#anyway this prompt can be taken so many different ways

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 225

Adjective: Soft

Noun: Obsession

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Soft: easy to mold, cut, compress, or fold, or not hard or firm to the touch; having a smooth surface or texture that is pleasant to touch, or not rough or coarse; rounded, or not angular; having a pleasing quality involving a subtle effect or contrast rather than sharp definition; (of a voice or sound) quiet and gentle; (of rain, wind, or other natural force) not strong or violent; sympathetic, lenient, or compassionate, especially to a degree perceived as excessive, or not strict or sufficiently strict; (of words or language) not harsh or angry, or conciliatory, or soothing; (of news or other journalism) regarded more as entertainment than as basic news; willing to compromise in political matters, or moderate; not strong or robust; (informal) (of a job or way of life) requiring little effort; (of a drink) not alcoholic; (of a drug) not likely to cause addiction; (of radiation) having little penetrating power; (of a detergent) biodegradable; (of pornography) suggestive or erotic but not explicit; (of a market, currency, or commodity) falling or likely to fall in value; (of water) containing relatively low concentrations of dissolved calcium and magnesium salts and therefore lathering easily with soap; (informal) foolish, or silly; (informal) infatuated with; (of a consonant) pronounced as a fricative (as c in ice)

Obsession: the state of being obsessed with someone or something; an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind

[yurmomsawh0r]

•°His Perfect Little Wife °• - p2

You and Nanami’s relationship has been a little difficult during your pregnancy and one turn of events has you ready to divorce him. But Nanami would never let you leave. You were his wife and he’d never let you go.

@delightfulmoonbanana @i-killed-a-prostutute @muzanswaifu @ebonydumbslut

Sorry it took super long! I’m pregnant with a toddler and it’s super hard to have energy to write anything, but I’m definitely coming back on here because YALL, I have soooo many ideas in my notes for tumblr and oof I can’t wait to drop them! But I hope you enjoy part 2 it’s different from part 1 because I kinda had to make it a small story but anyways enjoy 😊 💙

Prompt idea by @ebonydumbslut

“ I’m literally fina write a whole plot feel free to just take parts from it but I’m thinking For his perfect wife maybe yandere and Angst like since y/n pregnant she hasn’t been at her best with waking up on time doing things for her husband hasn’t felt like having sex so her husband hires a maid and y/n can tell that she is trying to take her husband away being to Close and saying things like “ofc I will make you food if you were my husband with how hard you work I would make sure you didn’t even have to ask he doesn’t see it but y/n does he’s also been a little distant and hasn’t been able to see her much because when he comes home y/Ns sleep y/n know this and stays up untill he’s home and by the time she gets all pretty for him she walks down stairs to see her husband and the made doing something that looks inappropriate (yk how In the movies someone walks in at the wrong time and it looks wrong) anyways she runs to her room and he goes after her to tell her it’s not what it looks like and y/n is getting ready to go to her moms house or something she tells him that he can have the maid and she’s going to leave and this is we’re the yandere starts he tells her she can’t and what about there baby and whatever else you want he makes y/n feel bad and she stays then he shows her how much he loves her by yk having sex’s loud to the maid hears everything while there having sex he tells her how she knows that she can’t leave because she needs him she’s to much of a dumb slut to do anything without him all she’s good at is being his perfect little wife y/n falls into this brain washing and promises she will never leave and that she’s his and will always be you could also put some fluff in there sorry for how long this is I Basically could have made the book for you😭”

CW - Yandere-ish, Manipulation, mentions of cheating, pregnant reader, penetration, pregnant sex, cursing, pet names, mentions of a divorce

Part 1 here

–

Nanami was frustrated to say the least. Between working extra hard and keeping your need’s satisfied, he definitely had his hands full. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he typed away on his computer. It was going on another late night and he had many things to get done. It always felt like he’d never have another second for himself or for you.

A knock on the door had an oh - so, very tired Nanami shifting in irritation. “What?” Came his groggy, stress filled voice. A subordinate of his walks through the door. A file in his hand. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to drop off my report you requested.”

“Place it in the black tray.”

The man did what he was told, quickly placing it in the tray and making his way out of the office.

Nanami glanced at the clock and seen that is was going on 1 am in the morning, making a sigh leave him. He knew you’d be in bed by now. You both couldn’t seem to catch a break. Nanami thought about the conversation you both had about hiring a housekeeper. You were about 4 months pregnant and you’ve grown quite a lot. It was getting hard for you to keep up your regular routine.

Nanami has even taken it upon himself to be home more to help out, but it was definitely putting him back, which resulted in him having many late nights and causing him to be way more irritated than normal. Anytime you both found a moment to yourselves, you would be to tired to do anything. You slept way more than you normally would these days, which he didn’t mind. It wasn’t your fault you ended up pregnant.

It was decided, he would take it upon himself and hire a housekeeper as soon as possible once he was able to cut back his work load.

~*~

It’s been about 3 weeks since the new maid started working for you both. She had tremendously been a big help around the house keeping things tidy and organized. Although you’ve had more help around the house, you still haven’t been able to see your husband for a while. The times you both did run into each other, he would always seem irritated with you. You knew work has been hard since he’s been catching up, so you decided to suck it up and do the things he normally liked.

“Oh! I see you cooked dinner Martha!” You honestly weren’t surprised. The past week she had been taking over in the kitchen before you even had a chance. “It was no problem. I understand that you’ve been tired lately.”

Although that was true, you usually pushed yourself to cook dinner for your husband but you haven’t been able to because she always did. It kind of bothered you, but you decided to try and be grateful for all the help.

“Well thank you, I can prepare the plates for dinner, as well as Nanami’s lunch for tomorrow. You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh no need ma’am. I already prepared his lunch as well as his plate for dinner.” She spoke. This was another thing that bothered you. She always took it upon herself to do more than she needed. You even seen that she left a note on his lunch one time. It was a small “Have a great day at work.” But you felt as though she crossed a boundary. This was your husband, not hers. Leaving notes wasn’t in her job description.

Before you could say anything else, the front door opened and in walked your husband. You went to greet him as usual. Helping him remove his coat and hanging it up for him. “Hi honey! How was work.”

He only grunted. “It was work.” Was all he said and brushed passed you, not a single glance your way. Not even a small forehead kiss as he usually did. An ache in your heart throbbed through your body.

In the kitchen, you could hear Martha speaking to him. As you went to peak, you seen her placing his plate in front of him and pouring him a glass of wine.

You couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt you to see the small act, but it did. Your own sensitive emotions plus being pregnant didn’t help, the tears started to flow. You turned on your heels and made your way to your shared bedroom skipping dinner that night.

Weeks had passed and still nothing had changed, well except you did. You weren’t yourself. You had completely stop doing your house work and just left it to the maid since, she took it upon herself to do everything. So you just rested in bed most of your days falling asleep when ever he felt like it.

You haven’t seen your husband for most days. By the time he came home you were already in bed passed out.

Martha had also been getting a little too close to your husband for your liking but Nanami didn’t seem to care to stop her advances so you assumed that maybe your were making things up, but you couldn’t help but think about all the little smart remarks she took it upon herself to say.

“Wow, you’re such a hard working man, if you were my husband I’d be sure to reward you everyday.”

“Would you like me to give you a massage sir?”

Maybe she was being nice? Maybe you were reading into it a little too hard. Either way Nanami didn’t seem to mind her forwardness so maybe you shouldn’t either.

Having enough of your pity party, you finally decided that it was time to put an effort in getting your husband’s attention again.

That night you got yourself all clean and dolled up in one of his favorite lingerie pieces and one of his t-shirts. He loved seeing you in his clothing. He always told you it made him feel like the best man in the world seeing his woman comfortable in his attire. It was almost 1 in the morning, the usual time he had gotten home. You had waited all night, despite being so tired, to see him. Lights shown through the curtains and the sound of a motor vehicle pulling into the drive way shook away any traces of sleep you had in you.

This was it! Tonight’s the night you and your husband rekindled.

~*~

Nanami walked through the door tired as ever. He was finally done with playing catch up and attending hour long business meetings for the month. He’s finally be able to catch a break. He felt as though he had be in a trans working and powering through his long streak, and finally he would be able to settle down for a while.

He made his way to the kitchen to look for something to eat. I was a little after 1 so he knew you’d be sleeping.

When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see Martha standing there in nothing but a small tank top and shorts to short for her size.

“Oh! Nanami, I didn’t think you’d be home just yet. Are you hungry?” Nanami only grunted and moved passed her and headed towards the fridge.

“Would you like wine with your meal sir?” The sultry tone of her voice rung in his ears. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before shrugging it off. “No thank you, not tonight.”

He told her with a monotonous tone. He grabbed his plate that was left in the fridge and placed it in the microwave to warm.

“Alright, I’ll just put this back then.” She had a smile on her face as she strut her way towards the wine holder that was just behind where Nanami was standing.

Just inches away from him, she had stumbled, almost dropping the bottle in the process. Nanami kept forward, grasping her in his arms just as he was able to fall, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as if they were lovers about to ignite in a night of passion.

She giggled, pulling him closer. “I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz! It’s a good thing a big strong man like you were here to catch me! You’re just like a knight in shinning armor. And my knight deserves a kiss for saving me.”

As she tried pulling him closer, Nanami started to pull away, but it was too late. A small gasp had them both frozen.

“Oh! My lady! I didn’t think you’d be up.”

There you stood from your stop in the kitchen, watching as your maid and husband were about to share such a passionate kiss. It brought tears to your eyes seeing how good they looked together.

You knew you hadn’t been up to par in taking care of yourself as well as him, but you didn’t think he’d cheat on you for such a small inconvenience.

“Wait! Y/n-“ He called out to you but you just turned and ran to your bedroom to grab everything you needed to leave.

Nanami dropped Martha letting her fall to the floor leaving her in pain as he chased after you.

Once he made it to your shared room, he saw that you were packing a suit case with everything valuable and important to you.

“It’s not what it looked like y/n” he tries to reason with you but you didn’t listen. “I don’t care Nami, it’s not like I haven’t noticed we haven’t been the same in a while. Especially since she got here.”

“What do you mean? I know I’ve been busy, but I’d never do something like that to you. I love you.”

“You don’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t have been all up on her. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done.”

This caused Nanami to freeze. His voice dropped, a menacing tone sounded in his voice. “What do you mean you’re done?”

It sent a chill up your spine but you remained strong. “It means I’m done. I want a divorce. I can’t do this anymore. My own husband doesn’t even want to look at me, let alone act like I exist.”

You finished packing whatever you could and zipped it up, but Nanami was faster than you. He grabbed your luggage and threw it aside, shattering your vanity. “What is your problem! I don’t understand why you are so upset. Go be with your fucking mistress!” You yelled.

“I’m fucking upset because my wife is trying to leave me over a misunderstanding!” He cornered you. His pupils dark and expression angry. It was look you never wanted towards you.

He broke out into a laugh that boomed into the room. “You can’t fucking leave me y/n. You can’t break up our perfect little family that’s just getting started.” His hands slid up the sides of your waist pulling you closer to him.

“I take good care of you and I always will. No matter what. You are mine and I’d never let you go. I need you here with me little one. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided to break up our perfect little life.”

A flood of memories flew through your head. Even images of the future that you thought were to come. You felt a little guilty for trying to leave instead of making things work, but you couldn’t help but think about him being with another woman.

“How long have you been messing with Martha.”

Rage sparked in his eyes as he punched a hole in the wall by your head making your scream. He gripped your chin tightly and forced you to meet his gaze.

“I’ve never touched that fucking woman! She fell and I caught her, nothing more. Do you understand?” When you didn’t respond, he sighed.

“My love. My perfect little bunny, must I show you just how much you mean to me? Shall I show you that nobody can make you feel the things you do for me? Hmm? Must I show you one of the many reason that you love me?”

“Must I remind you who you belong too!?”

~*~

You couldn’t think straight. You really couldn’t think at all. The only thing filling your senses was your husbands dick penetrating you so hard and deep. Your face was wet with tears and saliva that pooled onto the pillow as he drilled into you from behind.

“Ahh, you feel so good little one.” He grunted in your ear. Nanami gripped your neck and pounded deliciously into you. The feeling of your juices getting him going.

It had been too long since you both last had sex and he was going to make it last as long as possible.

“And you’d thought I’d let you leave? With my baby in your womb? You’d thought I’d let another man have you? No, I’d kill anyone who thought they would have a chance.”

Your body shook as another orgasm ripped through you, but he didn’t let up, he just fucked you harder through it. “P-please Nami!”

But your please fell on deaf ears. “No, not until you learn that you can never leave me. You’re mine y/n. You’re nothing but my little dumb slut, my perfect little wife.” He licked up your tears grinding deeper into you.

“Say it! Say that your mine and that you will never leave me! Say that you’ll stay and be my perfect little housewife forever.”

You could feel him going deeper and deeper, skin slapping against each other in perfect rhythm. It was too much, you couldn’t even get a word out. You were moaning so loud and the bed was banging against the wall you were sure it would break. You were also sure Martha could hear everything.

“I’m waiting my little bunny.” Nanami’s voice warmed you. You gushed around his cock even more at his power over you.

He was dominating you. Showing you that you were indeed his. Nobody would make your body feel the way he did. Nobody ever could.

Just as another orgasm ripped through you, you wailed “y-yessss Naaamiiii, yessss i-im yours!”

“You’re my what?” He pressed his shaft into the opening of your cervix making you yelp. “IM YOUR DUMB SLUT DADDY!”

He moaned as he felt you squirt on him. Your essence pooling on the sheets. “Uhhh, that’s it! Let daddy have it all!”

His thrust started to get choppy as he reached his own peak. Spilling all of himself into you. Telling you how much he loved you. How he would never let you go. Ever.

As you both came down, he pulled you into his arms, gently caressing your face and smothering you with gentle kisses. You were exhausted. Falling in and out of sleep with a dazed but satisfied look on your face.

“Fire her.” Was all you could muster up. Nanami laughed and kissed your soft lips.

“Your wish is my command my lady. It always will be.”

You both laid there in each others embraces.

“But don’t think I’m done with you my love. You have awoken a part of me by just telling me your going to leave me. I need to make sure that never happens again.”

His perfect little wife, forever and always.

[jjkamochoso]

Don't You Know This is a Date?!

Fluff

Gen Narumi x gn!reader

Gen takes you on a date; you’re unaware that’s what’s going on until the end of the night!

Warnings: none

You were just about to file your last report of the day when you heard footsteps come up from behind you, whoever it was clearing their throat to get your attention. Turning around, you grinned when you saw who it was.

“Narumi! You’re always a face I look forward to seeing. How can I help?”

It never ceased to amaze you just how different Gen was off the battlefield versus on it. When he was fighting kaiju, he would be the most confident, cocky guy you’d ever known, always calm, cool, and collected. Now, however, in the depths of the First Division’s base, the disheveled, hoodie clad man standing before you was like a whole other person.

“L/n! I had a, uh… question… for you.”

You looked at him expectantly, his handheld video game console or phone nowhere to be found; that was the first strange thing about him. The second thing was how nervous he was acting.

“Gen? You alright? You look like you’re about to confess to a murder or something,” you joked, but he didn’t laugh so you tried not to either.

“I… waswonderingifyouwantedtogotodinnerwithme,” he blurted, talking so fast you could barely understand what he said.

“Dinner?” you asked, confirming that was correct. Indeed it was because he shook his head.

“Tonight?”

He gulped. “Yeah.”

“Of course. That sounds nice,” you replied happily, wondering why he was acting so weird about something so trivial. You often went to dinner with your peers and you were good friends with Gen so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Even if you did harbor a secret crush on the handsome captain, going on a platonic outing like this was sure to be pleasant anyway.

“What time do you want to meet?” you wondered, prompting him to share more details.

“Oh! Right. I’ll meet you at your room at 7? Does that work?”

“It’s perfect. I’ll see you then.”

You sent Gen a blinding smile and he stood in a daze as he watched you get back to work. All of a sudden, the hood of his sweatshirt was being yanked back as he was dragged out to the hallway, sputtering from his sweatshirt almost choking him.

“Don’t you have work to do, Narumi?” fumed Vice Captain Hasegawa, releasing his hold on the man. “Stop ogling. You’re wasting time.”

“I wasn’t ogling! And even if I was, you don’t have to be so mean about it,” complained Gen as he walked away, nursing his minor injury.

“Young love makes me sick,” Hasegawa muttered.

7pm came and Gen was at your door right on time. He cleaned up well: his hair was lightly tamed, being the right amount of messy, he had changed from his sweatshirt into a nicer track jacket with a white t-shirt underneath, and he was wearing a cologne that smelled outrageously delicious.

If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought we were going on a date!

“You look amazing,” he complimented as he led the way to the restaurant.

“So do you,” you replied kindly. You two fell into easy conversation as you always did and you arrived to the restaurant in no time. You thanked Gen as he held the door open for you and you were taken aback by the extravagant interior. Gen had chosen a very upscale restaurant!

“So this is where your salary disappears to every month?” you teased.

“Nope,” he responded, his red eyes catching the light of the chandelier above, giving them an ethereal glow. “I chose this place just for you.”

Just for me?

You shook off the warm, fuzzy feeling that sentence gave you. You knew he didn’t mean it in a romantic way; it had come up in many conversations that you were a foodie and liked to visit all types of establishments. He must’ve remembered that you hadn’t had the chance to eat at very many high end restaurants so that’s why he brought you here. You both ordered appetizers and entrees, sharing portions of your meals with each other, all while having a grand time, laughing and chatting nonstop. You denied getting dessert, knowing there was a great bakery down the street.

“You ready to go?” he asked, standing up from the booth across from you.

“We haven’t paid yet. I’m no dine and dasher, Narumi.”

“I already paid for us.”

You gasped. “Gen! Nuh uh, no way! That was way too expensive! Tell me how much I owe you.”

He crossed his arms defiantly. “Nope.”

“Gen. I’m serious.”

“Never gonna happen.”

You groaned, putting away your wallet. “I’m going to start shoving money under your door when you’re not looking.”

“Maybe then I could pay Shinomiya back,” he muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing! Time for dessert!”

You were able to get him back for dinner by paying for dessert, happily munching on your sweets together while walking down the street.

“Hey, I used to go to that arcade all the time!” you exclaimed as the light up sign shone bright in the dark of night. “Wanna play some games?”

“You read my mind,” said Gen, and you two ran inside.

You didn’t know how much of your paycheck you spent on tokens, you just knew that the past 4 hours were totally worth it. You and Gen had the absolute times of your lives, playing every game in the building at least twice. You especially loved playing the dancing game with him; he was extremely agile as his feet slammed each of the four squares in time to the music, hitting them perfectly almost every time. The claw games were also a source of entertainment for you both, angrily walking away and swearing you’d never try it again until the big plushie looked at you with its soulful eyes and convinced you to drop even more money trying your hand at grabbing it from the machine. Eventually, after many fails, you finally won and out dropped not one, but two, plushies. You excitedly hugged Gen at your success, relishing in the comfort of being in his arms if only for a few seconds. You happily gave him the other plushie and went back to playing more games, your heart bursting with elation. The arcade employees eventually had to kick you out since they were closing and you decided it was best that you went back home. As you walked to base, Gen right next to you, you wished that you could do this with him more often. Though, you really hoped that next time it could be in more of a romantic capacity.

“So… did ya have fun?” Gen asked, his hands in his pockets as he walked you to your room.

“I always have a fun time with you, Gen, tonight was no different,” you told him with a smile.

“Good. Yeah. That’s good.”

You walked in a comfortable silence until you finally came upon your door and you turned to him, making your plushie wave at him with its little stuffed arm.

“Thanks again for a great night. We should totally do this again sometime!” you exclaimed, the doorknob twisting under your grip. “See you tomorrow!”

“Wait!”

Gen lunged forward before you could disappear into your room, grabbing your hand. In an instant, he closed the gap between you and placed a kiss on your cheek, dangerously close to your lips. You stood there, dumbfounded at what just happened, your fingertips resting on where his mouth was mere moments ago.

“What… what was that for?”

Gen was sporting a deep blush as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s what people do at the end of dates, right?”

Now it was your turn to blush, shock written all over your face. “That was a date? You asked me out and didn’t even tell me?”

“Huh?!” Gen was just as confused as you were. “I asked if you wanted to go to dinner! That’s a date activity, everyone knows that!”

“Apparently not everyone,” you replied indignantly. “I go to dinner with other division members all the time.”

His jaw dropped. “You mean you’ve been going on other dates? Don’t tell me you’ve been sharing plushies with them too!” He quickly stood up straight, practically puffing his chest. “Alright, who’s my competition? I can guarantee I’m better than them in every way.”

You burst out laughing, causing Gen to deflate, his shoulders slightly drooping in the wake of you finding amusement in his actions.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you said. “No, I haven’t been on other dates, they were all dinners between friends. Like what I thought we were doing.” He went to speak up again but you put your hand up, effectively quieting him. “But I’m glad it wasn’t. I’ve liked you for a long time so this works out in my favor.”

He raised his eyebrows playfully. “So can I take you on another actual date then?”

“I would love that.”

“Me too.” Gen exhaled a sigh of relief before smiling and nodding at you. “Have a good night, y/n.”

As he stepped away, it was you who was overtaken by a surge of confidence this time.

“Gen?” you called out, getting his attention. “Let me show you one more thing people do at the end of dates.”

You quickly broke the distance between the two of you, your lips landing on his own. After his initial shock wore off, his hands found their way to your body, resting on your hips while yours were buried in his two toned hair. You opened your mouth a little more and he followed suit, tongues now dancing together as he pulled you in even closer, his hold on you unrelenting. You had lost track of time, too busy kissing Gen and never wanting it to end, but you knew you needed air so you unwillingly parted from his swollen lips, leaving both of you panting from your impromptu make out session in the First Division hallway. Your foreheads leaned against one another as you tried to catch your breath, Gen smirking at you.

“You’ll definitely have to buy me dinner after that.”

[dahliadew]

Danny Fenton assistant to the stars (dp x dc fanfic prompt)

After leaving Amity with little to nothing to his name and refusing any help from Vlad, Danny knows he needs a job, a home, and maybe some health insurance that would be really cool. So Danny applies to as many places as he can, barely looking at the job listing, just putting out as many resumes as possible. And just before he gives up entirely, he gets a callback! Who cares if it's from some shady place called Lex Corp? At this point, a job is a job; all he has to do is work as some weird rich guy's assistant. Great, he can do this; no one is worse than Vlad, and hey, the chances of another billionaire being a supervillain are like super low……. Right?

So Lex has a problem, and that problem is PR; with all the trouble with superman and the justice league, his public perception has been in the toilet lately, and well, he needs to do something before his stock prices fall even more. After looking at different ways to endear himself to the public, he looks to his neighbors across the bay in Gotham. Bruce when from the front page of every trashy tabloid to the face of parenting with his numerous adoptions. And well, he doesn't necessarily want to adopt a whole child but an intern that could work. So he puts a listing up looking for high school to college-age individuals who want experience in business management. Most of what he gets back is worthless until he gets a resume from one  Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. Not only is he the son of two mad scientists, he had an early entry into the junior NASA program, but he's also the godson of one of his supervillain colleagues, Vlad Plasmius. So if he does hire him, he wouldn't have to hide any of his supervillain activities the lad may even be able to contribute to them.

However, in the background, Clack has been monitoring Luther's activity, and once he sees the innocent young man that he has coned into letting him parade around, he becomes concerned. And well, the daily planet has been looking for some new interns. Maybe he can convince the kid to work there instead. It would be for the best anyway, and it has nothing to do with the kid's incredibly slow heartbeat or may or may not have lifted some concrete off of someone during one of superman's battles. Ok, maybe it has something to do with the fact might be another surviving Krypton who was being taken advantage of by Luther. Or he might be a clone, but who knows? Either way, he's going to try to help the kid if only he would stop running away from him.

[firelxdykatara]

sorry not sorry but i'm actually completely fine with getting a version of katara where she wasn't parentified at eight years old (something that was lampshaded but never actually unpacked or presented as something she shouldn't have gone through, it was in fact not part of her arc to work through this in the original show and the proof of that is in the fact that she was shoved into an endgame 'romance' with someone for whom she'd expressed no romantic interest, even when prompted, and whom she spent a large portion of the show mothering). a katara who still had to deal with the trauma of her mother's death, but without having to become her own mother and her brother's mother on top of it in her place. katara whose struggle with waterbending is rooted in trauma, because her power is what her mother was killed for, her mother who died protecting her. katara who struggles to be taken seriously not because she's a silly girl with magic water but because her brother still sees her as his baby sister who needs him to be strong and she desperately wants him to lean on and trust her because that's what she needs to be able to grow.

and i like getting to see sokka actually behaving like a big brother! sokka whose responsibilities to his people and to his sister are treated seriously, rather than as fodder for jokes. sokka who is still a dork and a goofball and a pragmatist but underneath it all is that fear that he isn't actually good enough--that his family and his village don't actually need him, and who is he if his own sister is grown and doesn't need him anymore either? (sokka who is terrified of katara learning to bend not because he doesn't take her power seriously but because that's exactly what got their mother killed, and it's so, so obvious they've had that fight many times before.)

are they the exact same characters we got in the original cartoon? no, but i never expected them to be and frankly i didn't want them to be. something that every fanfic writer doing an AU or canon divergence has to grapple with is how would having these different experiences change the way this character behaves and interacts with and perceives the world. do i think the live action did it perfectly? no, but then the original show was far from perfect to begin with and i never expected perfection in this adaptation.

what i do think, though, is that i can see where certain creative decisions were made and the resulting ripple effect, i can understand the logic behind them--and i can enjoy the end result, because a lot of it is stuff i've rolled around in my brain in the past anyway. and what i really want to see is where things are headed in the future.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Hi! I love your work! Can I request for the seaside prompts nr.19 with Jake? Thank u so much 🩷

the prompt, for anyone who can't remember (i couldn't either, it's been like half a year): "they carry you bridal-style into the water"

also thank you so much honey!!! <33

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

Jake's eyes were fixed on you and you squirmed under his gaze, already dreading whatever was about to come. There was a faint hint of a smile on his lips, but it looked more directed at himself than at you. Your hands slipped off his jaw and came to rest against his bare chest, ready to push him away if necessary.

"What?", you asked carefully, eyeing him up. Not that you had much means to fight whatever it was he had planned. You were spread out beneath him, completely at his mercy. Usually that had you feeling a different type of way.

"Just admiring my beautiful girlfriend", he muttered, his fingers tightening on your jaw again. He pulled you in once more, lips meeting his in a slow, almost lazy kiss. Your shoulders slumped a bit and you relaxed as your hands drew up and down his skin. Sometimes you really were a bit too mistrustful.

Yeah.

Not today though.

You shouldn't have believed him as easily as you did. Because as much as he did stare at you and as much as he did admire you in daily life, today he had absolutely been planning something, sharpening in the back of his mind, and it happened much too quickly for you to realise.

His arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled away, his fingers splayed out against your bare skin and within less than a second (it seemed) he was standing and you were stumbling against him, still a bit light-headed from the kiss. He bent down again to adjust his grip, to lift you up before you could react in practically any way except to loop your arms around his neck and cling to him in shock.

"Jake", you hissed as his arm hooked under your knees, his skin sticking to yours, sweaty and sandy from the sun and the beach. "Jake, whatever you're trying - don't."

If this hadn't been him, you'd probably have found it rather cute. It wasn't the first time he'd had you bridal-style in his arms, but it was certainly not a regular occurrence either. And to be entirely honest, your heart did flutter just the slighest bit.

But it was him. It very much was him. And you knew him. He wasn't the type to sweep you up in his arms and snog you in a moment of sudden romance. He was more the type of guy to-

Oh, hell no.

Your eyes widened in shock as you realised just what he was up to.

But he'd already taken too many steps down the beach.

"Jake, Jake, no!", you screeched, clawing harder at him, clenching your arms around his neck and trying to climb further up his body. "I swear to god, if you-"

You couldn't even finish your sentence. He'd dropped you down into the ice-cold waves before you could get halfway through your threat.

The only redeeming aspect about this was that he didn't completely dunk you. Your head was still very much above the water, your eyes squeezed shut, your breath held, but no water splashed against your cheeks.

"Jake", you squeaked anyway, clinging to him with all your might as he chuckled. "Oh my god, you bastard!"

You kicked your legs off his arm and straightened, your arms still locked tight around his neck. Yeah, he was a bastard - but he was your bastard. And you were cold, so you pressed even closer against him, wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed your chest right to his.

"Couldn't resist, darling", he grinned, and for some sick, twisted reason, you had to grin too.

"This is not a reward", you could only mutter before you leaned in and kissed him - right there, in the middle of the ocean, after he'd just very much dropped you into the water. God, how you despised him. And how you loved him anyway.

[leclsrc]

hi, could you please do the five confessions prompt with charles?

proving my devotion – cl16

genre: fluff, sry charles is a pining yearning mess, title from this

send for five times the receiver almost says ‘i love you’ and the one time they do.

The plates clack against each other, dissonant in the otherwise still evening. Charles stacks one atop the other, awaits his mother’s nosy questioning—the inevitable gamble, every time he brings a girl home—but she’s quiet, humming a song under her breath, the one she always sings when she’s doing the dishes. Something’s different tonight, a slight change he can’t name.

“So,” he starts, because she won’t and the curiosity kills him. His eyes find you, with the ease he’s adopted in the months of knowing you, dancing with Lorenzo on the patio to a Luther Vandross song. “Thoughts?”

“Hmm. Tu es fouineur.” She teases, a glint in her eye. How the tables have turned, she seems to say.

Silently, over the dirty dishes, they both recount the day gone: the lunch moved from noon to half-past-three because Arthur burned the turkey, the dropped bottle of wine you’d gifted because one of Charles’ uncles accidentally let it slip from his hand (you said it was okay, it was just a hundred euros when it was closer to one grand), the guitar performance from Charles.

The way the sun had drowned in a sea of Monaco orange, and with it the stories of weddings, Jules, and Hervé, and the affair moved outside to the patio so Lorenzo could boast his brand new speaker that was so worth the many zeroes on the price tag, maman! And you had quickly found out Charles’ inability to dance was, in fact, genetic.

It’s a new sensation for Charles, a thrilling one, a frightening one even. He squeezes the sponge and watches soap filter through his fingers. He turns, lets his green eyes meet your soft ones. It’s an exhausting effort but he says it anyway, wrenches it out quietly: “I think… I think I…”

“I know,” Pascale says. She presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I see it.”

—

You’d taken home a frayed copy of The Little Prince you bought at a garage sale.

It’s so old, its pages have long yellowed and there’s evidence of past ownership all over it. Most notable of them is a name on the front page, along with a number that’s probably unused now. Isn’t it so quaint—and the words, babe, you’d said with conviction when he questioned your purchase, the words are in French!

You’ve been trying your luck with the language for a good few weeks, but it’s a brick wall—mur de briques, if you go by the textbook on your bedside table. You huff when you can’t translate the last lines of the passage you’re reading, tossing the book onto the empty space beside you that is quickly occupied by Charles’ bulky figure.

“Stuck again?” He asks, opening the dog-eared pages to find where your bookmark is nestled. Under your palms, you groan and nod with frustration.

“Don’t try me,” you say, voice gravelly. “I can’t translate it.”

The rough pad of his index finger traces the yellowed page, and he smiles softly at your many annotations. Verb conjugation, words you found easy, words you still forget now.

His eyes flicker up, to your lying figure, the freckles on your arms, the mole on your hip he can only see because your shorts have ridden down low. His heart swells, seizes, his mind rampant with thoughts of you. Please tell her, he says to himself. Tell her everything. Tell her how you find her in all the passages, in all the French words, in all the books, in all the times she says your name. She’s everywhere, she’s everything. Tell her tell her tell her you lo—

But the realness of it all chokes him, and he says instead, placing a big palm on your abdomen, “I’ll read it for you.”

—

There are few sentences considered odd on a paddock. People say anything on it—driver gossip, car gossip, celebrity gossip, engineer gossip. Charles can guarantee he’s heard some of the weirdest statements and Freudian slips (the one time Christian Horner called Toto ‘dad’) on a paddock. 

“Carlos—pshhfhf—sprayed—pfffsh—whip cream—on my face!” …Okay, that’s. That’s different.

He turns, eyes wide. “What?!”

You stand in the doorway, frozen.

Your face is almost completely covered in white, and bits of your hair have fallen victim to the sweet spray of whip, too. You look frazzled and freaked. “I just got my hair blown out. I did my makeup. Dude. I look like a clown.”

“Oh, my God,” he says, already unable to contain his laughter. “I love you—!”

A millisecond passes him by like an hour. “—r uh, your new makeup hairdo, thing, a-ling. Thing-a-ling. Makeup. Your new makeup.” 

—

There is an angel in Charles’ bed. She leaves a lovebite on his neck.

“Good morning,” he says, gruff. I love— but it stops itself before he can even open his mouth.

—

You get into a minor fight about cooking music.

Charles waves the whisk in the air, claims he will die on the hill of cooking to French jazz. You call it pretentious and crank up the Stevie Wonder. Eventually you fall into a repeated pattern of songs that satisfy the both of you.

“I read somewhere that if you roll basil up,” you say, chewing on a rogue leaf of mint from your pre-dinner mojito and walking up to him, “and chop it, it saves time trying to cut it up by itself.”

“Does it?” Charles asks, entertaining you. You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. He raises the knife in his hand, mumbles careful, baby under his breath. You insist he try, so he rolls up two leaves. Unfortunately, you’re right.

“So now we get to have pesto in five minutes instead of five hours,” you tease, kissing him. It’s minty, there’s French jazz in the background, and you’ve taught him to chop basil in the most affectionate soft-spoken way possible. It’s sacred. He’s afraid, he’s always been, that he would never be able to say it, that it would always be a losing game of wrestling words out of his throat—but now he’s not. 

“I love you,” he mutters. It’s easy, unforced, natural. The words find solace, find home in the warm kitchen. He refuses to open his eyes because God knows what you’ll say then. Run away maybe? Throw all the basil to the ground? Down the entire cooler of mojito?

Your silence is deafening. “Did you hear me?” He opens his eyes.

A foolishly pretty smile greets him. “I got it the first five times.”

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: The Prefect's Obsession.

Pairing: Yandere!Prefect/ Yuu and Reader/ Player (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Genre: Yandere

TW: Obsessive behaviour...? Let me know if anything else should be added ^^ (Reader and Yuu are two different individuals.)

AN: I initially had the prompt 'obsession', but reading @roseapov 's Player and Overseer thing gave me this idea; what if Yuu was more than just a puppet, and equally as obsessed with the player as the rest of the twst cast? I'm trying to explore how to write more unsettling kind of stuff, since I'm pretty good at writing regular ol' angst and fluff if I do say so myself ^^ somehow twst brings out this side of me lol. Anyways, as always, I hope you enjoy!

The Prefect was made aware of your presence in their life during the first ever battle they fought, against the blot monster in the Dwarves' Mines.

They remember the rush of energy that filled them, the authority with which they barked out orders for their friends to fight. The intensity of the battle had had little effect on them (even though a small part in the back of their brain said that they should have been freaking out) as they instructed their friends, while their own strings were pulled by another.

Till then, the Prefect had only felt someone's intent gaze, even when no one was there. At times a little rhythm would be thrumming under their skin, sometimes soft and slow, other times fast-paced and exhilarating. But the way you had possessed their body, taken over their actions to lead them and their friends to victory, was what astonished and scared them the most.

They hated it at first. After all, who would like to have no control over their actions in a life-or-death situation? But as time went by, and you led them to victory and safety so many more times, the Prefect grew fonder of you.

The many hours you spent, watching them repair Ramshackle or handle Grim and the rest of the first years endeared you to them. You were so patient, so kind-hearted to be helping this magicless human navigate the challenges of being transported to a magical world. Their desire to know you, to thank you grew day by day, minute by minute. After all, without your help they would not have gotten this far. Somewhere, the lines between genuine gratefulness and blinded devotion blurred, and the Prefect had no intention of redrawing those lines, ever again.

They could tell when you weren't with them. The lightness they felt when under your watchful (and loving, hopefully) eyes would go away sometimes, leaving them to mindlessly wander, waiting for you to come back. Of course, they wouldn't hold your occasional absences against you. They couldn't even bring themself to think something so blasphemous as to hold a grudge against you. But they also couldn't suppress the fear and anxiety that ate away at them each time you left, wondering whether you would come back, when you would come back, and how long you would stay with them the next time.

You, who they had never seen, had more of an impact and importance in their life than the boys of the seven dorms they had become fast friends with.

A conversation with Riddle after one of their lessons together revealed that the boys were also aware of a greater entity watching over them. They called you by a special name, one initially used by Idia and then adopted by everyone else.

Player.

Prefect tested the word, satisfied by the way it rolled off their tongue. Because they control us, just like a player would their game characters.

The Prefect became the subject of more attention fairly quickly after it became known that they were aware of the player and not just a oblivious puppet as Azul had theorized earlier. Considering that you used the Prefect exclusively to interact with everyone, the boys would try to spend as much time as they could in their presence, in hopes of feeling the your 'grace' and monopolizing it. It was just a feeling, one that they could all experience but none could explain. Your presence through the Prefect calmed them. Even when they thought themselves to be alright, the feeling of your presence would help soothe parts of themself they weren't aware needed soothing.

But the Prefect...They hated it.

The way they all milled around them, hungry for any indication of your presence, your validation. The way they stuck close to them, waiting to bask in the familiar warmth and calm that surrounded the Prefect when you visited them. To the Prefect, they were quickly turning from friends to insistent, irritating flies buzzing around.

Nobody deserved to be in your presence. Nobody but them. Because you chose the Prefect as your vessel, a blank slate for you to use to mercifully interfere in the lives of those who didn't deserve you.

The Prefect felt a sense of pride at the thought of being your puppet, at your mercy and for you to do what you wish with them. No greater honour could have been conferred to them and their existence than to create miracles in your name, under your guidance.

Of course, this... devotion meant that the Prefect often wondered about you. While you watched over them as they attended their lessons, the Prefect wondered if you liked to learn History; perhaps you were more into sports and fitness. Or perhaps alchemy was more your pace?

The Prefect also liked to imagine that their features somewhat mirrored yours. Perhaps your eyes were similar, or the curve of your nose, or perhaps your skin tone. After all, there must be something common between an entity and their vessel, to show that they are bound to each other, right?

As they looked down at your fallen form, however, they could not see any similarity. Not even a passing resemblance.

You were different, breathtakingly so.

Having spent the most amount of time in your presence, there was no way the Prefect could have made a mistake. The light sheen of grace that clung to your skin was enough of an indicator of your identity. The Prefect watched, mesmerized by your (e/c) eyes that held a mix of awe and curiosity, your apologies for bumping into them ignored in favour of staring at your face, searing each and every feature into their brain.

The Player.

The player was in Twisted Wonderland.

The player was in Twisted Wonderland?

But how?

Briefly, as Yuu extended a hand to help you up, they wondered if you had been unceremoniously dumped into this twisted world of magic and monsters, the same way they had. Their blood began boiling under their skin at the thought that some being (could this mean there were beings greater than you?) would treat you so carelessly, as if you did not hold power over some of the most important figures in Twisted Wonderland.

Prefect watched you stand with their help, a soft and grateful "Thank you," slipping through your lips and setting their every nerve on fire. The timbre of your voice, the slight awe in your words and the grateful light in your eyes as you looked at them, it was all so much. Too much, and yet still not nearly enough.

And then, a small voice spoke up from deep within them. 'The Player is here. And nobody knows.'

For if they had, if they had the slightest of an inkling that their beloved deity was amongst them, the housewardens would do their best to have you for themselves. Each dorm would declare an outright war on the others if it meant having you by their side.

But if you could be persuaded to join one before the others even found out...

They gave you a big smile, reverently noting the slight blush you sported. How cute. "No need to apologize. I wasn't looking where I was going either. But.. I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Yuu, what's your name?" They asked, hoping to not scare you off by seeming over eager.

"Ah, I'm (Name)," you answered, a bashful smile on your face. They cooed over your warm smile and sparkling eyes internally. So naive, so trusting; no wonder you cared about everyone, even those that had hurt your vessel, and by extension, you.

"I'm in the process of transferring from Aravae Arcane Academy," you continued, and their smile almost slipped from their face. You were in the process of transferring into Night Raven College? That too, from an obscure academy situated Sevens knows where? How long had it been since you had decided to grace Twisted Wonderland with your actual presence? How long had they been unaware of their beloved deity being so close? How long had they been unable to serve you as they should have?

The Prefect pushed the thoughts down, deep down, where it would never see the light of day ever again. You were here. Through some miracle, you were right in front of them, where they could touch you if you permitted (for they would never lay a hand on you without your permission).

And you would stay. The Prefect would go through it all again, fight the Great Seven even, if only to ensure that you would stay close to them. Where they could bask in your glory and serve you as they are meant to. A loyal follower devoting their heart, soul and mind to their beloved deity.

Your expression changed into one of slight embarassment and awkwardness, and that is when the Prefect realized they might have been just a little too intent with their staring. Nervously chuckling, they said, "Ah, okay. That explains it, I guess."

You chuckled as well, and the Prefect felt as though fate was smiling down upon them. This, this was their reward for going through all that they had. This was what they were meant for. "Yeah... I am kinda lost though. I was supposed to meet the Headmage, but..." You trailed off, and they nodded understandingly.

"Yeah, the grounds can be real hard to navigate. But don't worry! I'll help you get to the Headmage's office. He should be there, if he's not doing any surprise class supervisions today," they chirped.

"That would be nice. Oh, but, I don't want to trouble you. I mean, you must be busy..."

"It's no problem, really! I'm always happy to help!"

"Oh, well... If its not much trouble, please lead the way."

"Sure! Oh, by the way, do you have any dorm you'd like to be in? I know the Dark Mirror sorts students into dorms, but people do change their dorms sometimes if they want to..."

[atimeofyourlife]

Learn to forget your biases

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: angst with a happy ending | rating: t | wc: 925 | tags: hurt/comfort, eddie munson being an asshole, hurt steve harrington, angst, hopeful ending Steve got sick of Eddie constantly putting down everything he liked, leading to a fight. Eddie had to put the work in to make it better.

"Why are you even with me if you can't stand to even pretend to be interested in anything that I like?"

It had been days since the argument, and Steve still felt like shit. He hadn't wanted it to end like that, with a maybe break up. He'd just been feeling so frustrated with Eddie being so dismissive of everything he enjoyed, where he at least tried to understand Eddie's hobbies and interests. At times, it felt like Eddie was trying to make him into a clone of him, and it really gave Steve the impression that Eddie was only with him for his looks. Or because he was the only other queer guy in Hawkins that they knew of.

It had started when Steve was making plans to see the Pacers. He'd got the tickets and was thinking they could get a hotel for the night and make a thing of it. But when he'd brought it up to Eddie, he'd laughed in his face. Asked what had possessed Steve into thinking it was something that Eddie would be interested in doing, and told him he shouldn't have even bothered wasting his money to buy tickets when he could just catch the game on tv. It had hurt, but Steve tried to brush it off. He invited Robin to go with him instead, knowing that even though she wasn't a huge fan of basketball, she would tag along and find a way to make it fun.

But Eddie then booked a last minute gig with the band at a bar in Indianapolis. On the same day as the Pacers game. At the same time. He tried to convince Steve to ditch the game to watch them play instead, saying that it would be a better use of his time, and that he was going to be in Indanapolis anyway, so it wouldn't make any difference. Steve refused, as he'd seen Eddie play in shitty bars so many times. Almost every gig they'd played since they'd been together, even attending when he was recovering from a migraine, not wanting to disappoint Eddie.

The fight was the next day. Eddie kept making jabs about Steve ditching him for a basketball game, claiming that he should have been Steve's priority. Steve couldn't even get a word in edgewise to say how the game had been. And he just got sick of it, remembering how Eddie never gave his interests a chance. Brushing off all mentions of sport. Insulting his taste in music, saying he needed an education in real music. Even making fun of his clothes. It was something he couldn't put up with any more.

In the aftermath of the fight, Steve felt lost. Robin had automatically taken his side, she'd already tried talking to Eddie about his attitude toward Steve's interests, only to get ignored. The kids were split, most of them taking Steve's side, but Dustin and Mike siding with Eddie. Saying that sports weren't worth it, that it made it seem like Steve hadn't changed from his jock days in high school. What did surprise Steve was Gareth and Jeff taking his side. They hadn't even known that Steve had invited Eddie to the game weeks before they'd booked the gig, and that Steve supported them at every opportunity, it made them decide that Eddie was being a dick just for the sake of it.

Steve didn't hear from Eddie for a while after the fight. Until one day he and Robin were working. Robin was manning the desk while he tidied and put away returns in the adult section. He wasn't paying much attention until he heard Robin's voice, a note of anger to it.

"If you're not here to apologize, you can fuck off right now."

"I come in peace." Eddie said, and Steve felt his heart skip a beat. Unsure of what could happen next.

"He's in there." Robin replied.

Steve kept his back to the doorway, just waiting for what Eddie was going to do or say.

"Hey." Eddie said softly, keeping his distance from Steve.

"Hi." Steve replied, turning slightly to face Eddie.

"I fucked up. I really, seriously fucked up, and I'm so, so sorry about it. It isn't an excuse, but I genuinely didn't realize how much of a dick I had been until almost everyone we know beat some sense into me. I was taking my attitude from high school too far and projecting it onto you. I know how much I hate it when people judge me based on my looks and my interests, but here I was doing the same to you. I hate how much I hurt you, and I am so sorry. I just hope you would give me another chance?"

"I. It did hurt, Eddie. You made me feel like I was worth less than you because I don't enjoy the same things you do. You lumped me in with a bunch of assholes who I never even associated with. I want us to work, but it's going to take a lot to prove that you're really in it for me." Steve said.

"I get that. Maybe this can be the start." Eddie held out an envelope, which Steve took. He opened it to find two tickets to the next Pacers game. For some of the best seats in the house. "Wayne had to help me figure out which ones I needed. I was thinking we could go together."

Steve smiled, it was a good gesture. "Yeah. I'd like that."

[psychosith]

Echo

cal kestis x reader

summary: despite being close for years, you and cal go your separate ways after a particularly harsh argument. cal doesn’t see or hear of you for a long time, but stumbles across an old jacket of yours that reveals something to him

warnings: angsttttt, yelling/arguing, injuries, death, perhaps ooc!mean cal

a/n: i’m so sorry to the reqs sitting in my drafts ive had no motivation😭 specifically to the person who requested modern!anakin @ a halloween party it’s a little late for that now i feel like…. but anyways y’all might not know this but i’m obsessed w our boy cal and UGH. this prompt from @fallen-vic just struck me right and i had to get writing right away

the last four months had been a blur.

one second you were stripping an old star destroyer on bracca with cal, and the next he was fighting an imperial inquisitor while you cowered away in the corner. then you had boarded a ship with a lanky woman and abrasive latero. they had taken you to a planet hidden from the empire, a place where you thought you and cal could live safely. you couldn’t have been more wrong.

cal returned from the temple on bogano that first day talking about restoring the jedi order and a holocron? from there, it was all downhill. back and forth between kashyyyk, zeffo, and dathomir, all the while cal was forced to face strong enemies that left him on the brink of death every day. and you were tasked with patching him up at the end of every mission.

too many times have you entered his rooms while he was preparing to leave again and begged him to stay. it was always the same answer- i’ll be back before you know it. he couldn’t know, though, the feelings you harbored for him. he couldn’t understand how it pained you physically to watch him leave and come back beaten and bruised. but you stayed, because you loved him, and because you believed he wanted you with him.

it was all too much for you today. it seemed insane; they were planning to infiltrate the fortress inquisitorius and retrieve the holocron. you had stopped on a small planet to stock up on supplies before the big mission, and you were in your usual position: pleading with cal.

“cal, please,” you begged, tears welling up in your eyes. “this is just- it’s too dangerous cal! i mean, an imperial fort, for fucks sake! cal, if you didn’t come back from this… i don’t know-“

he cut you off with a reassuring hand on your arm. “y/n, i’ll be alright. i’ll have cere with me, and i’m stronger than ever. trust me.”

“you say that every time, you know. and every time, without fail, you come back closer to death than i’ve ever seen you. cal, we’ve found you passed out in the mud on kashyyyk. we’ve found you slumped against a generator on zeffo with a blaster wound in your stomach. no one will be there to find you if things go wrong this time, cal.” you say numbly, vaguely aware that there’s nothing you can say to make him stay.

“you’re being dramatic.” he says plainly. “you have no reason to be worried. i always come back, y/n. this time will be no different. you need to calm down.”

you groan in frustration, at his naïveté. “no, cal! you don’t understand… how much it hurts to watch you go. and who knows where you would be without me to put your pieces back together.”

you hear him scoff and look down at your hands as tears finally fall down your cheeks. you can tell he’s stressed by the tension in his shoulders.

“without you? y/n, i don’t need you to do this.” his words hurt, but you try to tell yourself the mission is getting to his head, that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying.

“y/n,” he says, waving a hand in front of your face, “did you hear me? i. don’t. need. you. if you’re so worried about me, maybe you should just leave. then i wouldn’t be bothering you so much.” he stood up angrily and marched off.

was he being honest? did he really want you to leave? all these years you had told yourself that he needed you with him, but maybe you had been mistaken.

you didn’t give yourself time to think. cere and greez had both made it clear that your presence on the mantis was unnecessary, and now that cal had said the same you had to go. you only packed the bare essentials: a canister of water, a couple weeks of rations, and a thick jacket for cold nights. you left through the front entrance without a word to anyone. cal simply watched you go.

a year later - cal's pov

there was no use in trying to hide it, it had been a hard year for cal. a year made much harder by your absence. he had tried to tell himself that you leaving was your decision, that it wasn't his fault. but as he played the argument over in his mind he found himself regretting everything he'd said. cal had been nervous, scared even, of the upcoming mission in the fortress. he'd let trilla and the empire get in his head, and it had cost him everything.

even after he'd retrieved the holocron - and ultimately destroyed it - he never searched for you. he didn't know why. the urge had struck him many times, but he never knew where to begin looking or what he would say to get you back.

it hurt even now, as cal lay in his bunk on the mantis weeping silently to himself. the mantis was empty, the engine humming softly as it flew through hyperspace. all the lights were out and cal's pillow was damp with tears. he hesitantly rose from his bed, staggering to the navigation panel in a sleep-deprived stupor. his cheeks are stained and his hair is tousled as he falls back into the pilot's chair, and he plugs the coordinates to a forgotten outer rim planet into the navigation system.

cal was exhausted, hungry, and mentally drained, but he managed to make it back to his bunk before he passed out.

. . .

something in the cockpit beeped quite loudly, waking cal from his sleep and alerting him that they were nearing their destination. the royal blue color of nez peron was pleasing to the eye, but brought back painful memories for cal. this was where they had made their last supply run before heading toward the fortress. this was the last place he saw the love of his life.

landing the mantis was the easy part; finding you, not so much. cal started in the sparse cities, scanning cantinas and shops, asking about a y/n l/n at every apartment complex and inn. he began to lose hope as he neared the edge of the latest city. just then he remembered you talking absentmindedly as he worked on his lightsaber, saying how it was your dream to live in the forest and live off the lands. it sounded crazy at the time, but now it made sense.

with a newfound passion, cal began searching the forests and plains for you. each dead end made him want to find you more and more, but there were no signs of life anywhere he looked.

one day, he was scanning the ground for any human tracks when a piece of fabric caught his eye. it was dusty, black, and oddly familiar. there were pieces of the same fabric just a little further up the trail he was following. up ahead, cal could just make out the shape of your thick winter coat on the ground.

his steps picked up into a light jog as he neared the jacket. as he examined it closer, he saw a dark stain had dried down on the stomach, and when he bent over to pick it up he was flooded with a powerful force echo.

_______

you had misjudged how hard life in the wild would be. the coat you wore did almost nothing to keep you warm, the water you brought only lasted for a few days, and the rations you thought would last had gone bad within the month. you were cold and hungry, and had only a pairing knife to ward off any threats in the forest. this would be a crucial mistake.

it was a particularly cold day and you were resting against a tree when you heard the crunch of leaves and the distinct mechanical whirring of an electrostaff. raiders. well, just one this time. it was a difficult feat, but you managed to ward off the raider not without sustaining many injuries. you had garnered a deep wound in your thigh and a large gash in your shoulder, luckily most of your vital organs were intact.

you hardly had time to catch your breath before a large mammal had sprung up from a ditch and pinned you to the ground. you screamed and struggled for your knife. your wounds had impaired your fighting skills, and you didn’t last long before the predator had beaten you into the floor. it was so, so cold. you must have lost your jacket at some point. you supposed the animal had lost interest, as it wandered off back into the trees, leaving you in a pool of your own blood.

the sun set behind the trees and you were still laying there, unable to move, slowly succumbing to the cold embrace of death. you could form only one coherent thought in your adrenaline crazed mind, and thus it became your last word.

“cal”

_______

the memory was like a knife to the heart for cal. he was helpless as he watched you draw your last breath, only to utter his name before closing your eyes for the final time. it finally dawned on him.

you were dead.

cal fell to his knees beside your tattered coat, a broken cry escaping his lips. it was all his fault. if’s and should’ves ran circles around his mind, but he understood the depth of this. you were gone, stolen from this world far to soon. cal mourned. he sobbed into his hands for hours on end, cursing you for leaving, cursing cere and greez for letting you leave, and cursing himself for letting his love for you blind him. of course he needed you. he always would. but he couldn’t have you any more.

his mind was blurry as he frantically followed the path he was on, searching for your body. he tripped and stumbled down a leaf covered hill, where he saw you. you were exactly as you were in the force echo, but your cheeks were hollow and your skin was sickly green. you had been dead for a long time. cal ran to your body, crying your name. he hoisted you into his arms and wept into your dirty hair.

“i love you” he muttered softly, hoping that perhaps you could hear the words he was to cowardly to speak when you were alive.

a/n 2: BYE the ending is so rushed. sorry.

[neetily]

Happy Hybrid - KINKTOBER DAY 05 (HYBRID) - (SDV) Sam

— ✧ warnings: hybrid dog sam, Hybrids, A/B/O adjacent themes, heat - Freeform, Pups, Breeding, Biting, Scent Kink, Dirty Talk, Name Calling, Drool/Saliva, Overstimulation, Cervix Fucking, Creampie — ✧ word count: 1,974

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

It's heat week. Which, for any normal person such as yourself isn't any different than any other boring week. But for Sam, your cute little hybrid farm dog and boyfriend, it means fucking himself (or, in this case, preferably you) silly for seven days straight. It's simply in his canine nature at this time of the month to seek out his mate in order to produce some pretty pups together, nothing he has any control over. Meaning your day has been completely written off in favour of seeing to your puppy, sat nicely in his lap with his cock warming in your cunt as he prepares himself for another round, making it the seventh of the day and you're only half way through the week! Covered in sweat and kisses, many bodily fluids staining you skin as a result of his overwhelming needs. But he's not done yet.

He keeps his arms wrapped tight around your back, squishing your tits against his chest in his instinctual need to be as close to you as possible. Sat with his legs crossed, your own tangled up around his back that he placed there specifically to keep you stuck to him. At least he made it to the bed this time before claiming you, yeah? Should be proud of him for displaying such control when he feels as though he has none, mind rotten with the image of your belly fully of his litter, panting heavily against your neck as his teeth grazes your sensitive skin. Passing over the previous marks he's left on the area, a sure sign that you're taken, but he absentmindedly teethes over the bruises anyway. It's soothing, inhaling your scent as he does so to further prove his ownership. His pretty girl. His soon to be wife. His hopeful mother to his children. God, he feels lightheaded and dizzy at the thought, cock soooo sensitive as your cunt clamps down around him when he licks up your marks. Drooling all over you in return, eyes rolled back as he tries to shove his cock deeper into the feeling. A short growl escaping his open mouth when you whimper in response to his inability to sit still for longer than a few seconds. But can you blame him? He's got your pretty angel cunt wrapped round his cock, can't think straight, pussy feels so fuckin good squeezing around his leaky tip, all red and raw from how much cum you've sucked outta him already. And still he wants more, completely insatiable with need for you. The little wag in his tail signalling that he's gearing up to go again — if you're even of right mind to notice. He takes a quick look at you before moving, drinking in your dazed state of kiss bruised lips, your saliva covered neck, your unfocused eyes. How can you ever expect him not to fuck you more when you look like that??

"Wanna breed m'bitch some more, yeah? Y'want that? Y'look like ya want that- oh- an' it sure seems like this pretty pussy wants some more, huh? Needy bitch-" He rambles, voice strained and whiny as your cunt continues to suck his cock further in at his dirty words, his balls tight and eager to spill another load of seed into your already overstuffed hole. So full that as he slowly starts to rock back into you, his hands flat against your back to keep your exhausted sweaty body upright and your front stuck to his own, some of his cum leaks out of you. His sticky seed spoiling your sheets below, connecting the two of you at the hip. It causes him to whine, the sound pained and greedy. It's supposed to stay in, otherwise how else will you be carrying his pups! And if it doesn't then he'll just have to give you some more, prompting you to look directly at him with a single wolf whistle. Always such a good girl for him, following his commands as if you were the dog, sending you a lovesick grin at the way you try to keep your eyes open for him. "One more, kay? Promise, jus' one more-" He babbles, struggling to keep his voice stable as he slowly starts humping away at your hole. He's lying, you know he's lying, but in the moment he genuinely thinks he might be satisfied after just one more round. He never is.

Fucks just like a dog too, all desperate and like his life depends on it, every attempt at remaining careful and cautious gets immediately ignored when he feels your warm cunt accept his cock again. He only starts slow because your cunt walls have him almost sobbing with overstimulation, cock crying out to him to have a break but fuck he can't stop- Breathlessly laughing to himself as he inevitably picks up a messy pace, bouncing you in his lap with ease as he settles his back against the bed headboard for an easier fuck. The pain of your tight cunt choking his tip is quickly rewired as pleasure as you wrap your arms around his neck, your body limp in his hold for his taking. Thinks you're just the cutest when you depend on him like that, letting him rut into you for as long as he wants and as sloppily as he requires to satisfy his needs. And fuck if he isn't needy- "Best little hole ever, yeah? God, need ta'breed ya- make y'mine, kay?" He's still chatting, though his words are choked in between many gasps and moans over how good your little cunt takes him. It's the same old spiel he always goes through every rut, detailing how he'd love nothing more than to wife you up with some pitter patter feet in the background, his primal behaviour exaggerated with the heat he's currently experiencing. You can hardly blame him with the way your body begs for more, how every time he snaps his hips up into you over and over again you cry his name a little louder, a little more high pitched, his puppy dog ears burning with your pleasure. It's not the only thing heating up, his skin warm to the touch with the amount of hormones coursing through his veins, restlessly fucking into you as hard as he can given the current position and yet it's still not enough. If he's honest he knows it'll never be enough, at least not until his heat is over. Fidgety energy coaxing him into laying you down on your back, his hand gently resting under your head in stark contrast to his dirty fucking to make sure the fall is easier to take. "M'sorry, need more-" He pathetically pouts, ears pinned back to show just how sorry he is that he can't stop. He pulls out, matching your empty sob at the loss of contact, but it's short-lived at best. Easily manhandling you into proper position, a hand placed on your back to make your chest dip further into the bed. Face down and ass up, his cock as quickly as possible bullying your insides again once he properly mounts you, a soft pap! perking his ears back up once he's fully nestled inside. And then without appropriate warning he starts going again, both grabby hands tugging on the fat of your waist, driven only by the thought of seeing it stretch some more with pups. Fuck he's insatiable, panting and drooling all over your lower back, lungs unable to take in enough air as he humps with such speed that you're almost fucked right off the end of the bed if not for his territorial hands dragging you back down his cock. He grabs at your ass, pulling so he can watch with heart eyes as his cock repeatedly disappears into your tiny used cunt, almost howling at the pretty mess you've made for him, slick coated length pulling the cutest sounds from your tired throat. "Can smell ya." He comments after a deep inhale and he doesn't mean to add the gruff growl to the end of it, afraid that he might be scaring you, it's just that you smell so good. Too good, in fact. Like your scent alone is driving him mad, his upper body bending in half to lay atop your back, arms once again wrapped tight around your tummy to fuck you like the dog he is. Barely allowing his cock to leave your cute cunt before he's shoving it back in again, desperation lacing his every bark, bite and moan as he grazes his teeth over the nape of your neck. He's incoherent for the most part, mumbling some self serving confessions about how tight you are and how much he loves you and how he can't wait to start a family with you which are all true, just emphasised by his rock hard cock repeatedly knocking against your cervix in an attempt to breach and breed.

"More- more please-!" he pouts, and he's not even sure what he's really asking for. It seems to work regardless as he inhales your increase in pheromones, nosing at your mate mark with clinginess. You want to bear his pups, don't you? And fuck, with the amount of cum he's already fucked into your tiny hole he's sure you're gonna get some anyway, but his unfair thrusts can't be helped regardless. He's close, fully body shaking under the suck of your cunt, your pretty whines for his seed kicking in his alpha instincts as he bites away at you. Effectively pinning you in place by the scruff of your neck, holding you down so that you're forced to accept another load of his potent seed whether you want it or not — though thankfully he can smell that you do, can feel that your fluttering hole wants it too.

He really wishes he can warn you, but from the sounds of things you're barely conscious yourself, simply allowing him to hump into you and take his cock. It's a pretty sight, his tail swishing back and forward with unease as he nears his end. What does it for him is the soft sigh of his name he hears between your scattered sobs and whines, knowing that despite how much he's left you ruined and messy you're still thinking of him. And that sets off his greedy dominance, his absolute need to reward you. Sinking his teeth into you a little more as his tail shoots bolt straight, growling and hissing into your new bite mark with a cry of your name as he shoots yet another load into your cunt. Thick ropes of cum painting your insides, his selfish desires getting the better of him as he continues to fuck his cum in and out of you regardless of how sensitive he is. And he just keeps going, circling his hips inside you idly until he's fully milked dry, humming contentedly at the small break of clarity releasing inside of you offers. It prompts him to lick at your wound, to soothe his tongue over the forming bruise as a means to say sorry, because God knows he hasn't the breath nor the strength to speak right now.

He keeps his cock inside, just like earlier. Warming it, plugging his newest load inside your overstuffed hole in the hopes of impregnating you. He's lost track of the exact number of times he's came tonight, but as he ruminates over the possibility of pups he can feel his cock grow again. Slowly hardening inside your puffy cunt, the drawn out mewl of tenderness you express going straight to his head, and his cock. "O-One more, kay?" He half laughs, sliding himself up off your back to try a new position. "Promise this time." But he knows he's lying.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts

Today's prompt is: cold. (Apologies in advance for waving a cheery goodbye to the cold for a while, before it was brought back)

The Luckies Girl in the World (chapter six)

Summary: A visit to Sherlock's parents bestows Rosie with a pet name.

Six Years Old

I never found it weird that Papa called me Watson. It was his name for me, but some of my friends, teachers and apparently Sally Donovan, found it to be heartless and cold. 

They all failed to discern the amount of affection and warmth in his voice when he addressed me as such. There was nothing cold about it.

Papa also used endearments like my heart and my precious girl, but only in private, which made them feel even more special. I never heard him call Dad anything but John, though he had a dozen different ways of saying Dad’s name.

***

Papa gave me a new name a warm summer day when I was six. We were visiting his parents, which I adored, he not so much. That’s what he claimed, anyway, but I saw how fond he was of them. They didn’t have that strong bond I had with my parents, but it more than sufficed, and Dad made up for it by being his wonderful self. Natural, friendly, helping in the kitchen and doing some of the heavier gardening for my grandmother.

Papa and his father had one particular interest in common. Bees. My grandfather had several beehives, and the first thing Papa did when we arrived, was to pester his father about the creatures he found so endlessly fascinating. Papa’s father was a patient man and answered all his questions meticulously. 

Until then, I hadn’t been allowed near the hives, but this time, Pops, as I called him, had a surprise for me. My very own beekeeper suit, long gloves and a gigantic hat with a protective veil.

Papa was just as excited as me when I’d dressed myself, and the three of us walked into the garden to inspect the beehives. Not after Dad had taken endless pictures, though.

“Fascinating, aren’t they?” Papa murmured in my ear when Pops lifted out one of the frames where bees crawled around and buzzed.

I could only nod in agreement, because I couldn’t get my eyes off them. The hexagon pattern, the delicious honey they produced, their colour, how organised it all was.

At dinner that night, I told Dad all about my bee adventure, helped by Papa and Pops. When Granny served her famous honey cake with toasted almond flakes on top and vanilla ice cream for dessert, my day was complete.

“Is the honey from Pops’ bees?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes, Rosie,” Granny answered. “Your Pops wouldn’t allow any other honey inside this house. Besides, it’s the best honey for miles.”

Pops squeezed her hand, and I sighed happily when I was granted a second slice of cake.

***

After that day, Papa started to call me by another name. Not that he discarded Watson altogether, but it was mostly limited to when he reprimanded me, so I guess it turned out to have a chillier effect on me in the end. 

When he first used the new name in Dad’s presence, I could see tears form in his eyes.

“Bee,” Dad whispered. “What a beautiful and fitting name.”

“Indeed. You like it, don’t you?” Papa asked me.

“I love it,” I stated. “I’ve never had a pet name before, have I, Dad?”

“Not as such, love,” Dad agreed. “Do you want me to come up with something too?”

“Only if you want to. You call me love and sweetheart all the time in addition to my name, so it’s fine,” I told him.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Papa recited.

“You and your Shakespeare,” Dad teased.

“Well, it is a nice quote, though I think an originally Danish saying, also used in Norway as far as I know, describes what I’m thinking about even better,” Papa retorted.

“Can you translate it into English?” I asked expectantly.

“Of course, Bee,” Papa replied. “A dear child has many names.”

Also available on AO3

(@s in the replies)

[ilguna]

|expired medicine!|

peeta mellark, 89. 💚

☼ castaway (Peeta Mellark) ☼

warnings; swearing.

wc; 2.8k

prompt; 89. castaway au

—

The weather this past week has been nothing short of hot and miserable. No matter where you go, or how many layers you take off, you can’t escape the heat, much less the humidity. After being out here so long, you think you would’ve learned that, but you can’t help hoping this year’s going to be different.

It’s summer again.

You used to like the summertime, and spring too. You liked the way the world around you would slowly come back to life after a particularly harsh winter. The barren trees sudden were full and green, the flowers opening up to blossom, and warm rain on cool nights.

Every summer, you would go somewhere new between school years. You’d take programs to learn during the months you had off from college. They were great opportunities, you could furthen your research, while also learning a new culture and exploring a country you wouldn’t have imagined going to otherwise.

It was hard to like it the first time you did it, but by the time you got back home in Panem, you couldn’t help wanting to go across the ocean again. You missed it, the life you left. So, the following year you reapplied with friends, and you kept doing it until the accident happened.

Well, it’s safe to say you won’t be traveling ever again.

You adjust the handmade bag on your shoulder, swinging it further back to slip through a shortcut you’ve started to imprint off of this path. The original path is nice if you’re trying to go to the other side of the island, but you’re looking for the beach nearby.

It would probably be easier if you ripped up the plants. You don’t have the energy to do that, though. You’d rather they learned naturally after being trampled on a couple hundred times. You have been walking down this area more often, and it’s because there’s been a sudden influx of driftwood, which you’ve been in need of.

You could always try to take down trees, the issue is that it’s time consuming without a useful weapon. You have large rocks that have taken you weeks, if not months, to sharpen to use to descale fish efficiently. You’ll be damned if you dull it—or worse, break it—from swinging it into tree bark.

With the beach in sight, you begin to pull your bag off to set in the shade to keep your water from becoming warm. The second you step foot into the treeline, you stop to stare at what’s on the beach, laying between sand and water.

It’s a person, a man, actually. He’s got blonde hair that’s sticking to the top of his head and his neck. A shredded white shirt, torn black slacks, he’s miraculously still got both his shoes on. He’s pale, his lips are a gentle shade of blue, you watch as his chest rises and falls.

He’s alive.

You move forward, brushing the hair out of your face to get a better look at the boy that’s washed up on the beach. In all your years of being here, you’ve never come across another person, or had one show up at your doorstep.

Just by looking at him, you can see that he’s begun to get sunburnt. There’s no telling how long he could’ve been out here for. The redness on his skin is a pretty telling sign that it’s been a good few hours, as early as this afternoon. Despite this, he’s cold from being in the ocean water.

You reach for his wrists, which are slippery and difficult to get a good hand on, but you squeeze tightly anyway. You try to use the sand as leverage to pull him, because he’s certainly twice your body weight, judging by how tall he is.

It takes several tries to get him through the sand, with it being so resistant against you dragging him. Once he’s in the shade, you don’t care nearly as much. You lay his arms back at his sides, standing over him to get a better look, as if you’ll be able to recognize him.

He could be anyone, from anywhere. There’s a good possibility, he won’t even speak your language, and that’s assuming he’s going to wake up after inhaling that much water. Still, you’re not going to leave his side, not until you’re sure he’s going to be okay.

Besides, he could be someone important for all you know. He’s dressed well, leading you to believe he could have money, or people that care about him. Really, it doesn’t matter to you, as long as he has a chance of getting you out of here. You’ll do anything to leave this island.

You take the bag off your shoulder, setting it down next to a rock. You climb on top of said rock, reaching to grab the fork of a tree, pulling yourself between. You climb a few feet up, until you’re able to reach one of the branches that hold the large leaves.

You fold it in half, placing it between your lips, and carefully make your way back down to solid ground. You’ve gotten fairly good at climbing trees. If you can’t take one down, you’ll sure as hell climb up to snap off a branch you’ve been eyeing. There’s been a few times where you’ve hung from a stubborn branch and almost broke your ankle from the height you’ve fallen from.

When you’ve gotten back to the rock, you sit down and fold the leaf to make a fan, which you use on you for the first couple of minutes, before turning it to the man on the ground. The color has already begun to return to his lips, by the time he wakes, he might even be dry and sweating. It’s funny how boiling heat works like that.

You sit there for easily an hour, watching the waves roll onto the beach, retreating, and coming back a couple seconds later. You periodically check on the boy, making sure that he’s still breathing. There’s a few cuts that you’ve noticed, between his chest and his legs, there’s about six. They’re fairly shallow, should be an easy heal. You don’t think any of them need to be stitched, which you’re thankful for, because you definitely don’t have the supplies for that.

You look down to check on him again, and find a wide pair of eyes watching you. You pull the fan back, offering a smile, which vanishes quickly because that’s not exactly the right move. He’s got to be confused and scared, a random girl fanning him with a tree leaf isn’t exactly what you’d like to see after waking up damp and covered in sand.

“Hi,” You murmur, moving back on the rock. “Sorry, I was trying to keep you cool. That sunburn’s going to be a pain.”

His face twists, he moves to sit up. He doesn’t speak to you, reaching to touch his chest, wincing when he sticks his finger in a cut. He eyes the holes in the shirt, glancing at you briefly.

“I didn’t do that, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You tell him. “You showed up like that. All I did was pull you out of the water.”

He ignores you, looking at the trees, then at the beach, and then out to the water, which he doesn’t tear his eyes from for a long minute. “Where—“ his voice is hoarse, he clears his throat. “Where am I?”

“You’re on an island.” You reach for your bag, getting to your feet.

“What time is it?”

You make a face, “I can’t answer that. I don’t know what day, month, or year it even is. It’s been a while since I had access to that type of information.” You open the bag, pulling out your canister of clean drinking water. “Here, drink, you’re probably dehydrated. There’s no telling how long you’ve been out there.”

“No,” his face twists, shaking his head. “No, I don’t know who you are.”

“It’s the only drinkable water on the island.” You tell him, tucking it back into your bag. “But suit yourself, you’ll become thirsty soon enough.”

He doesn’t make any move to get up, you press your lips together. You don’t want to stand here all day, and he’s being resistant. You’ve got other plans, which include checking the traps on the west side of the island before the sun goes down.

You click your tongue, which is partially by accident, as you turn around to head into the trees to go back to base.

“Where are you going?” He calls behind you.

“Home, I came out here for driftwood, and you’re afraid of strangers.” You look at him through the trees. “You can follow, if you want. I don’t bite. Just watch where you step, there’s traps around for the animals.”

This inspires him enough to get up. You lead the way through the narrow path, that you’ll force to grow wider in time. Or maybe the boy behind you will, considering the fact that he’s trampling through the area without a care about noise.

You glance at him over your shoulder, curious to see if he’s purposely stepping on everything that he can, and find that it’s the way he walks. He looks like he doesn’t have a single clue that he’s the loudest living thing in here.

“What’s your name?” He asks, not being able to handle the silence.

“(Y/n).” You murmur, not bothering to tell him your last name.

It has no significance anymore. Hell, your name now doesn’t even mean anything to you. The only time you use it is when you’re talking to yourself condescendingly when you’ve done something stupid that could’ve gotten you killed.

It’s quiet for a couple of minutes. “Aren’t you going to ask who I am?”

Oh, you didn’t think about that. “Sure.”

He sighs, “Peeta Mellark.”

Huh, interesting name. You think you knew someone back at the university that had the same name. It’s unique, you didn’t think you’d run across someone with the same name again.

“Are you someone important, Peeta?” You ask.

“Well—I wouldn’t say that.”

“Do you have people that care about you and happen to be rich that could afford pouring money into finding you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “No, not really.”

You grind your teeth. The first person you’ve seen in years, and he’s not even someone important. You’re never going to get off of this stupid island, are you? You’re going to be stuck here till the day you die, and now you have someone else to take care of.

This could’ve been it. He could’ve been the one thing that got you out of here and back to normal life. You could see your family again, be able to celebrate the holidays. You’d reunite with your boyfriend, even if he did move on from you. You could be with your friends again!

You could really scream right now.

“Why?”

“What?” You snap back, impatient.

“Why were you asking?” He asks, not paying any mind to your tone.

“You’re stuck here with me.”

“What?” He asks.

“You’re never getting off of this island. The sooner you accept that, the better. I can’t believe I just got my own hopes up. I should know better.” You mutter, shaking your head.

When you don’t hear him walking behind you, you stop to turn around. Peeta’s face is screwed, the corners of his mouth turned downward. “That’s not true.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Peeta.”

“We can light a fire on the beach, they’ll see the smoke. They’ll come looking for us.”

“You don’t think I haven’t tried that?” You ask him. “I’ve done all of it. I didn’t get rescued, why should I think that it’ll be any different for you?”

His lips part, “How long have you been out here?”

You shrug, “Three years, possibly more. I’m not sure. I don’t have a calendar or a cellphone. I go by the seasons.”

Peeta takes a breath. “(Y/n), it’s July, in the year twenty twenty-three.”

Your face smooths over, eyes drifting away from his face while you think back. Your lips are moving, but there are no words coming out, counting silently. When did you get here? What year was it?

“Four years.” You murmur to yourself, turning around to keep walking to your home. “Has it really been that long?”

“What’d you say?” Peeta asks.

“April… no, it was March. It was the end of March going into April, we had an early summer that year because the school year started the beginning of July. They wanted to do construction on the academic buildings before we started getting rain.” You let out a breath. “Four years.”

Peeta’s caught up to your side. “(Y/n), where are you from?”

“I was a university student at Sacred Heart in Capitol City. I was going abroad for a spring program to study in Spain with…” You trail off, pouting.

With your boyfriend and your friends. The ones you told that they had nothing to worry about when they expressed how much they hate flying over open water like this each time you go in the summer. You promised them that dramatic crashes like that only happen in movies or once in a blue moon. It’s not common for planes to malfunction.

You remember being with your boyfriend when one of your friends got stuck in her seat. He told you to get off the plane and he’s find you outside. When you got out there, the current was too strong, the flight attendant couldn’t bring you inside of the boat.

If it weren’t for your life jacket, you would’ve drowned. You’d be dead, there wouldn’t be any life on this island. You still have it, you’ve kept it safe, using it when you fantasize about building a boat and drifting into the ocean, where someone finds you and rescues you.

“You were part of flight 147, weren’t you?” Peeta asks, his enthusiasm showing through. “(Y/n) (L/n).” You blink in surprise at the mention of your full name. When you jerk your head to look at him, he realizes how odd that was of him. “Sorry, I just did a report on you to the company I work for. We went to Sacred Heart together. I knew Gloss.”

“That’s nice.” You swallow. You try not to think about your boyfriends name if you can help it. Peeta does look to be about your age, it’s crazy how you went to school at the same place and now you’ve ended up here together.

“I’m an aeronautical engineer. The plane you were on is still a mystery—“

“Thank you, Peeta.” Your tone is harsh. “I think that’s enough.”

“I’m sorry.” He says. “Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I reached out to your family while I was doing my research. If it helps any, they’ve still got hope that you’re alive. They just don’t know where to look.”

“And Gloss?” You ask.

“I have no idea.”

You hum, not saying anything else to him for the rest of the walk, which isn’t that far. You can see the shack that’s taken you months to build properly, through the trees. You have a fire pit, but it’s several feet away to keep from accidentally lighting it on fire. It’s happened to you before, and it was devastating.

Needless to say, in the winter it’s brutal. This is why you like the summer,

“This is it.” You tell him, “I have clothes, the luggage showed up before you did. I didn’t think anything of it, it happens once in a while.” You enter the shack, brushing the dried hanging vines out of the way to hang up on a hook by the door. “And I can clean those wounds. If you want to wash yourself of the saltwater first, I understand. I can bring you to the stream. I don’t have soap, of course.”

You turn around, expecting for Peeta to be right behind you, but he’s standing outside of the doorway. Your eyebrows twitch, “What are you, a vampire? You can come inside.”

He lets out a laugh, stepping inside, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Your generosity. You don’t know me and yet—“

You wave your hand. “Don’t think about it too much. It’s taken me a long time to get to this point. These are the things I wish I had when I got here.”

Peeta’s quiet for a moment. “Do you really think we’re stuck here?”

“I’d like to hope not.” You tell him. “Even if we are, we can make it work. I’ve gotten fairly good at this.”

He smiles.

--

this is part of my 3k celebration!!

[misc-obeyme]

Can I see "You're not alone. You never were." with Satan please?

Hello there, anon!

Okay, this was the first one I've done, so hopefully it turned out okay. It was like a little puzzle trying to figure out how to fit in the line of dialogue! Anyway, it's also kinda long because I have decided not to give myself a word limit... not sure if that was a good idea or not lol.

Due to the nature of this particular prompt, this one turned out a little angsty in the middle, but it ends with fluff.

Anyway, thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

GN!MC x Satan with prompt "You're not alone. You never were."

Warnings: hurt/comfort, some angst

From the very beginning, Satan was paying attention to you. When you showed up that day at RAD, he hadn't been sure what to expect. A human exchange student? One that didn't know anything about the Devildom or magic prior to their arrival? He thought you would be weak or stupid or both.

You might have been a little scared to find yourself in such an unusual place, but you surprised him with the way you handled yourself. As time passed, you continued to catch him off guard with how quickly you learned, how easily you adapted, how you stayed strong and confident through everything.

Satan was always observing you, noticing the little things that his brothers might have missed. The way you shifted your weight when you were nervous. The little treats you sometimes snuck from the kitchen in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep. How you always scrunched up your nose when you were dealing with a particularly difficult homework assignment.

There were so many things that Satan wanted to say to you and found for once he didn't have the words. What could he say to someone like you? A human who not only made pacts with the seven demon lords, but also became part of their family? Someone who was so impressive with their magical skill that Solomon himself had taken them on as his apprentice? A person who didn't just fit in with angels and demons and sorcerers, but was respected by them, too.

And then there would be times when Satan would remember that you were only human. He might catch you getting frustrated over a spell that you couldn't get right. He might see you suppress a wince when someone was rude to you. He might hear you swear under your breath when you made a mistake.

These things didn't make him think any less of you. They served as reminders that despite everything, you needed help sometimes, too.

It was in these moments that Satan found himself able to distract you. He went out of his way to cheer you up, bringing you to a cat cafe or giving you a particularly good book about something that he knew you were interested in.

Every time he did this, you would smile at him, even if you were in a bad mood, and the way your eyes went soft and fond made his heart melt.

You looked at him as though just seeing his face made things a little easier for you.

For a while, Satan was content to offer you these small comforts when it seemed as though you needed them. He wondered sometimes if you would ever seek him out for comfort on your own. If you noticed the way he was always there to lift your spirits when you were down.

There were several days when you seemed to be struggling, overwhelmed with all of the responsibilities that you had accumulated. Not only did you have all of his brothers to deal with, but you were now also a sorcerer and a student council member. You were studying with Solomon and doing student council work on top of your RAD studies.

Satan could see that it was starting to get to you. There were dark circles beneath your eyes and an almost vacant expression on your face. You moved through each day as though you were doing it only by memory.

One night you sat at dinner, eating woodenly, participating in the conversation with only one or two word sentences. Satan wasn't sure if the others had picked up on your mood, but if they had they weren't acting differently because of it.

After dinner, you went straight to your room, closing the door behind you without saying anything to anyone. Everyone else dispersed for the evening.

Satan paced in his own room for nearly half an hour before he decided to be direct with you. Normally, he would bring you something he knew you liked or maybe ask you to go somewhere nice with him. But it was different this time. You were hurting in a way he had never seen before. And it made him angry.

Satan left his room, striding purposefully down the hall to your door. He tamped down on that anger and knocked.

You opened the door for him and the sight of you standing there with your hollow eyes made him feel completely shattered.

"MC," he said. "Can I come in?"

You shrugged and moved aside.

Satan entered your room, closing the door behind him.

You looked at him blandly. "Is there a problem?"

Satan felt a burning within him and he fought to keep it from bursting out. "Yes. The problem is you."

You blinked and then frowned, the most expression he'd seen from you all day. "Me? What did I do?"

"Do you think I haven't noticed?" Satan asked. "You aren't sleeping. You're barely making it through the day. You're distant with everyone and there's this… emptiness in your eyes."

You stared at him for a moment in surprise before the frown returned. "I have too much work to do to worry about anything else. So if you only came here to get on my case about sleeping or my attitude, just leave."

Satan felt his anger spike and though he tried to stop himself, he couldn't. "You think I'm here to scold you? MC, I'm worried about you."

You threw up your hands. "And on top of everything else I have to do, you want me to fix that, too? I'm always the one who has to take care of everything because you all rely on me so much! Every day is full of something that needs my attention and it feels like everyone just expects me to do everything like it's no problem! Like I'm the only one who can! So I just keep going and going and even though I'm surrounded by people, I still feel so alone!"

Your voice broke on the last word and you realized you had been unloading, almost yelling. You covered your mouth and turned away from Satan.

Satan put his hands on your arms. He felt you shaking beneath his touch. "You're not alone. You never were."

Gently, Satan turned you around to face him. He took the hand that was covering your mouth in one of his, then used his other hand to lift your chin.

"I've always been here, MC," he said. "Since the very beginning, I've been looking out for you. I'm here because I want to help you. Won't you let me?"

Satan watched as your eyes filled with tears. The feeling roiling through his chest was unpleasant, but for once it wasn't anger.

To Satan's complete relief, you suddenly tumbled into him, pressing your face to his chest and wrapping your arms around him. He carefully held you in his embrace, pressing his cheek to your head.

The two of you stayed that way for some time before you took in a shaky breath and said, "I'm sorry, Satan."

Satan kissed your forehead. "It's all right. Just let me help you."

You pulled away a little to look at him. The remnants of shiny trails of tears were visible on your cheeks, though you were no longer crying. "You already have."

There was a light in your eyes again, one Satan hadn't seen in some time. You surprised him by kissing him, the warmth of your lips creating a heat in his heart that was unlike anything anger had ever sparked in him.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[impactedfates]

Helo helo hi I've been uuuh reading your HSR stuff and I lov all of them!! Aozjebeusnsjs

Aneeway!! Feel free to discard this request if it makes you uncomfortable in any way

Dan Heng + Vidyadhara! Sibling! Reader [purely platonic] where he just got news that another Vidyadhara is now like, being released from the shackling prison [Idk if you can even be released from there] and Reader is basically suffering the consequences from the isolation for so many rebirths and all that stuff [lets say he's been Dan Heng's sibling for all rebirths so it hurts more.. But hurt/comfort hshsb]

I'm sorry if the request is too specific because I haven't really been seeing like platonic sibling stuff with characters

I hope you have a great day!! Remember to hydrate and eat if you haven't already!! Stay safe!! o(>∀<*)o

A/N: Hello hello!! I've only written 1 HSR thing so far (by the time I got this, I hadn't posted the previous Blade fic), but I'm glad to see you seemingly like it! I'm a bit confused on the premise/prompt you've given me but I tried my best to try and write it anyways, hopefully this is somewhat what you asked for, and apologies if it's not o(TヘTo) And don't worry, I'll remember to hydrate, eat and stay safe! Make sure you do as well now :)

W.C: 919

Warnings: Hints of torture/abuse but not actually said (if I missed any pls say!!)

Extra: Dan Heng is in his Vidyadhara form + Reader is his younger sibling + The Shackling Prison description may not be accurate honestly.

The chains around your wrists still strained you. They still hurt. You didn’t even know why you were there, well, you couldn’t remember why you were there. Every reincarnation, you would find yourself being taken away and into the Shaking Prison. Quickly chained up and suffering the consequences of a guy you can’t seem to remember, but all you knew was that he was your brother and his name was Dan Feng?...Or did he go by a different name now?

Whatever the case, you started growing resentful of him, although you couldn’t remember. You knew that you were paying the price for what he did, and you’d be stuck in the loop of getting reincarnated and spending you 700 years in the Shackling Prison.

.

.

.

Dan Heng stood idly in Scalegorge Waterscape looking at the parted seas. Breathing in and out the tranquil air…until a yell alerted him, he turned around and saw the current High Elder, Bailu running to him with her maids in tow.

“Dan Heng!!”

“Bailu? Is something wrong?”

He asked, turning around fully and crouching down to be on level with the smaller Vidyadhara. She took a bit to catch her breath, the maid with her smiling apologetically at him. She stood up straight and began speaking, although rather quickly.

“There’s a Vidyadhara who recently got permission to leave the Shackling Prison because now you got your banishment lifted, people thought it was fair if they got released too and they’re asking me to meet and release them as well as help them settle back in b-because I’m the High Elder but I can’t…can you do it?”

Dan Heng blinked a bit, he understood what she was saying but he was rather confused. A Vidyadhara released because he was able to walk around the Loufu freely? Although perhaps the maid didn’t realise this was the case as she tried to explain what Bailu said in simpler terms.

“Bailu wanted to ask if you could take her place at releasing and showing this Vidyadhara around to get them settled in. The Loufu has changed a bit ever since they well…were sent to the Shackling Prison”

She explained, Dan Heng slowly stood up and considered it before nodding. It wouldn’t hurt right? Just to help them settle back in and then he can go back on the express.

.

.

.

Footsteps can be heard echoing the halls, your head darted to the door as your eyes narrowed. Feeding time won’t be till much later, you knew that due to how long you stayed in the prison. It was practically muscle memory at that point. But what entered wasn’t a cloud knight but…another Vidyadhara?

“...So…you’re [Name]”

He called out softly, walking towards you slowly. Your eyes widen a bit, you recognize him. You’ve seen his pictures a few times when people tried to jog your memory of who your brother was. You quickly tried launching for him, you were mad. He had made you suffer for so long and yet he acted so calm?

He didn’t flinch at all or move back. It wasn’t as if you were able to actually get to him anyways. You were still in chains and could only go so far.

“[Name]…”

He slowly started, it seems he was told about the situation in more detail.

“Go away Dan Feng, you did this to me! Y-you…why do I have to suffer because of your mistakes…why did I have to suffer your punishment”

Tears welled up in your eyes, as the chains slowly shook alongside your body. You sniffed a bit.

“N-now look…I-I’m crying…I shouldn’t b-be crying…I-it’s been so long s-since this started…I-I should be used t-to this by n-now…right?”

Your lips quiver, looking away from him. 

“You have every right to cry…it’s just you showing emotions…it’s healthy to cry…so…please, don’t hold it in”

Your eyes slowly wandered to the taller Vidyadhara man. Before giving in to his words and letting the tears fall.

“D-Dan Feng…y-you’re such a scoundrel…I-I”

“I’m not Dan Feng…I’m just…a reincarnation of him…maybe that does make me him but…I won’t let my past leak into my future…please…call me Dan Heng…I want to fix the mistakes of my previous incarnation”

He speaks, slowly walking over and sitting next to you. Your eyes followed his figure slowly. You stayed silent, Dan Heng took this chance to continue a bit.

“I understand it’ll be hard to forgive me…even if I may not remember what happened…I just know you’re suffering due to the actions Dan Feng made…and because…we’re apparently siblings”

“Is…that why I’ve always been placed here…?”

“Correct…according to Jing Yuan who gave me more details…we’re related…in every reincarnation we face, no matter how many times we do so…we’re always siblings”

He paused for a bit, letting the silence set in before standing up, you heard the jangle of keys and the straining feeling of your wrists gone. You quickly stood up, nearly tripping over.

“I…thank you”

You nod a bit, slowly looking up at him. You were confused, the stories you were told, the things you heard about Dan Feng…and yet when he stood in front of you and how he spoke, how he acted, didn’t stay true to what you heard.

Then again, according to him, he isn’t Dan Feng, but Dan Heng…

“You know…’Dan Heng’…that isn’t far off of Dan Feng…like a letter off”

“Ha…yeah I notice that”

He nods, silence overtakes the two of you again before he extends his hand out to you.

“Come on…I’ll get you an Immortals Delight”

Hopefully I managed to make a good-ish hurt/comfort thing! 😥 Thank you for the request!! There’s currently 3 more in the line that I’ll be working on the coming days :) Feel free to leave more requests!!

[dearharriet]

could I request the tangled prompt for george, please? 😚

and congratulations on 150!!! 🎉

here u are lovely, thank you sm!! (wc: 870)

George is not used to this whole heart in his chest thing, and it’s really dragging down his name as an enemy of the crown.

I mean, sure, that’s not something he can just put away—and the palace guards certainly won’t—but he almost wishes he could. Which is stupid, obviously George loves being a criminal—who doesn’t?

But the thing is, you’re kind of more than he’d been expecting. George thought you were naive, and jumpier than a field mouse, and you are, but you’re also kind when you want to be, and similarly cutthroat when necessary. You’re not half bad.

Like now, in the square, you’re helping an older group of women with their knitting patterns. George had ordered you to lay low, but he realizes now how foolish that is. It doesn’t matter how low you lay, everyone would be looking at you anyways. You’re just magnetic that way.

Leaving the chittering group, you pass over the wide open square, eyes on a shady alcove at the other end. George ducks further into the overhang, skirting around columns to meet you there.

Even if you’re not seeking him out, he’s glad you’re getting some shade. The mid-year sun is penetrating every thick stone building in the kingdom, and turning the ground into a coal walk for your bare feet.

And anyways, when the sun and you meet head-on, it’s a spectacle that’s hard to look at.

Rounding the corner, George stops short, realizing you’re not as alone as he thought.

You’re crouched, hair fanning over your shoulders, speaking with a small boy who looks very unfortunate. There’s dirt covering his face, and his feet are similar to yours in that they’re unprotected. He can’t be more than ten, but instead of playing in the sun like most children, he’s slumped against the wall, looking tired.

George’s newfound heart thumps a little, shocking his system. He steps forward, but then you’re standing, pulling the boy up with you.

Weaving through carts and wagons, you lead the boy into the center of the square, and then skitter away to a quartet of musicians.

The little boy looks like he’s treading open water, spinning in the wake of your attention. When you come back, you take his shaking hands into yours as a song begins to play.

Then you’re dancing.

With the height difference it’s nothing more than a flailing spin, but with every rotation both your face and the boy’s light with joy.

Two couples join in, and George ventures out of his hiding spot to get a better view. As he passes vendors and shoppers, he notices them uprooting themselves, pushing toward you the way he is.

Many of them join, and when George is on the bank of the whirling circle of townspeople he can’t see you anymore. The dance has quickly evolved into a more complex braid of partners, one that everyone but him seems to understand.

A part of him worries that you were taken, but a flash of gold cuts through the mesh of feet, and his shoulders settle.

The partners change fast, so one second your elbows are linked with an older man, and the next you’re swinging into a young girl. It goes this way down the chain, changing all at once like a flower that blooms new every minute, and you keep your eyes on George the whole time.

When you reach him, you stick one hand out and yank him into the fray.

George stumbles and then catches himself on a stranger who kindly guides him into the proper spin. Luckily, he’d been watching long enough to know when to switch, pinging from one partner to the next as bystanders clap to the beat.

When he’s rounded the full circle, the music changes, and everyone finds a new direction.

Though he probably wouldn’t admit it out loud, George understands why you and the boy had looked so happy. As he swings through smithys and students and artists, touching each hand briefly in this hurdling dance, he’s undeniably alive.

He thought that stealing the crown was the fastest his heart would ever beat, but he might have been wrong. Running away was easy, but coming back? Near impossible.

Without him even realizing, George is finally dancing with you. It felt like every time he’d completed the circle and come to you, the music had changed and you’d miss each other.

But now, you’re under his hands, and when the music changes, you tighten yours around his. The chain breaks, and no one seems to mind. George suspects it was all your making anyways, so this time is no different.

Around and around you spin under the summer sun, and George tugs you closer, his feet doing the work for both of you. He doesn’t have to think, he just turns and turns and lifts you, revels in your delighted laugh. He shocks himself with his returning laugh—not snide nor attractive, but truly overjoyed.

When you land on your feet, the music comes to an end, and George and you are still laughing. Both of your chests meet with each huff, swelling with air and pride.

George knows it’s not about the crown anymore.

+

thank you for reading xx

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