rolled up, waistcoat undone and his shirt unbuttoned at the top.

“Unbelievable,” Tommy mutters to himself before raising his voice, “un-fucking-believable! How could you go behind my back and deflorate my little sister — she’s only young!”

“Tom, I wouldn’t do that to you —”

Revelling, you push past Alfie’s forearm weakly holding you back and slam your fists into Tommy’s chest, “How dare you talk about me like I’m not even in the room! Like — like I didn’t have a part in this either,” your arms are hitting your brother’s chest, over and over again, “do not talk about my life — my sex life — in that manner, or at all, ever again!”

Tommy stands, looking at you in shock like he seriously had no idea what he had done and yet he still stood and took your beating, “but you’re my little sister…”

“Yes,” you exclaim, “and yet, here I am, living my own life, walking my own path and loving all on my own!”

You spoke with your hands, pointing at yourself and at the walls but most importantly, at Alfie when you spoke about loving.

The room went quiet, you hadn’t even noticed it slip out of your lips. Your eyes went from holding a rage inside and you kept it that way despite Tommy’s widening in shock even more so than before.

“You — do you — love me?” Alfie says, breaking the silence, lightly touching your arm and turning you around to face him.

As you study him, you see him truly. You can see scars new and old, you can see faint crows feet in the corners of his eyes, there’s so much more and you know it but his eyes, looking at you now, are the softest they’ve ever been.

He’s holding your face between his hands, waiting for an answer, his eyes are patient with you and yet still show how much he adores you within.

“Yes,” you simply reply, “I do, Mister Solomons.”

He gently pulls you in for a loving kiss and when he pulls away, “I love you too Miss Shelby.”

Tommy clears his throat and you both look over to him, “Are you sure?” he asks you.

“I’m sure,” you bite your lip in anticipation and nod your head lightly to Tommy.

Walking away, he seems agitated but he thinks about your happiness and his shoulders relax. Swiftly, he turns around whilst still walking backwards and says to Alfie with his eyebrows raised and a glistening hat pointing at Alfie, “Break her heart and I’ll break your skull.”

Alife merely smiles, waves and replies, “Don’t you worry, Tom. I won’t.”

Watching as he leaves the room, you turn back to Alfie with a mischievous smile, “so, you got any furniture that needs christening?”

He looks at you and smiles, “I’m sure I could find something that needs to be christened in there.”

You giggle and he picks you up bridal-style as he walks off into his office, “I really do love you, Alfie.”

“You too, love, you too.”

[dvp95]

meet me in the afterglow

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: explicit tags: getting back together, smut, hurt/comfort, light angst, happy ending, introspection word count: 1.5k summary: It had been Phil's decision, after all. Okay, technically, it had been a mutual decision, but it had been Phil who actually said the words. They're supposed to be past it by now.

written as a commission fill for ros ♥

read on ao3 or here!

They're sitting on opposite ends of the couch, idly scrolling on their own devices while Buffy acts as a comforting third party on the TV. Ever since he'd first gotten Dan to watch the show, Phil tends to just keep restarting it every time they hit Chosen again. Nothing else is quite as effective in breaking the quiet that could easily get into awkward territory as the familiar snappy dialogue and fight scenes.

Phil hasn't been paying enough attention to the episode they're on. He glances up and sees Tara in the doorway, hears her say, "Things fall apart. They fall apart so hard."

He stands up and mumbles something about going to the bathroom. Dan barely looks away from his laptop, but he asks if Phil wants him to pause the show. Even though they've both seen it so many times, Dan always offers. He's considerate that way.

"No, don't bother," says Phil. "I know how it ends."

Tara is asking if they can skip the hard part of making up and just be kissing again when Phil leaves the lounge. He wonders if Dan is invested enough in the plot to hear the speech, cognizant enough to make the connection to Phil abruptly leaving, or if he's too focused on whatever Reddit thread he's come across to give Tara and Willow any spare thought. Maybe the scene doesn't hit as close to home for Dan as it does for Phil.

It had been Phil's decision, after all. Okay, technically, it had been a mutual decision, but it had been Phil who actually said the words.

They're supposed to be past it by now.

Maybe things would have been easier if they weren't still best friends. They hadn't wanted to get their own places, didn't want to make a bigger deal of the breakup than absolutely necessary. That was a few years ago now - Phil acts like he can't remember the exact date, but he thinks Dan can probably see past his fake cheerfulness every time the anniversary passes - but sometimes it still hits Phil like a fresh wave of bitterness and remorse.

It's not like he's had a lot of experience with this sort of thing. He hadn't had anything that looked like a relationship before Dan tumbled into his life, and there were a lot of things that he thinks he could do better now, if he was given the chance.

They're different people now. Phil has a better handle on his anxiety and a better perspective on what he can do to keep his private life private; Dan has settled confidently into his own skin and gotten through so much of his baggage with his therapist that he's tried to use some of the techniques on Phil whenever he won't talk about his feelings.

"If I wanted to be in therapy," Phil had recently snapped, strung taut by plans of a second world tour coming together to create a terrifying, overambitious picture, "then I'd be in therapy, Dan."

Dan had only shrugged. He rarely seemed to feel any guilt for attempting 'healthy communication', as he always called it. "Just trying to help."

Sometimes Phil hates him for that, but it never lasts. Phil might be able to hold a grudge with the best of them, but that had never applied to Dan. They're too entwined in each other at this point, too purposefully connected in every facet of their lives, for Phil to allow the irritation to make any sort of home in his chest. It's always been easier to let the arguments happen and then let them go.

Phil waits until he can hear Dawn Summers shrieking with happiness over the witches getting back together before he goes back to the lounge. He wonders if anyone would be that happy if he and Dan were to - but that way lies madness. He can't think about that. It's too easy to cling to faint hope that never really went away.

--

Phil can't be sure if it was Buffy that did it or not, but he's inclined to believe that it is. It's too much of a coincidence that Dan would knock lightly on his bedroom door a couple days later and give him a tired sort of grin.

"Hey," he says, and Phil wonders if he forgot to unload the dishwasher last night or something.

"Hi," says Phil. He slides his finger between the pages of his book and closes the cover gently, keeping his place while he gives Dan his attention. "Everything okay?"

Dan shrugs, hands shoved deep in his sweatpant pockets. He looks like he's been awake for too long, like he forgot to sleep again, and Phil's surge of protectiveness feels instinctual. He hates when Dan doesn't sleep, whether it's on purpose or not. It feels like he should be up with him, at least, keeping him company while thoughts ricochet around Dan's brain like a pinball machine.

"Things are," Dan hesitates for a fraction of a second, "fine."

It's pretty obvious to Phil that things aren't fine. He puts the receipt he's been using as a bookmark into his book and sets it aside. "C'mere."

Dan's whole body seems to slump forward in relief, and Phil feels like he's made the right decision. He sits up against his headboard properly and fluffs up the pillow he never uses. It’s the only thing on the side of the bed where a lanky boy took up too much space for so many years. Dan fills it again, sitting next to Phil and curling in on himself a bit. He leans into Phil, his curly head finding somewhere comfortable to rest on Phil's shoulder.

Wrapping his arm around Dan would jostle him, so Phil settles for putting his hand on Dan's knee and squeezing. He doesn't know if this is just one of Dan's hard days, which seem to be getting more and more frequent as the tour looms, or if it's something else entirely.

The room is quiet for a little while. It doesn't get anywhere near the realm of awkward, even with the cuddling. Phil's hope - dormant, insistent - flares again.

"I've been thinking," says Dan.

"Dangerous activity," Phil can't help himself from joking. He wonders if Dan is rolling his eyes or smiling. Or both, he supposes. A lot of the time, it's both. "What have you been thinking about?"

"I've been thinking that I don't want to do this without you," Dan says, a bit rushed. Phil is opening his mouth to ask for clarification when Dan's patented rambling barrels through. "The tour, yeah, but also the - the telling my family about me, which I want to do, but I don't want to do it alone. I don't want to do any of this alone."

Phil risks the grumbling to wrap both arms around Dan, pulling Dan against his chest in a proper cuddle. "You aren't alone. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," Dan says. He looks up at Phil, brown eyes wide and full of meaning and close, and Phil momentarily forgets how to breathe. "I know you're gonna be there for whatever I need you to be there for. I just. I want to do it with you, not just... beside you."

There's a chance, however small, that Phil is misreading the situation. He thinks about that and about the choices he'd made that led to this and about Tara's speech, and he decides that he can't keep pushing his hope down like it's an excitable puppy. He lets it consume him, instead, lets the warmth spread through his whole body before he rests his forehead against Dan's in supplication.

Dan doesn't seem to be asking for penance. Dan is asking for something much simpler.

--

There are a lot of things that Phil loves in this world. Pancakes, Buffy, the way a dog's tail wags when he says hello to them, so many things he could list for days and not even be close to hitting the end. Even so, there's nothing quite like the needy noises that echo around the room when Phil takes Dan's cock deep into his throat, twists his fingers inside Dan, keeps eye contact with Dan to watch the way he falls apart. He watches Dan arch up, sweat beading on his forehead, and feels Dan's hand pushing and pulling in his hair. Dan falling apart - that's what Phil loves most in this world. He can't believe he went so long without it, no matter what his reasons were at the time.

--

"Like riding a bike," Dan laughs and collapses against Phil's chest. His mouth follows a path from Phil's collarbones to his jaw, ending at his well-abused lips.

Phil grins into the kiss. He wants Dan closer, impossibly. He's got his arms around Dan, Dan's legs bracketing his hips, he's still inside of Dan, but it doesn't feel like enough. They trade lazy, sweaty kisses until Dan eventually starts complaining about needing a shower.

He isn't ready to let go of Dan again, even for a handful of minutes, but that's not a problem - although it hasn't been taken advantage of yet, the shower in this flat is definitely big enough for the two of them.

[edensbuttercups]

Golden lights - Part three

Pairing: Jaskier x reader Summary: Everything is going on well, until something changes.  Word count: 1.5k A/N: I’m having so much fun writing this. We’re slowly getting somewhere. Also every time someone comments, just know that I have happy tears streaming down my face so thank you, I love you. 

Part one Part two Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part Ten Part Eleven

You walked hand in hand, the soft scent of calendula following you with every step. You walked through the door and into the small room you shared. The space was small, even smaller now that he lived with you, but he made everything so much brighter. You shuffled in the corner, where you kept all of your clothes, and picked some up for him. You turned around, handing them to him. He grabbed them, getting closer to you as he placed them on the bed, as his hands slowly reached for the small ribbon on top of you chest, untying it and making it slip on the floor. He placed soft kisses on your shoulders, his eyes glancing up at you ever so often. 

He had always been a romantic, he loved with such a passion and found beauty in everything. He built you up in every possible way, truly seeing you as a gift from the universe, and you did the same, basking in his words, in his smile, in his being. You grabbed the hems of his shirt, still damp, and pulled it over his head. You found his lips as his hand found its way to the small of your back, pulling you in before dragging you down onto the bed. You had made love many times before, him always needy of giving love and receiving it, you always gripping to him, whispering his name as he moved in you, your souls tangling and dancing together, until you collapsed on the bed, still holding on to each other until the morning rays kissed you cheeks, waking you from your slumber. And this time it hadn’t been different. The light from outside peered in, almost shy as afternoon clouds warned of an upcoming storm. “Should we just stay here?” You asked softly. “And let the night slowly swallow us, and start everything again tomorrow morning? That does sound nice.” He smiles as he placed a small kiss on your forehead, just as his stomach growled in response. “Well it appears that someone doesn’t agree!” You giggles, pointing at his stomach. “Does yours have anything to add?” He pointed at yours this time. “Well eggs it is then! And potatoes. Ooh, do we still have tomatoes in the garden? I loved that thing you did last week when you fried the eggs with tomatoes and... basil maybe?” “That was the one, yes! I’ll go get some tomatoes, you go get the eggs. We should still have some basil on the windowsill”. You hopped in the garden, the warm sun shining on your face, warming you up and making small freckles appear on your skin. You gathered what you needed and started walking back, enjoying the moment as the breeze softly led the way towards your home. You cooked in unison, no more burning rags, no more accidents, except the occasional cuts on yours or his fingers, but plenty of laughs, and kisses, and loving, and jokes, and songs.

Life was good. And that’s how it went on for some weeks, until another storm came, and this one stubborn, not leaving its place over your heads, rain pouring down all day, everyday. You had made it into a game in the beginning, jumping in puddles on your way back from your foraging expeditions, bowing when the thunder clapped at the end of a song, showering in the warm rain as you danced together. But as time went on, your crops slowly started to perish. You managed to save most of them, expertly knowing when to pick what, just before the rain drowned the roots of the plant, killing it with the thing that usually made it thrive. The rain wouldn’t stop, and even though nothing felt different about it, people in the village had started blaming it on a curse. You didn’t believe in curses, but their words wouldn’t leave your mind. You didn’t want Jaskier to worry, so you didn’t mention anything to him, but you had decided to avoid going to the village as well as the forest as much as possible, blaming it on the rain. A week had passed, and you had started to feel calmer, not as worried as you had been. You left Jaskier home, as he prepared some food for the day, and walked to the forest, looking for some herbs to cook with and some to heal. You weren’t hoping to find much, but the rain had stopped, and you needed some fresh air. You hadn’t walked far, just enough to reach the lemon tree that you and Jask used to sit under years ago. You looked for a small carving at the base. He had made it one night; you had argued, god knows about what, and you had walked away, angry and sad, ignoring him and his pleads. He wrote a simple word at the base, “together”, and tied a red ribbon to a branch. He later explained to you how he had read a story about a red string of fate. He promised that no matter how far you two where, a red string would unite you, never breaking. You smiled and picked some lemons, sure that you’d use them later on. You walked some more, looking up at the trees, at the birds, the squirrels, and then down at the ground, finding berries, herbs, and pretty flowers. You didn’t expect to find so many things.

You turned around, stopping dead in your tracks as you saw a figure, laying on the ground, a slight twitching making its body move. You tightened the small bag on your back, slowly approaching the dark shape. A branch cracked under your feet, making the figure move, as his cape fell of his face, revealing white hair, covered in blood, and tired golden eyes, struggling to stay open. You gasped and moved closer, but stopped when he motioned towards a tree, not far from you, where a creature lay under. “I don’t-“ he struggled to talk but carried on after a short groan “-know if he’s dead”. His eyes met yours, almost begging you to stay away. It wasn’t something you would’ve done in the past, but you knew he was going to die without immediate help. You took another step and crouched next to him, placing a hand on his sword. He tried to hold you back, but he was weak, and you were fast. You stood up, the sword heavy in your arms, glistening silver and red as you walked towards the beast. Its body was covered in blood, its fur hiding gashes on his skin. He emitted a blood-curdling scream break the silence as it jumped towards you, your sword already up in the air, as you swung it towards its neck. Blood splattered on you as its body fell on the ground, still. You tried to ignore your shaking hands, you tried to calm your breathing.  You turned around and walked towards the man. You placed his sword back, and pulled him up, placing an arm under his and dragging him up. “Let’s get you patched up, hmm? My house isn’t far.” He groaned in response, his body heavy and you slowly made your way home. It took longer than you thought to reach the cottage, his legs barely cooperating. He had lost lots of blood, you didn’t know how much chance he had of surviving, but you were going to try your best. You opened the door with a kick, a worried Jaskier glancing at your body covered in blood. “Oh my- Darling, what happened? Are you alright? I knew I should’ve come with you, I-“ “Jask. Prepare some water, cloth, needle and string, and gather some herbs. I’ll take care of-“ You saw his eyes shifting from your body, to the man you had been carrying. You suspected you knew who he was but helping him was the most important thing. But Jaskier’s face showed too many emotions to count, one second anger, then regret, then helplessness, fear, and finally resolution. He turned and gathered everything you needed, as you sat next to the man, now lying unconscious on the floor, examining the open wounds. He sat next to you, as you cleaned the deep cuts and added the herbs to help the healing process. The silence was deafening, so you broke it. “Is he…?” you stopped, not knowing how much you should say, knowing how much Jaskier had been affected by the Witcher. “Geralt.” He nodded, looking at the Witcher. “Is he going to be alright?” he asked, almost a whisper. “He’s going to need some luck, but he should make it. We’ll have to take care of his wounds every day, but in a couple of days he’ll be able to start moving, and in a week, he should be able to stand up and do some basic things.” You explained while wrapping the last piece of cloth on his arm. You placed a hand on Jaskier’s, as he turned to you and kissed you softly. “He’s a friend. What he said hurt me, but it brought me to you. So, I’m thankful. I don’t want to see him like this. He saved me many times, and I think this time is my turn.” You placed a kiss on his cheek, resting on his shoulder. “Our turn.” You said, looking up to him, a small smile on your lips, as he nodded, wrapping his arm around you.

[iellarenuodolorian]

Mandoctober Day 11

Sorgan

Words: 1.5k

Pairing: DinDjarinxFemaleMandalorianReader

Summary: Reader catches up with Din and learns about some new changes in his life.

Warnings: mentions of jealousy and fighting, there isn’t really a whole lot in this chapter its fairly tame *shrugs*

Sorry this is a day late, I’ve been feeling a little burnt out with working every day this last week, and the stress of flying for my sisters wedding this weekend isn’t helping my mentality either.

~9ABY

Another clan successfully resupplied and a crisis averted. You were exhausted, it was more work than you thought it would be to keep Mandalorians from breaking out into civil war in these new blended clans. Why couldn’t they put aside their personal differences and come together as Mandalorians so that the Tribe could rebuild and take back their rightful place in the Galaxy.

With the Darksaber having been lost years ago, and no plan to get it back any time soon, all of the clans were struggling to not start petty fights with each other. Making your job harder.

Bo-Katan had asked her Nite Owls to do their best in keeping the clans supplied, and to trust her. She said she was putting together a team and a plan but she couldn’t share the details. She needed everyone to trust her and that she would bring the Darksaber home, even if it was the death of her.

As you sat in your cockpit, ready to put in coordinates for home to resupply your own ship, your comm pinged with an incoming voice transmission.

“Cyar’ika, it’s me. If you get this, I’m sending you coordinates to a planet I’m currently holed up on. I have some… developments, I need to tell you about. We’ll be waiting.”

A coded text message followed at the end for you to decrypt. It took less than a minute to decrypt and send to the navicomputer, and when the computer told you the name of the planet, your mind blanked. You had never heard of it before. Which was no small feat, considering Mandalorians had established secret bases on an astounding number of planets in different systems.

Pulling up the file from the Holonet, you discovered Sorgan was on the list of “uncharted planets” in the Galaxy. There was nothing on this planet. There was no significant import or export trade, there was no certified port, there weren’t even any heavily populated cities. How did this planet slip through the cracks? It would be perfect for a clan in hiding.

Your mind flashed back to the last words Din had spoken, “We’ll be waiting.” WE?! Who is this “we” he is speaking of? Other than you, Din had never really been overly friendly or one to take on traveling companions just for fun. Just what you wanted to think about on the hyperspace journey to Sorgan…

Once you arrived in system, you pulled up the frequency to track the Crest, hoping he still hadn’t discovered the tracker. But you couldn’t get a return ping. That was odd. Just one more mystery to solve, because you loved mysteries.

You decided to start in the most heavily populated area you could find, which wasn’t saying much. All the buildings were primitive, made from mud and smaller tree limbs and the people inside the huts were just as primitively dressed. You felt sorry for planets like this that lived without even the most basic of technological advances to make life a little easier.

You had opted for a less conspicuous disguise, leaving your beskar’gam on your ship, wearing simple trousers with a standard issue blaster strapped to your thigh, standard boots with your vibroknife tucked into the side, an ordinary shirt and vest with pockets for all your hidden detonators and spare power packs, and a scarf to hide your face. You had also painted your face with strategic tattoos to help hide your real identity since you had taken your helmet off.

When you walked into the cantina, everyone stopped to stare at the new stranger for a while. Apparently they didn’t get many outsiders. Good thing I didn’t walk in here in full beskar’gam everyone would definitely remember that. And then I’d be in even more trouble. Picking a table in the corner where you could see the entrance, you sat down and prepared to wait and see if you could overhear any useful information. You ordered food and drink from a chatty waitress, and settled in to wait.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long. No sooner had you finished eating when this shiny silver, walking weapon walked through the door. He seemed familiar to you, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. He walked closer, and you saw that it was the same blaster Din preferred to carry, his weapons belt was set and stocked the way Din liked, even his bandolier was the same, complete with the small pouch for written sentimental messages above his left collarbone.

“Nice disguise.” Said a voice that sounded exactly like Din’s. He sat down in front of you, making himself comfy and acting like he owned the place.

Leaning forward to stare into the familiar helmet visor, you barely whispered, “Djarin?” The slight tilt of his helmet to the left told you that you had guessed right.

“Come on,” he stood up and offered you his hand. “I have some surprises for you.”

Once you walked out the door, you saw a repulsorsled waiting. It was loaded up with supplies, and this curious looking silver pod. Making yourself comfortable on a few crates next to Din, you settled in for the ride.

“So where did this shiney new set come from?” You asked Din.

“It’s a good thing we have a while before we get to the village…”

Din told you about how he had risen to be the top bounty hunter in his Guild. How he had been given a job directly from a Client, with a reward of beskar. After teaming up with a droid, “No way, you HATE droids!”, to take out the guards around the asset, Din discovered that the asset was in fact a child. He had to rebuild the Crest because Jawas had managed to break in and steal most of his parts, and when he turned the asset in to the Client, he had a change of heart. Children are to be protected at all cost in Mandalorian culture. Children are the future and without passing on traditions and armor the Mandalorians would cease to exist. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live with his decision of just turning over an innocent child for Maker knows what, so he went back and rescued the child from an Imperial safe house and was now on the run. He knew it would only be a matter of time before another hunter showed up to try and steal the Child from him.

Din entered a command on his vambrace, and the silver orb that had been floating next to you opened. And this small green thing stared into your soul with its dark brown eyes. “What is it?” You asked Din as you continued to stare at it.

“I don’t know. All I knew was that I couldn’t leave it to be a science experiment for the Empire.”

When you arrived at the village, you were surprised to see all the children come running out to greet you. It seemed like Din was a hero to the village, everyone just seemed to adore him and the green child.

After helping unload the supplies, Din showed you to where he and the child had been sleeping. “A week ago we helped run off a local band of raiders. Wasn’t anything too difficult, but you know how plans go. Sometimes they don’t always go exactly like you think.”

After dinner, you sat outside the hut with Din and watched all the children in the village playing together. Listening to their delighted laughs and cries of surprise and watching them chase each other around made you envious of their innocent little lives. And now you understood why Din had stepped up to help protect the village. Looking at the children, you knew you would have done the same thing.

“Have you thought about leaving the green one here?” You asked Din.

“If I knew he would be safe and well looked after, I could consider it. I know the life of a Mandalorian is one that I wouldn’t force upon anyone.”

A short while later, a beautiful woman with long dark hair and dark, expressive eyes came walking over with the child fast asleep in her arms. She passed him off to Din, who nodded his helmet at her in silent thanks. You could tell that there was some sort of connection between the two of them and you weren’t sure if you were feeling hurt, jealous, or proud. Hurt, because he had found someone else to keep his heart company in your absence, jealous because she was more beautiful than you, or proud because you realized she was a more than capable woman and could probably hold her own against you.

As Din turned to head into the barn, she gave a small smile and said, “Welcome to our village. I hope you enjoy your time here. We will be forever grateful to him for showing us how to defend our home. My name is Omera, by the way. I hope you have a pleasant evening. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. And thank you, Omera.”

You spent the night curled up next to Din, your heart full after so many months apart. You took in all of the textures, smells, sounds, and tastes that were just uniquely Din. You knew you couldn’t stay for more than a couple days, but everyone needed time off with loved ones, and you intended to make the most of a few days with Din.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

As always, thank you for taking the time to read my silly little story 💙💙

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[jjxrafe]

What were you thinking? // David Dobrik Imagine

a/n: hi aw this is my first imagine on this blog haha :’) I hope you guys like it! if you wanna be my friend or talk about david or the dolan twins or both then just message me!!

warnings: angsty, but also fluffy hehe

word count: 1.5k?? around there probs

As drunk as she is, she knows that she’s being dumb. That the person that she should be calling to pick her drunken self up from the bar shouldn’t be him and yet she’s hitting call before she could dwell on it any longer.

“Hello?” He answers, confusion clear in his voice.

“Can you please come pick me up? I-I’ve been drinking and I just-,”

“Of course.” He interrupts softly, “Where are you?” He replied, and she’s giving away her location as her heart is beating so loudly she’s scared he’ll hear it.

“Okay, I’ll be there in 5. Stay where you are.” He states, and she gives him a soft, “I will, thank you.” In return before she hangs up.

Six minutes go by when he pulls up to the bar, and she’s hesitant to get into his car despite the fact that he’s already here. She must’ve thought about it too long though because now she can hear the window rolling down and the music being turned down slowly.

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s time to go.” He shouts from the car and turns the music back up. She nods her head and stumbles over the 10 steps it takes to get to his car, and slams the door once she gets in.

“You put on cologne?” She asks, looking at him once she buckles herself in.

“Mhm.” He hums a reply, to which she ignores and stares out the window instead of doing what she really wants to do, which is stare at him. But she can’t do that anymore, they broke up over a month ago and she isn’t allowed to look at him like he holds the world anymore.

They aren’t in the same friend group. She was friends with the rest of the group, sure, but not enough that she was around them all of the time. She was able to not be around him for the whole month or so that they’ve been apart and although most of her thoughts have been about him, she was still able to clear her mind.

The breakup was messy like most breakups are. It started with a fight, which escalated into more things being revealed that they were both holding in and it just got so bad that they decided to end their year and a half long relationship

It isn’t until a song ended and then another one comes on that she feels how tense it is. She heard the first note and could feel herself freeze up and her heart starts to pick up just like it did when she were calling him. The song being played was played on accident because she know his songs are shuffled but it doesn’t take away from the fact that the song playing was your guys’s song.

The lyrics don’t even have a chance to start before silence is filling the air instead, causing her turn to look at David like she wanted to.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He mutters, leaning his head back into the headrest as he slows down at the red light, closing his eyes once he’s completely stopped.

“Like what?” She questioned, returning her eyes back to the road, watching as the light changes to green. “Green.” She states, and his foot is putting pressure on the gas pedal and his eyes are open again.

“Like..nothing. Forget it.”

“Cut the bullshit.” She mutters back, rolling her eyes in the process.

“Don’t look at me like there isn’t anything wrong.” He corrects himself, pulling himself into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

“Pull into a parking spot.” She sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Why?” He questioned, but doing what she says.

“You’re coming inside, and we’re talking. Or yelling, whichever comes first.” She says, getting out of his car.

He debates with himself if he should do this. You’ve been drinking and it’s pretty late, he knows this conversation might not get you guys’ anywhere and yet he’s turning off his car and following you inside.

“Do you care if I change quick?” She asked him once they entered her apartment.

“No of course not, go for it.” He tells her, taking his shoes off and sitting on her couch.

Only a few minutes go by and then she’s coming out of her room, makeup wipes in her hand and party clothes off as she’s now in sweatpants and a big t-shirt.

She goes to sit on the couch too but she’s on the opposite end. She sits down criss crossed and starts removing her makeup.

It isn’t until she’s done taking her makeup off that she notices his position on her couch. His leg is bouncing up and down, his head is in his arms and his fingers are tugging at his hair.

“Are you drunk?” He blurts out, raising his head to meet your gaze.

“Uh- I’ve definitely sobered up but I wouldn’t say I’m sober. Tipsy, at best.” She tells him, “Why do you want to know?”

“Because if we’re having this talk, then it’s because you’re sober and you will mean everything you say. I don’t want to hear things now and then found out tomorrow it was because you were drunk.” He explains. “Are you sober enough for this conversation?” He asks again.

“Yes, David. I think I’m good.” She restates.

“Good! What the hell were you thinking when you decided to call me to pick you up? At a fucking bar, no less.” He exclaims, standing up to calm himself down.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” She admits, “All I knew was that I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N, please don’t make this harder than it already is. I was doing so fucking well without you.” He groaned.

“You’re a liar.” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Unless you just didn’t love me as much as you said you did.” She grumbled.

“Are you kidding? You’re questioning my love for you now?” He retorted.

“No! Should I be?”

“No! I love you so much that it’s taking all of me not to break down in front of you right now!” He shouted, “I’ve tried to stay so strong in front of everybody and online, but this is so hard for me, Y/N. So yes, maybe I’m a liar when it comes to being fine about our breakup, but I would never lie about how much I love you.” He finished slightly out of breath.

“You let us be apart because of your pride? That’s what you’re telling me?” She fumed, standing up too. “Did you even miss me, or was that only me, too? Did it take me calling you to help you figure out that you missed me?” She demanded, pacing back and forth.

“Are you crazy?” He yelled shockingly. “I missed you every day. I missed you as soon as we agreed we were going to break up, and I missed you even more when I saw your name pop up on my screen.”

“Then what took you so long, David? I’ve been waiting for something from you and I got nothing!”

“I needed time, Y/N.” He argued, “It was hard to process that you, the person who I want to be in my life forever, was no longer in my life. I was barely functioning, Y/N. I went to sleep thinking about you, to dream about you, to wake up with the thought of you in my mind. It was hard for me, and it’s still hard for me.” He exploded.

“You want me in your life forever?” She asked, voice back at a normal volume.

He nods, “Yes. Y/N, I might’ve not been here for you but I’m here now and I love you. I love you so much and I don’t want to be without you. Please let that be enough.” He pleaded

“Okay.” She whispered, nodding her head with her eyes closed.

“Okay?” He breathed, rushing up to her and grabbing her face in his hands. Thumbs rubbing back and forth soothingly on her cheeks.

“C’mon, open those pretty eyes for me.” He begs, grinning as he sees her eyes again. It quickly fades when he sees how watery they are. “Hey, hey, hey! Why are you crying?”

“I just love you so much, David! I’ve been hurting so bad and I just love you so much.” She sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck as his go around her waist so he could properly hug her.

“I love you too, baby. So, so much. Look at me.” He says, pulling away from her.

“We’re gonna be okay, I promise.” He nods, reassuring her even further.

“I know we will. I love you.” She repeats herself once more, leaning up to kiss him softly, quickly turning passionate.

“I love you too. Let’s get some sleep, okay?” He asks, and she nods in response, grabbing his hand and walking to the bedroom.

They were both now able to sleep peacefully, knowing that the other will be right by their side when they wake up in the morning.

[honeyandfiregame]

(This was a fic sent in by someone anonymous)

So I’ve decided to just bite the bullet and send this to you even though I still think it’s a bad idea, but ya know I figured I might as well send it even though I’ve only let one other person read my writing and it wasn’t even all my stuff. Also its unedited save for spellcheck probably crappy and I’ve honestly never written fanfiction before so… ya know and well here ya go…

A Sleepless Night (Edited to put under a cut for length (1.5k words))

Ever twisting, ever changing, nothing staying in place for too long, trying to sift through what was real and what wasn’t was like trying to find a coin in the murky silt at the bottom of a pond. Impossible. Truly and utterly impossible to find without some form of assistance, assistance that he never had or would never make it on time within the cold dark clutches of sleep but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. Every. Single. Time. and just like at the beginning and every time thereafter he failed, failed to stop them from being taken, failed to find them, failed to keep them safe and ultimately failed to save them. The look of fear, disappointment and disgust on their face every time he came within a hair’s breadth of saving them broke him a little more with each passing failure, though it was a dream and he knew it was a dream when his already twisted mind would always supplement their captor with a demon from his past. Still, it did nothing to lessen the hurt or soften the accusatory look in their eyes right before she sliced their throat, nor did it lessen the feeling of his heartbreaking every time he watched the life leave their eyes and their limp lifeless body falling to the ground. The sudden jolt of being violently ripped back to the waking world made his head spin, the low throbbing ache of a migraine behind his eyes had him pressing a hand to the bridge of his nose as he tried to subside it but did nothing, just like he thought. His body tensed, carmine eyes scanning the room looking for signs of a threat before his sleep-addled mind could catch up and distinguish between dream and reality. It took him a moment to figure out why. It was dark, and he was awake. Why was he awake? What had woken him up? The dreams, once they got ahold of him never let him go before morning if sleep actually managed to snare him in it’s cold, dark embrace. Darkness still cloaked the room though it seemed darker than normal, he looked out the window to find the moon was nowhere to be seen, it had been full before he’d accidentally fallen asleep but now it was pitch black. A flash from the outside lit up the room, a loud crack of thunder following almost immediately, his shoulders sagged in relief, both at having woken up and finding the cause of his awakening. A crippling combination of helplessness and sadness washed over him at the thought of why the thunder had woke him. Before he had met them he could sleep through almost anything, even Zenos shouting and pounding on his doors, breaking those doors down and storming up the stairs all while shouting to his room. Only when Zenos would place a hand on him would he jolt awake and thunder was no exception to this rule, not before he met them that is. One night a few months back a slight chill had awoken him from one of the few peaceful nights sleeps that he’s had in far too long to remember. Sitting up he found the covers gone and the bed empty, fear gripped his heart in an iron embrace when he realized that they weren’t in bed. A flash of lightning lit up the room confirming what he already knew, bed empty and them gone, had they finally grown sick of him and left? He wouldn’t blame them if they had, who would ever willingly stay with someone like him. A loud crack of thunder rumbled and a soft barely audible whimper had him springing off the bed and making his way around to their side, nearly tripping in the process. Before this moment he never knew his heart could feel the way it did, when he found them wrapped beneath the comforter, shaking, hands clutched over their ears as they quietly sobbed to themselves. Reaching out, he gently placed a hand on their shoulder, his heart felt like it was being ripped right out of his chest when they flinched looking up at him with wide and wet shimmering eyes, full of terror. He had never felt anything like what he was feeling right now, in this moment, a feeling unlike the normal cold, uncaring feeling that consumed his heart day in and day out, it hurt. Right down to his very soul along with a feeling of helplessness the likes of which he’d never felt before either, he’d felt helpless of course, but not in the way he felt right now. Another bright flash promptly followed by thunder had them flinching again, shaking even more than before and before he knew what he was doing, he was on the ground beside them, wrapping them in a tight embrace. He kept them in his arms until the storm passed and kept holding them even after it had gone. Kept holding them until they stopped crying and shaking. Kept holding them until they fell asleep and wouldn’t let them go until they awoke in the morning, all the while rubbing their back in hopes of soothing them even a little. Memories. Almost always painful, rarely pleasant. He shook his head trying to free himself from the memories and the last of sleeps embrace. The room was brighter now and he looked to the window. Damn, he thought to himself as he gazed at the full moon outside his window, “still night,” he mumbled to no one and flopped back down on the bed resting his arm over his face. Night, night always felt longer than the day, especially when lying alone in the darkness with nothing but thoughts to keep you occupied, he could reach over and flick on the lamp beside the bed but something always felt wrong trying to chase the away darkness of night with something so harsh and artificial. Lamplight was fine for the hours before bed but always felt wrong at this time of night… or would it be classified as morning now? He wasn’t sure, either way, it always felt wrong to use false light when most of the city was sound asleep. The peaceful sound of his sleeping dogs snoring beside the bed didn’t help much tonight and on any other night, the gentle snoring would be a welcome comfort and reminder that he wasn’t alone. The empty spot beside him was a glaring reminder that he was alone, that the horrors bestowed upon him by those few much needed but oh so unwanted minutes sleep were all too true. They were gone, just like the twisted dreamscape of his mind had shown him and as with the dream he was powerless. Powerless to protect them from a fate worse than death but he was determined to find them before his dreams could be made reality. Sighing he ran a hand down his face and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, hell he only wanted to rest his eyes a moment but his body had different plans. Not eating or sleeping for the past few days would do that to anyone, more so when a person is running themselves ragged tearing the city apart. He got up off the bed and walked towards the door, nearly tripping on the forgotten pile pillows, blankets, clothes. Anything soft that also had his scent on it, they had made the nest out of his things when he was away on a mission. It had been late when he got back and found them sleeping in it, his dogs curled up tightly against either side of them, their wigging tails the only indication that they had heard him enter. He was already tired when he’d come home that night but his body decided that it was done right then and there, he motioned for the dog against their back to move and they did, waiting for him to get comfortable before turning in a circle and squishing against his back. He had fallen asleep with a soft smile on his face that night. A smile at being home and at how close they had gotten to his dogs since they had been absolutely terrified of them in the beginning. The next morning they had promised to take the nest apart and put things back where they got them from but he told them that so long as he got his clothing back the rest could stay. He sighed again, shaking away the memory, another one that hurt him more than he thought it should. When he patted his leg, both dogs sprung up and trotted to his side, together they walked down the stairs and headed for the kitchen despite not having an appetite. He would force himself to eat for them if he had to, keeping his strength up was the only way to guarantee he’d be able to kill every last one of the bastards who took his dragon from him. He wouldn’t only stop at just the grunts, oh no, anyone involved even remotely would have hell to pay and then some when he was done with them.