#feel free to send in writing prompts

[aequitas-if]

Jasper Dialogue Prompt

Here’s a little snippet between MC and Jasper. It won’t be used in the game as I just wrote it as a little warm up but I hope you all still enjoy.

It takes place around a year and a half after Aequitas is originally formed. It’s also not necessarily meant to be romantic but if you want to read it as MC having a one-sided crush on Jasper be my guest!

Dialogue Prompt:  “ The stars will go out before I forget you.”

The gentle pitter-patter of the rain acted as a cover for the otherwise restless energy of the city. Despite the late hour, the city was just as bustling as it was during the day. Possibly even more so. Metanoia never sleeps. Neither does the rampant criminal underground that hides beneath the surface.

You suppose that's why you are out here tonight. Hiding in the shadows on the roof of a building. You can't stop all the crime that happens in this city but you can still try.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a familiar set of footsteps. You can hear them walking towards you. You don't turn around. You hear a sigh and eventually, a familiar figure drops down beside you.

"You know brooding in the rain like this is just proving Rowan's point."

"As if he has any room to talk."

A small scoff escapes your lips at Jasper's words. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the corners of his lips twitch upwards in amusement.

"Don't get me wrong I completely agree but him being a hypocrite sadly doesn't stop him from having a point."

Your face scrunches up in frustration. You try to ignore the pang of betrayal that shoots through you as you glare at the teen next to you.

"You agree with him then? You think I'm a shitty leader?"

"Never. Making one bad call doesn't make you a shitty leader. It just means you made a shitty call. We've all done it before. You're not special."

The light-hearted words were an obvious attempt to cheer you up- and on any other day it would have worked. But the failures of tonight still stung. Still, you give a small nod in response to his words and even throw a smile in his direction for good measure. From the way, Jasper sighs, it seems your attempt at covering up your frustration wasn't as good as you had originally believed.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. The sound of the rain and city below acting as a the perfect ambiance for the thoughts running through your head. Eventually, though your eyes wander back to the boy next to you. He usually isn't this quiet.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Your gaze seems to pull the question from him. Despite him being the one to ask you the question, Jasper seems oddly vulnerable. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he waits for your response.

"...do you think Rowan was right?"

He seems surprised by your question.

"No, of course not. I just told you-"

"That's not what I mean."

Your frustrated interruption startles him a bit. Jasper's emerald eyes soften as he looks at you expectantly. You hesitate for a moment before finally managing to find your words.

"...is everything we've worked for pointless? Are we doing this just for the team to split up later down the line? Is everyone going to leave...? Is everyone going to forget?"

There was a hint of desperation in your voice. You felt oddly choked up. Your vision blurs and as you go to wipe away the rain on your face, you are surprised to find tears instead.

You feel an arm pull you into a warm embrace. You can't help but lean into it just slightly.

"I doubt it. Sure, we might disagree sometimes but we're a team! Aequitas will stick together no matter what."

There is something reassuring about Jasper's confident tone. He genuinely believes in his own words.

"Although even if we do split up, and everyone leaves..."

Before you know it, you are pulled out of the embrace and staring straight into emerald eyes. Jasper gives you a confident and reassuring smile.

"I won't leave. All the stars in the sky will have to go out before I forget you."

[frogcereal29]

Nikto x savior!reader

So IDK what i was going for with this- but reader saves Nikto's life and he is... Grateful, in his own special Nikto way :)

Also Witten entirely in bulletpoints like hcs sjsgskshs cause heaven forbid I have to write a continuous story without any sudden jumpcuts when I can't come up with more shit to fill the space😭😭

Warning for military inaccuracies, mentions of religion, and google translated russian‼️ also nikto's thoughts & actions are a bit obsessive. 18+ preferably

- He thought it was over. The building was about to collaspe, almost everyone else had been able to get out, but he was injured in the leg, and the fire was surrounding him. It wasn't the worst way to go, he supposed, a bit unmemorable. But who remembers a nobody anyways? Thats all he was.

- "You're not going to die." a voice? He knows that voice.

- you were one of his teammates, he recognized you from trainings and mealtimes, you never stood out to him before though. Just another body. But now. You were attempting to hoist him over your shoulder, despite him being so much bigger than you.

- "что? What did you say?" He rasps, voice weak. The smoke was starting to get to him. It didn't help he's been smoking for years, making his lungs shitty as can be.

- "I said, you're not going to die. We're not going to die." You seemed so self-assured, despite the seeming hopelessness of the situation, you started down a path yet to be touched by the flames, but one that was in the process of collasping, meaning you had to act fast. Jogging your way through the smoke, trying to keep your breathing steady.

- He knew you could go faster if you would just drop him. You would've been out of the building by now.

- "Just drop me. Im dead weight." He begs, his vision clouding as oxygen struggled to find its way to his lungs. His body trembled, his eyes stung and watered. But he wasnt scared. No.

- his time with Zakhaev taught him there are fates much worser than death. He's seen enough to last a lifetime, so he wouldn't mind dying so you could live, even if he didn't really know or care about you.

- "No." Was all you said back. So defiantly to a man who could kill your smaller form so quickly, of course, he was in no state to do so, but your firm rejection shocked him. He usually didn't have to ask twice for things, people usually understood what he was about and listened the first time.

- "We're not going to get out in time, save yourself. ты идиот? ты на самоубийственной миссии?" He cursed you off in Russian, flying right into one of your ears, and right back out the other.

- And then you did the absolute unthinkable. You were consoling him. Muttering phrases of reassurance and comfort. What the fuck?

- "you're going to be ok.", "Keep breathing.", "The team needs you Nikto.", "We need you."

- to say he was shook would be an understatement. You weren't technically doing anything wrong. And it wasnt like he'd never received help before. But never in his goddamn life, or at least never in this field of work, had anyone ever been so gentle and caring about it. To a stranger none the less. Yes, you were teammates through the PMC you both worked for, but that was the extent of your relationship prior to this, you had no worldly reason to risk your life for him, yet here you were. It dumbfounded him.

- you come to an exit, only to find it swarmed with flames. The only way out, you were surely doomed.

- "hang on." You said, and started running. Nikto would've screamed at you had he anymore strength. He was right, you were a suicidal lunitac, even moreso than him.

- congrats, you've startled nikto (I wouldn't say scared, he doesn't get scared to often) running into the wall of flames. He closed his eyes.

- It only lasted a second or two, nikto felt the flames brush his skin, and no doubt yours too. Searing away any exposed hairs on your body and face. But you flew through the doorway and stumbled out into the grass.

- when the coolness of the night air flew in through his mask holes, he shivered. How you two survived, he genuinely didn't know.

- He had abandoned all his faith, God ignored his cries and prayers when he was being tortured, something Nikto could never forgive, but in this moment he was thanking him again. Not just for his safety, but for the angel he just sent him. Thats what you must be. An angel. It wasn't his time and God sent this angel to carry him to safety.

- seconds later, the building completely collasped, but like a sick ass action movie, you didn't look back. Carrying Nikto to safety.

- When your walkie talkie catches a singal, asking for your status and reporting Nikto's MIA status. The team, whereever they regrouped, must've noticed your absence.

- "alive." You say informally into the walkie, "Nikto is with me." You report back, Nikto tunes you out as you dicuss further plans of meet up with your team, Nikto is just thinking about you.

- it isn't long until the team came to your aid, the combat nurse who came along on the mission took Nikto from your arms, and checked you down for injuries as well.

- everything ended up working out, the mission was a success despite some of the causalities, and you and Nikto made it out alive with only minor outter injuries and a bit of internal damage from the smoke inhalation, nothing you two couldn't sleep off in the hospital.

- life for you went back to normal after everything was said and done. But Nikto? Oh no. No no no. You changed everything for him. He would repay you, somehow, someway. He owed the angel his life. Eго ангел.

- everyone except you seems to take notice of a pattern immediately: wherever you were, Nikto would start showing up too. His previously reclusive behavior abandoned as he put himself in more social situations around base simply to be in the same room as you.

- maybe someone will eventually point it out to you, if it doesn't eventually become painfully obvious, finding flowers and russian chocolates outside your door all the time.

- hell, some nights you wake up in a sweat from a nightmare, and swear you can sometimes see a figure standing in the corner of your barracks, and a gentle voice distantly whispering to you, still delirious and sleepy.

- "Тсс, ангел, это всего лишь сон, я защищу тебя так же, как ты защитил меня."

- Your kindness wss like a drug in his head. He almost wants to injure himself on purpose nearby you, maybe you'd scoop him up, kiss his forehead, and tell him everything was going to be alright.

- Maybe you'd personally wrap his wounds and carry him back to your bed, and lay with him. He was sure he'd heal faster having you around, his pain always went away when you were near.

- His thoughts get a little deranged from time to time, but he tries to be so controlled with you, his little bird. And he is. He never acts out around you, even when everyone is being annoying and he has to stare off into the distance real still or else he's going to snap and kill everyone here. The last thing he wants is to scare you.

- He may be Nobody, but you, that fateful day, made him feel like a somebody. You brought back a small piece of Andre. And he will forever be yours. Please accept him, angel. He will take such good care of you

(ty for reading! If you haven't read but would like to check out my nikto and krueger hcs their under the tag #lexwrites, also my new writing account is @evilfrogcereal29, where i soley post writing n art now (I have no art posted yet😭) sooooo yea, hope you enjoyed I love yall /p)

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 26 - wet dream

könig x f!military!reader pt. 1 (pt. 2 HERE)

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.4k, power imbalance: König is reader's Colonel but nothing implicitly happens, ymmv, unwanted/forced shared sleeping situation, fingering, biting, and dryhumping in a dream.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

It couldn’t get any worse than this. Being stuck out on some sort of bullshit wilderness/survival drill for a whole week was bad enough, but the fact that you happened to draw the short stick and were paired up with your Colonel of all people, really really really made you feel like you had been cursed. 

You managed to spy a look his way while you were packing up while your troop prepared to hike out. The man was massive: tall and muscular. It made you hope he wouldn’t expect you to carry as much as he did. Considering you would be each other’s only company for the whole week, it wasn’t his physique that concerned you the most. 

“Ready?” he asked, all six plus feet of his bulky, veiled form suddenly looming over you.

“Yeah!” you squeaked, standing up from your crouch, fumbling as you tried to thread your arm through the straps. 

He just stood there while you floundered, face going hot under his emotionless gaze. When you were done, he nodded his helmeted head to the side, indicating that you should follow him down the dirt and gravel trail that would lead you up the mountain and to your campsite. 

“You have the map, yes?” he asked once you fell in stride with him. 

“Yes sir,” you said pulling the only slightly crumpled, folded paper map out of your back pocket.

“Good,” he replied, fingers tapping along the straps of his pack. “You’ll be in charge of that.” He looked down at you as you unfolded the map. You could feel his blue eyes burning holes in the side of your face as you walked along him. “You lead. I’ll follow, for once,” he said, a crack of insane laughter rippling out from behind his mask as he bumped his gloved fist lightly against your shoulder.

You responded with a shaky laugh of your own. “Ha ha. Yes, Colonel. Great idea.”

Oh, this week was going to be absolute hell. 

You did fairly well leading the two of you along the loosely defined “trail” drawn on the map. You also did better at scaling the mountain than your Colonel, his height and bulk working against him as the ground became increasingly vertical and the underbrush crowded in. It was nearing nightfall by the time you arrived at your predetermined site. 

“Stay here,” König told you, swinging his backpack off into the dry dirt beside you. “I’ll collect some wood, get a fire started.” 

You nodded absently at him, busy hunting through your pack for your lantern so that you would be able to see while setting up the tent. As he trampled away into the treeline your brain caught on that word. Tent. Tent singular.

Lord in heaven, you prayed on your knees, tightly rolled tent in your hands, if you exist, please please please don’t make me share a tiny tent with that giant, insane man for-

König dumped an armful of branches next to your lantern. He squatted down, silently setting about the task of breaking them one by one over his knee into manageable pieces for the fire. It was your turn to stare at him, ogling his strength as you sat on your boots.

“You . . . ah, do you . . .” you rambled while watching his hands. He stopped mid-snap, head turning to you. A shiver ran down your spine at his black, eyeless stare. “Did you bring a tent too?” you squeaked. 

Your heart sank when he looked away, shaking his head. He broke the branch three more times - crack crack crack - sound ringing around the small clearing.

“Better to be close together,” he said dusting off his hands, standing up, and gathering the pieces of wood together in a pile. “Warmth. Danger,” he said striking a match, the small, warm light dwarfed by his large hands as he cupped it next to the tinder pile. 

You shuffled uncomfortably in your sleeping bag. Sure, your body was exhausted, joints and muscles tired from the long day, but you worse mentally. Every time you heard a noise outside, or the man pressed next to you shuffle, you lay awake for minutes, not knowing what to expect. You would close your eyes, tell yourself it was nothing, and then-

“Need to sleep,” he said behind you, making you shake suddenly awake with fear. “Long day tomorrow.” 

You nodded, flopping onto your side. Maybe if you couldn’t feel him staring at you, your exhaustion could pull you under. You shivered, curling down into the flannel lining so that it covered your icy nose. That’s when you heard König unzip his pack. There was a tense moment of silence before he reached over and unzipped yours as well. 

You looked back at him over your shoulder, trembling more from cold than fear. He was halfway through zipping your sleeping bag to his when he looked up, catching your eye. It felt so weird to see him like this: dressed down in just his base layer, no veil, messy hair and scarred face left open for you to see. It made you wonder how many people had ever seen him like this. 

“Share some of my warmth with you, if you don’t mind,” he said pulling the zipper together, trapping you inside with him. He laid down on his back, scrubbing his hands over his eyes before continuing. “Plenty to give.”

You lay back down, not even bothering to give a response as his body heat slowly crawled over to fill your side of the shared sleeping bag. You curled up, wrapping your arms around your chest for some sort of comfort, and finally, miraculously, fell asleep.

Warm hands stroking down your arms. 

Breath caressing your cheeks as kisses pressed across your face, temple, mouth. 

The solid mass of a leg pressing up against your core, rocking you as the hard, trapped cock sawed against your ass. 

You moaned into the night, breath pouring out like steam. 

Kisses peppered down your jaw to your neck, where a sudden bite made you bow away from your attacker.

There was a dark chuckle muffled against your skin before an assault of nipping kisses came mercilessly, one after another along with your whining moans.

“So good, maus,” a husky voice murmured against your slick neck, “So good to me,”

Strong fingers pressed against your pussy, hot arousal leaking through the thin fabric.

You shuddered, squirming and moaning, as the fingers worked clumsily around your clit.

The hips behind you came to a sudden stop, erection nestled in the fat of your ass as a deep groan rang in your ear.

“More . . . more,” you plead, hips urging the still hand to touch you again.

A growl, then the hand was pulling you tight against the solid mass behind you.

An accidental tweak of your clit had you spiraling, unwinding, crying hot tears down your chilled cheeks.

You swore you heard a voice as a hand pet over your head, soothing you to sleep.

“Ja, there you are. Sleep, sleep sweet maus.”

When you next opened your eyes, the morning sun was blazing through the open flap of the tent. Coffee was brewing over the renewed fire, and König was shaving facing away from you. You quickly pulled on your boots and jacket, trying to get up and over to the fire as fast as you could despite the slick pooled in your underwear and wobbling legs.

König looked over at you as you crashed out of the tent. You swayed unintentionally from side to side as you walked, his eyes narrowed in on you for a second, thinking, before turning back to his shaving. 

“Sleep well?” he asked, waiting for you to pour yourself a cup of the mud he had prepared. 

“Yeah,” you croaked, practically choking on the godawful brew. 

“Good,” he said rolling up his shaving kit and dumping his wash water. “Rolled around a lot. Made a lot of noise, thought you were talking in your sleep,” he said nonchalantly, clearing his throat before standing. 

You froze with the cup in your hand, eyes wide, an endless pit of guilt opening in your stomach. Oh god, you thought, last night . . . were you . . . did you- 

“Almost had to wake you up, but you stopped. Anyway, when’s breakfast?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head, exposing his hairy lower belly as his shirt rode up. You looked away as your cheeks burned. 

Perhaps this week wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[arecaceae175]

Promt:

Growing pains, Wind. Hurt/comfort. Linked universeeeeee. Or just Wind being a teenager 🙏🙏🙏🙏 I believe in u Ace

Sky looked up from his carving as he heard feet shuffling towards him. Wind's expression was pinched and his shoulders were hunched inwards.

"Sailor?" Sky asked.

"Mmph."

Wind slowly lowered himself to the ground, so Sky quickly moved to help him. Wind ended up curled against Sky's side with his head on Sky's lap.

"Ow," Wind mumbled into Sky's belly.

Sky sighed, resting a hand in Wind's curls and scratching softly. "I know. I'm sorry."

It was hard for all of them to watch Wind deal with growing pains and be unable to do anything about it. On the bad days, their usually boisterous sailor was dulled by the pain, shuffling around camp and grumbling at anyone who irritated him.

"Nn yr fah."

Sky huffed a short laugh through his nose. "You're gonna have to move if you want to talk."

Wind only shook his head. "Soft," he said loudly enough to be heard.

Sky smiled and patted Wind's shoulder with his other hand. "Have you had any of Wild's relief tea?"

Wind nodded, then turned his head so his mouth was free. "Mmhmm. It helped. 'M sleepy now."

Sky couldn't hold back a fond smile. "Go to sleep, then. Here." He draped his sailcloth over Wind's shoulders then his blanket over Wind's legs. Wind snuggled into Sky's side and let out a relieved breath.

[blazeshardcat]

in a lot of fics where arthur finds out about merlin's magic, he (incorrectly) assumes that merlin chose to start learning magic, and asks why the hell he would do that in camelot. of course, merlin was born with magic in canon, but what if he wasn't?

for this AU merlin's magic wouldn't come to him instinctually like it did in canon, but id like to think that after several episodes worth of "various magical creatures try to explode arthur pendragon", merlin went "you know what? fuck this. if nobody else is going to think to stop all these magical threats WITH magic then ill do it"

[calmlb]

does anyone have any requests for a hypermobile Dazai skk fic???

i want to write smth for bsd disability week & i’ve had plans to write hypermobile Dazai for awhile but i haven’t been able to think of anything specific 🥲

so if you have any ideas for my favorite bendy boy PLS PROMPT ME <333

[loserboyfriendrjl]

“hey, poppy?” remus asked, bringing his knees close to his chest and wincing as he did so.

“i told you to stop moving,” the woman said, shaking her head. “what is it?”

“i, uh— i’ve been seeing someone?” he gave her a guilty smile, looking up at her from the bed. “i thought i should tell you.”

“really?” she asked, sitting down next to him, quite happy that on that early monday morning, no one besides them were in the hospital wing.

“yeah!” he beamed at her, slightly shifting his body so he could face the woman. “it’s— it’s new to me, i haven’t gone out with anyone like that before, and he has, so he has more experience than i do, but i think we’ll work it out.”

“he? come on, now, tell me who it is!” she laughed. “don’t keep me on a cliffhanger.”

“sirius.” he had said it quietly, only for them to hear, a secrets of some sorts. “but i don’t think you’re surprised, really, are you?”

“of course not, you’ve been dancing around each other for the last two years or so, and i know how much you love, or loved, him. you mumble about him in your sleep sometimes,” he added, to answer to remus’ puzzled look.

“oh, no…” he covered his face in embarrassment, but she could see his smile between his fingers. “but that’s true. i do love him.”

“and i’ve seen the way he looks at you. he’s absolutely devoted to you.”

“do you think so?”

“of course. i loved like that, too, once. it’s the same look in his eyes, the same shy smiles from you, even if you weren’t together. that is love, remus.”

[euripidestrousers]

Microfic idea: how about one of them gets drunk and the other one has to put them to bed? 😁

Lemme just pick myself up off the floor - one of my favourite writers in this fandom gave me a prompt!!

And it's a good one too. Writing this little snippet was so much fun, thank you!

****

“I don't need an escort.”

“Of course not.”

“I was just having a good bloody time. If Lily didn't want to go to bed then-”

“Then you would have stayed up all night drinking with James, yes, I'm aware”, Remus smiles to himself as he adjusts his grip on Sirius’ arm slung over his shoulders. He forgets how heavy he is. Sirius always holds himself with such lofty grace that it's easy to forget he's rather solid - something Remus is frequently reacquainted with when Sirius rolls on top of him during the night. But watching Sirius and James singing cheerfully (and terribly) at each other as they danced around the fire tonight, made it easy to believe that Sirius weighed less than a feather.

“Too right”, Sirius growls, leaning heavily on Remus and ignoring the strained grunt that escapes, “We've earned it haven't we?”

Remus gets an unwelcome flash of a battlefield, the bridge where the Order had a standoff against Death Eaters meaning to sink the bridge and all the muggles on it before the Order had swept them away. It cost them a few of their own that day. Loss has become a constant companion, lying in bed between them every morning. 

Sirius had insisted James’ birthday be celebrated a week later. The hard line of his clenched jaw and hollow eyes had betrayed a motive other than celebration - a night to live again, defiantly, openly in the face of all the odds. A resistance worthy of Sirius Black and James Potter. And live they did tonight. 

“Yes, I think we've earned it a few times over”, Remus replies softly. 

Sirius grunts and Remus can feel him slipping into the dark, the melancholy which he succumbs to so easily without James’ brash voice and quick laughter. Remus used to feel a tinge of envy - he could share this man's bed but his soul is already shared between him and James. But Remus understands it now, has long come to terms with it. Who couldn't love James Potter with all their heart?

He pulls himself out of his musings, forcing some lightness into his tone, “What did you put in the fire? That smoke set me off laughing like I haven't done since Prongs walked into that tree antlers first.”

Sirius brightens a little, swaying rather than dragging his feet. “A little something for the nerves, my dear.” Sirius suddenly grins boastfully, “Haven't heard you sing since sixth year-”

“And not again for another few years I think”, Remus chuckles, pulling Sirius closer as he stumbles, both to steady him and to leech some of his endless warmth. It's supposed to be Spring but it's unusually cold, a chill blowing in from the coast and biting at the tips of his ears. Remus barely resists slipping a hand under Sirius’ shirt where he knows there's an endless source of heat. 

They've reached the front steps of their little town house and Remus concentrates on steadying himself to guide Sirius up the steps. 

Sirius is blissfully unaware of Remus’ struggles, his breath hot in Remus’ ear as he mumbles, “Moony, always such a gentleman. Insisting on walking me home-”

“We live together-”

“Gonna put me to bed?” Sirius grins lecherously, the effect ruined a little by the slurring, “Tuck me in? Big, bad, scary wolf you are.” He snorts rudely and Remus would be offended, except the fact that Sirius finds his lycanthropy being a source of irony rather than fear has become reassuring.

Remus shakes his head, about to tell him that he'd bet money on Sirius passing out as soon as his head hits the pillow, but then Sirius throws his head back and starts belting out a warbled but recognisable song, “Ooh, love, ooh, lover boy. What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy-”

“Shh, Sirius-”

“Set my alarm, turn on my charm-”

“Turn it back off-”

“That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy”, Sirius throws his arm out as he makes a meal of the last word and Remus loses his balance, falling against Sirius and pinning him to the front door. Sirius’ laughter is warm against his cheek, his body burning beneath Remus’ hands, and he can't help but laugh with him, full of light and love. He feels it. The reason Sirius insisted on tonight being a night of laughter and celebration. He feels the spark of life thrumming in his veins, a renewed vigour for being alive. 

They stumble through the front door and Remus stops Sirius from swaying towards the shelf full of liquor - “Come on, have a nightcap”, “Bed. Now, Padfoot” - and successfully guides him towards the bedroom. Sirius is still humming the tune to the Queen song as he collapses onto the bed, leaving Remus to pull off his boots. 

When he starts unbuttoning Sirius’ belt, Sirius grins up at the ceiling, singing softly, “Say the word and your wish is my command-”

“I should be so lucky”, Remus mutters fondly, “Come on. Pants off.”

“Fancy a-”

“You are about to fall asleep”, Remus chides even as he admires the hard lines of Sirius’ shoulders and chest as he pulls off his jacket and shirt.

Sirius flops back on the bed in just his underwear and a content smile on his handsome face. Remus undresses himself to the peaceful tune Sirius hums, then crawls into bed next to him, nudging him to move over. 

“There's a hangover potion on your bedside”, Remus murmurs, closing his eyes. 

The bed dips and then he's squashed under a burning, heavy weight pinning him to the bed. He smiles, wrapping his arms around the dead weight, brushing black wavy locks off his face. 

“R'gonna win.”

“Hmm?” Remus hums in question, already thinking about what to make for breakfast in the morning. He pulls himself back to the present to listen to Sirius’ drunk mumbling.

“We're gonna win”, Sirius mumbles in the quiet, where the only other noise is the pipes groaning behind the walls, “This war.”

Remus hesitates, his heartbeat thudding in his ears and liquor swirling in his stomach.

“Of course we are”, he finally agrees softly with more conviction than he feels.

“You paused”, Sirius grunts, “Don't do that.”

Remus swallows, eyes wide and staring at the shadows on the ceiling. 

“Go to sleep”, he murmurs. 

It's a long time before he feels Sirius’ sleep twitches, signalling him falling into a deep sleep, and it's longer still before sleep creeps into the edges of Remus’ vision, held at bay by doubt and fear and the sense that if he closes his eyes, what he has will slip between his fingers.

[watercolor-hearts]

Here are my Charlos stories for the Charlos fandom because I know you guys are having a hard time (I also am). I have some angst, fluff and hurt/comfort stories for you to read if you want to eascape reality a bit. All of my stories have a happy ending. ❤ You can find all of my other stories here and on Ao3 too.

Chicken Soup and Cuddles 1058 words • hurt/comfort • cuddling & snuggling • hugs • spoon feeding

Good Effects 977 words • heartbeats • cardiophilia • foreplay • fade to black • breathplay (if you squint) • kink discovery • fluff

Our baby girl 545 words • domestic fluff • family feels

Daydreams 100 words • teasing • neck kissing • sitting on one's lap

Dream turned into a nightmare 630 words • secret relationship • fluff • (after) first time • nudity • snuggling/cuddling • (a bit of) angst • closeted gay character

Part 2 2893 words • panic attack • hugs • coming out • homophobia • (emotional) hurt/comfort • cuddling

Perfect combination 568 words • fluff • cuddling • watching a football match (or trying to) • developing relationship

[honeycollectswhump]

The Wolf

[part 2]

this is based on this prompt by @allthingswhumpyandangsty! i hope you like what i did with it :D also tagging @clickerflight because i think you'd enjoy this

CW: non-human whumpee, animal whump (as in the wolf form of a werewolf gets whumped), fear of death

The Wolf howls, high and pained and as sharp as its teeth, as a whip cracks against its back, again. There is nothing it can do to escape, yet it still thrashes around desperately, even as the thick rope around its neck makes it choke and stumble. 

There is no understanding in its mind that its assailants are the same people that celebrated its birthday, that brought it food when it was ill, only the vague feeling of betrayal and drowning panic at what they will surely do to it.

It doesn’t notice a young man coming closer until he is right next to its bound maw and the Wolf yelps in surprise, swinging around its massive head, trying and failing to hit him with its antlers. He grabs three of the Wolf’s sliced-up ears, tilting its head to the side, and it can only see a cruel smile playing on his lips and the jagged glint of a blade before its world bursts into darkness, solely interrupted by sharp bursts of pain.

For a while, its world is nothing but agony, as the hunter drags his knife across its many eyes, and it is powerless to stop it. If it were human, it would mourn the betrayal of its closest friend and the discovery of a side so cruel it could have never imagined it. But it isn’t, not yet at least, so it doesn’t. Neither does the young hunter, blind to a well-kept secret.

Still lost in its own pain, the Wolf barely notices when the young hunter kicks one foot into its torn-up side and it topples over without any resistance, its paws hitting the air uselessly. It hits the ground with a yelp that stretches into a long whine, when the hunter presses his boot into the Wolf’s wounds, hard.

Desperately, it snaps and bites around but its teeth only ever graze the fabric of the hunter’s pants, held back by a rope, and that earns it a kick in the face. Blinded by the hunter’s knife and its own blood, it can’t even prepare itself for the impact, can only wish for a mouth that could scream. 

The Wolf has never been prey before, but if it had any imagination, this is how its prey must feel in its last moments. Is this its last moment?

It was never cruel, not intentionally anyway, it just hunted because that was what it was made for. Whenever the Wolf got free, when the full moon was illuminating the forest just as it was doing now, it had to hunt. A deep instinct the Wolf never questioned and the Other part of it feared. So it did, hunting domesticated, lazy sheep and fat cows and eating them whole, barely leaving bones. 

To some extent, beyond the mind-numbing fear and the paralyzing pain, the Wolf knows that it is getting punished for that. Punished like a misbehaving mutt and not worthy for the beast that it is.

With one last kick to the maw, the young hunter leaves the Wolf alone, collapsed on the ground in a slowly growing pool of its own blood. And in that moment, the Wolf realizes something so loud and clear, that it reverberates in the Other part of it:

If it doesn’t escape, it will die. 

Ever so slowly, the Wolf lifts its head so that its other eyes can scan the horizon. A hint of colour betrays the darkness and it knows that the sun will rise soon. That will be its death, then. 

Because once the sun rises, the Wolf will disappear and leave behind the Other part to deal with the hunters, the hurt and the injuries and it knows the Other part is too weak. They’ll both die, by the hand of the hunters or by the ghost of their touch draining them of their shared blood. 

Where once fear clouded the Wolf's eyes, it sees clearly now. Maybe it is beyond fear, but the Wolf is not aware enough to reflect on it. The other hunters are celebrating their victory, distracted by their own success. The Wolf only instinctually feels its chance for escape, now that its predators have averted their gazes. 

Through the pain of surely broken bones, the Wolf manages to sink a bloody claw through the rope constraining its maw, desperately tearing at it till fibre rips. 

With huffing breaths, the Wolf snaps for the rope that binds it to the ground, just barely catching it with one sharp tooth, and begins gnawing on it until it snaps. It hurts, terribly so, but the pain only furthers the Wolf's desperation. It stands up on shaking legs, half collapsing under its own weight and the mass of its antlers, but the impending threat and the relentlessly rising sun keep it going. 

Clouded, bloody eyes flit around, hazily scanning the area for threats and its speeding pulse makes the Wolf's six ears twitch. Still, despite its huffing breaths, the hunters don’t seem to notice. Now it only has to get away.

The Wolf is a predator. It hunts its prey relentlessly and overpowers it with its brute strength. It isn’t made to be sneaky or silent, yet that’s the only way it has any chance of survival. With a gentleness it didn’t think was possible the Wolf puts one giant paw in front of the other, almost infuriatingly slow, inching away from the camp. 

All of its instincts tell it to run away with abandon, but some part of it, maybe the Other part, holds it back. Instead, half blinded by its own blood, it tries to avoid making any noise or stepping on branches.

Only after it is hidden behind the first line of trees, without any sign of the Hunters noticing, the Wolf takes off running, as fast as its broken body allows it. Again and again, its antlers get stuck in the branches of low-hanging trees, nearly ripping it to the ground. 

It doesn’t think about where it’s going, only that it desperately needs to get away before the relentless sun rises. Beyond its own panting breath and the blood rushing in its ears, it can’t hear anything and the uncertainty of the Hunters starting their chase is almost as gruelling as the knowledge of their Hunt would be. 

The pounding of its heart drives the Wolf further and further away, makes it sway and stumble against the trees as the forest seems to constrict around it until its paw catches on a root and the Wolf can’t hold itself up any longer. It tumbles to the ground with a yelp, already wrecked limbs bending even further, small branches and rocks digging themselves into the bleeding gashes on its back. Only now does the Wolf realise a second danger much more imminent than the light of the day–

The blood it lost.

When the Hunters will inevitably notice its disappearance, they will surely follow the bright red trail the Wolf’s wounds have so kindly left. It is destined to be the prey it used to chase across the forest, salivating at the scent of fresh blood. 

If it will even survive long enough to play the role of the prey. 

There is no denying the wooziness spreading through its flitting mind or the darkness slowly covering the Wolf like a moonless night, drawn out further by the fire burning through the groves the Hunters slashed into its back and limbs. 

Even though it manages to get its legs under its body again, the Wolf knows it can’t keep going for much longer, the mangled limbs struggling to carry its weight. But an end is not in sight.

By the time the Wolf breaks through the line of trees past the edge of the forest, it can barely hold itself up. Each step is a balancing act on knives, digging deep into the sensitive flesh of its paws, and now that it is out in the open it doesn’t even have the energy to hide, to sprint for bushes in the distance. Even then, turning back into the forest is even more of a death sentence than the merciless claws of blood loss, sinking themselves into the Wolf’s awareness. 

Despite the blood muddying its vision –it doesn’t think about the darkness on its left side. It doesn’t– it can make out the blurry shape of what might be an isolated cabin close to the forest’s edge. Recognition stirs in the Other Part, with emotions the Wolf can’t place.

All that reaches it is Safety, Safety, Safety and that fragile hope is enough promise for the Wolf, taking up its last energy to stumble towards the shelter.

It only just makes it to the wooden shed next to the cabin and though the Wolf’s skin prickles at the proximity to humans, it carries its beaten and bloodied body inside. With a last rasping breath, the Wolf collapses. Its right antler splinters into pieces at the impact, sending a burning spike of pain through the Wolf’s skull and making it whine. Like lightning, the pain zaps through its mind, a disorienting flurry of hurt. With its blinded side upwards, the other eyes down in the dirt and dust, it can’t look around the room it has trapped itself in, can’t fight back or flee, or even to notice its assailants. 

Desperately, it scratches at the ground, a futile attempt to get up one last time, to hide, to not lay vulnerable and visible in the middle of the shed, ready to be taken by a cruel and victory-drunk Hunter. 

Exhaustion weighs heavily on the Wolf’s aching limbs, a battle lost to the Hunters, the sun and its very own instincts. The ageing wood creaks around it, drowning out wheezing breaths, swallowing any warning the air might have carried to the Wolf’s torn-up ears and it can do nothing but shake in fear.

Distantly, the Other Part knows he isn’t as strong as the Wolf, knows that his fragile body won’t carry the wounds for long. He mourns his life, the one he will never have again even if he is unlucky enough to survive the day. The Wolf whimpers, an to it incomprehensible wave of grief washing over it. 

Even as all of its other senses dwindle and the day sinks its teeth into the open wounds, the Wolf can’t help but yowl. A pathetic, wheezing breath, barely distinguishable from the wind whipping against the wooden walls. It doesn’t mourn the same way the Other Part does, it can’t, it only wishes it could hunt under its beloved companion, the silver shining moon, one more time. 

Then, even the pain fades and the Wolf and the Other Part are swallowed up by darkness even the moon can’t break.

[youssefguedira]

the color green + joenicky

N. The color green.

Joe doesn't notice him right away, too caught up in fiddling with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, which means for a few moments Nicky can just lean against the doorframe and watch him for a while. It doesn't matter that it's been nine hundred years: he's still so beautiful Nicky can't find the words for it.

He's in green because Nile's in green, and they're posing as the kind of people who would coordinate their outfits. It fits him perfectly, which Nicky had known because he'd taken the measurements for it, then he and Joe had adjusted it together, but knowing it in the abstract isn't the same as seeing how well it fits him. He's wearing black trousers and a white shirt with it, tie abandoned on the dresser.

Nicky is in a black t-shirt and black jeans, because his job is security and backup tonight. It was Joe's turn, anyway: Nicky wore the fancy suit last time.

Nicky clears his throat, just to make Joe turn around and smile at him, lighting up.

Nicky's not nearly as flowery with his words as Joe is; all he says is, “You look good.”

Joe raises an eyebrow, teasing, with just the hint of a smile. Is that the best you can do? “Oh, yeah?”

Nicky pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room towards him, picking up the tie as he goes. “Yeah,” he says. “Green suits you.”

The first time Nicolò ever saw him in something this fine was in Alexandria, after everything, because Yusuf was a merchant's son and had wanted something for himself, something that fit him properly, rather than whatever they could find when the clothes they were wearing became too bloody and full of holes to be recognisably garments anymore. He'd come back from the tailor in a deep green tunic that had caused Nicolò to forget his words in any language for a good while.

When Joe catches his eye now Nicky knows he's thinking about the exact same thing. Instead of saying anything, he loops the tie around Joe's neck and fastens the knot.

“Nile was asking for you,” Nicky says matter-of-factly, like he doesn't know exactly what the look Joe's giving him right now means. He keeps his expression neutral. “I think she wanted a second opinion. We have to leave soon, anyway.”

“Nicky,” Joe says.

“What?” Nicky asks, feigning obliviousness. He can't help laughing at the betrayed look on Joe's face.

“After,” he says. “Go do your job, habibi.”

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

Jance kiss prompts 11, 16 and/or 30?

hi!!! tysm for the ask! i have written 16... lazily from these prompts, which i've posted on ao3 here. btw if you have an ao3 i can gift it to you so lmk!

this was inspired by this post of one of jure's insta stories from thailand where you could see two jan- and nace-shaped blobs cuddling...

It’s rare that Jan wakes before Nace, but over the past few days, in the unfamiliar bed of their villa in Thailand, they’ve had a bit of a role reversal; Jan is finding it surprisingly easy to sleep, while Nace is struggling a little more with the heat and humidity. Back home, they tend to fall asleep curled in each other’s arms, but here they have to keep their distance or risk waking up disgustingly sweaty in the morning.

Jan turns towards Nace. He’s lying on his side facing Jan, one arm reaching half towards him, his hair so dishevelled that Jan is sure he must have spent quite some time tossing and turning in the night. This is a sight he normally only gets to see in the dead of night at times when his insomnia is particularly bad, so he lets himself enjoy his own contentment as well as Nace’s. As Jan watches him, Nace stirs, and Jan can’t help but reach over to brush his hair out of his eyes. Nace leans into his touch and makes an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat. Jan is charmed by the unusual display of morning grouchiness that he is never normally awake to witness. Usually, it’s Jan who wakes up tired and grumpy after a bad night’s sleep to Nace’s gentle teasing.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Jan says with a smile, and Nace reaches out without opening his eyes to pull Jan in towards him. He kisses the tip of Nace’s nose softly, and Nace groans, rolling over to bury his face in Jan’s shoulder.

“Not a good morning,” he protests, the vibration of his muffled voice reverberating through Jan’s chest. Jan laughs and wraps his arms around him to pull him closer, tangling their bare legs together. It’s too hot to sleep in pyjamas and although Nace slept in his underwear, Jan is fully naked underneath him. It’s clear, though, that Nace is not in the mood for sex, and Jan is content to lie in his embrace like this without plans for anything more. He breathes in Nace’s comforting scent, nuzzling his face into his hair, and strokes a gentle hand up and down Nace’s back as he slowly shakes off his tiredness. It’s late enough in the morning that there’s movement elsewhere in the villa; they can hear someone splashing about in the pool and quiet voices in the kitchen.

At last, just as Jan is getting too warm, Nace rolls off of his chest, settling just far enough away that they’re face to face but close enough that their legs are still entwined. They lie there for a moment in silence in the dimness of the room.

“Is it a good morning yet?” Jan whispers, and Nace rolls his eyes but breaks into a smile, his cheeks dimpling. Jan is powerless to resist him, and he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Nace’s lips. When he pulls back, Nace is still smiling.

“You need to work a bit harder than that,” he teases, sliding his hand up Jan’s back to hold him close. It’s Nace who closes the gap between them this time, languidly slotting their mouths together. 

They lie like this for a while longer, kissing lazily, gently exploring each other’s mouths. It’s the perfect way to wake up, Jan thinks. He wants Nace in his bed like this every morning, pliable and content under his hands and tongue, unconcerned by the outside world. They have no responsibilities to think of here, no reason to fret over writing new music or the rest of the tour now they’re on holiday and far away from Europe and all their worries. They can simply relax in bed together and enjoy each other’s company. 

When they at last break the kiss, Nace leans into the crook of Jan’s neck again, pressing a delicate kiss to his collarbone and then his shoulder. 

“We should get up,” he says reluctantly, but doesn’t move from his position in Jan’s arms. “I want to go and lie in the sun.”

It takes a few more minutes of Jan complaining and Nace cajoling him, but eventually, they’re both out of bed and in their swimming trunks. Nace holds out a bottle of sunscreen and Jan obliges, gently massaging it in to Nace’s back and shoulders, and then turns him around to kiss him again. Nace’s collarbones are sporting a number of hickeys from the previous night, and before he puts sunscreen on his chest, Jan leans down to kiss each mark tenderly just to see Nace’s blissful smile when he looks back up. Nace’s application of sunscreen to Jan’s back goes similarly slowly, the two of them both too distracted by the other to concentrate, though their kisses are soon tinged with the taste of chemicals. At last, when they’re fully protected from the sun, they make their way out to the chairs overlooking the beach at the back of the villa, passing Mark and Jure in the pool. Kris is reading in one of the sun loungers and Nace takes the other, gesturing at Jan to sit next to him. There’s just about enough space for the two of them if they cuddle close, and Jan leans in to kiss Nace yet again.

“I would say get a room but you literally have one,” Kris comments scathingly, though he’s steadfastly looking down at the book in his lap when Jan breaks the kiss and glances over. “And before you say anything about putting it to good use, believe me, I know you do.”

Nace is blushing when Jan looks back at him, but Jan just laughs. “Why, are you feeling lonely?” he teases, and Kris shoots him an unamused glare. Nace pinches his side in reprimand, and Jan rolls his eyes and mutters an insincere apology, knowing that Kris isn’t truly annoyed at him.

“We can’t all be as blissfully in love as you two are,” Kris retorts a little sarcastically and pointedly drops his gaze to the hickeys on Nace’s collarbones, before returning his attention to his book to clearly signal the end of the conversation topic.

Jan snuggles into Nace’s side in silence, though Kris and Nace soon begin to chat about something else, about the weather or making plans to go into town tomorrow or something else inconsequential, and Jan finds himself closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

When he wakes, it’s to Nace prodding his side gently, and he looks over to see that Kris has gone. It can’t be much later as it’s not much hotter and the sun is still fairly low in the sky.

“I would rather not have a Jan-shaped tan line,” Nace says with a giggle, and Jan tilts himself up to kiss the smile off his face, even though Jan is very much smiling himself.

“Can’t we keep cuddling?” he asks as he pulls back, and Nace laughs at just how needy he sounds.

“Maybe for a little while longer,” he says fondly, tightening his grip on Jan, and he leans down to kiss him again.

[kaiser-s-bitch]

lyric prompt drabble || Itoshi Sae (angst; sfw)

"And if you’re under him, you ain’t gettin‘ over him" - Dua Lipa (New Rules)

—————

It was around midnight when the knock on your front door startled you, interrupting your nightly binge watching session of whatever show you had recently gotten obsessed with.

There was only one person you could think of that would A) knock on your door instead of ringing the doorbell and B) show up at your apartment unannounced at this hour: your ex, Itoshi Sae.

Despite your relationship officially ending about a month ago, he would still drop by every now and then, not even giving you an explanation or anything the like.

He was just there, letting himself in as soon as you would open the door. He would sit down on the couch and make himself at home, resting his feet on the small table next to it as he glanced over at you with his usual, seemingly bored expression. You knew him well enough to not ask too many questions, being fully aware that they would more likely than not go unanswered anyway.

These nights usually all played out the same way.

It was gnawing away at you: the repeated process of waking up next to him, thinking for a blissful, sleep-dazed moment that everything was okay, until reality clawed its way back into your consciousness and you were brutally reminded of the fact that you weren’t actually with him anymore.

It was as though neither of you really wanted to accept that fact and face reality.

~~~

Sighing, you sat down next to him, picking up the bag of chips that you had opened only minutes prior, earning a sharp "Tsk." from the athlete.

"You know those aren’t good for you." he simply stated, matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes, defiantly taking a handful of potato chips and munching on them out of spite. "And? Neither are you, but at least the chips make me happy."

"Hah." Sae let out an unamused laugh, seemingly unfazed by your snappy comment as he kept his eyes trained on the TV, before grabbing the remote to change the program.

"What do you think you’re doing? I’m watching that." "Not anymore." A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he reclined and manspread on the couch with the TV remote still in hand. You groaned in frustration, but didn’t move from your spot, deeming it below you to fight him for your remote. You knew better.

At least this time you did.

You were not going to play the usual kind of game with him anymore, one where he purposely pissed you off one way or another, and that often started with him asking something along the lines of "What’re you gonna do about it?".

The change in his expression was barely noticeable, but you had all his moods down to the t by now. He was mildly disappointed in the lack of reaction from you.

"Is that all, kitten?", he inquired, his head tilted to the side while he looked at you with those unfairly hypnotic eyes of his.

A shudder came over you at the sound of that all-too-familiar pet name.

"Sae", you called, your tone and expression uncharacteristically serious as you straightened your back and faced him. "You can’t do this anymore. We can’t."

His interest was piqued, he turned to the side to face you, resting his head in his palm. "Are you that upset about me interrupting your little show?", he mocked, raising his brows in disbelief.

"You know that’s not what I meant. You can’t come here anymore." It took every ounce of strength you had left to utter those words, keeping eye contact with him during made it even harder. The moment of silence ensuing was almost unbearable.

"What." Sae deadpanned, it didn’t sound like a question, more like an odd kind of statement.

You sighed, deciding to elaborate on your words despite knowing he knew what you were referring to just as well as you did. "We broke up over a month ago. We broke up because you weren’t willing to change, and I wasn’t willing to just accept that. I am also not willing to have you keep using me for your convenience, nor as your occasional booty call."

He scoffed in response, his eyes narrowing at you. He was never one to actually argue, he was one to say his piece and be done with it.

But in this case, Itoshi Sae no longer even had a piece to say.

He had known that it would only be a matter of time until you would kick him out for good, but that didn’t stop the pro player from overstaying his welcome over and over again for the duration of the past month.

"I know", Sae muttered, quiet but still audible. He got up from your couch and sauntered over to the front door, his posture visibly tense. You got up as well, accompanying him to the door to see him out.

When he turned to look at you, something inside of you squirmed and cried in pain. It was the same part of you that had forced you to go along with his whims up until now, letting him use you as he pleases only so you wouldn’t have to let him go.

You had never wanted to let him go, but there was no longer any room for arguments, the time of discussions and pleas from your side had ended long ago. You loved him, and you knew he loved you as well, but you also knew it wasn’t enough. And now, you were finally done pretending it was.

"Thank you" was the last thing you managed to get out, barely more than a broken whisper, as you opened the door, a cool night breeze sneaking past you. Sae only nodded in response before averting his gaze, stepping out into the night.

This time, you closed and locked the door behind him.

—————

a/n: I rarely ever write actual angst, or I at least give it a happy ending, but I guess not this time lMAO

[rattkachuk]

i'm sorry. you reblogged the sensory prompts and as i read each of them i got different ideas for mattdrai and most of them were somehow angsty. if you can, 63 with them? pls and thank you <3

ohhh i was on the verge of sleep but then this ask was too tempting to ignore 💖 it is a little angsty, i couldn't help it. but!!! here's a blurb set in a hypothetical oilers/cats scf !!

63. Indigo skies just before dawn

-

Usually, when they were able to share a bed, Matthew slept with his limbs thrown over Leon. An arm across his middle, a leg slotted between his thighs and the other around his hips. All askew and taking up room. Leon always rolled his eyes, but if he was honest, he loved waking in the middle of the night and curling in closer, like it was Matthew’s very arms keeping him safe and together. His own personal weighted blanket.

When he woke up this time, there was a noticeable absence of touch. Leon frowns into the dark, stretching his hand across smooth sheets to find Matthew’s side long cold. A glance at his phone tells him it’s 5AM.

He doesn’t want to get out of bed, knows the air outside his blankets will be cold and unforgiving. The concern wins out, though.

Able to scrounge a hoodie from the floor, he trudges out into the hallway. The bathroom light is on (Matthew always insisted on keeping it on at night), but everything else is dark and quiet.

“Matthew?” Leon says quietly when he finds his familiar shape in the living room, curled up with his knees to his chest on the couch closest to the window. The Edmonton city lights are twinkling stardust in his eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Yah. Sorry, I uh…just couldn’t sleep. Lots going on up here,” Matthew waves to his own head, then holds out his hand to Leon once he’s close enough.

Leon takes it, squeezes gently before sitting down beside him. He taps at Matthew’s calves til he lets his legs lay across his lap—the weight he missed waking to moments earlier.

Matthew sighs, looking back out the window. If Leon sees a shine to them, a flash of wet beneath his eyelids, he wouldn’t bring attention to it. Their emotions are so often guarded, so protected and caged, navigating this pocket of vulnerability with Matthew was something Leon was still getting used to. It gnawed a little worry right into the centre of his ribs, though.

The light in the sky is just starting to shift, deep blue and purple shadows casting onto Matthew’s face. Right here in the dark, just them, it’s easy to imagine there’s nothing greater awaiting them when the sun rises. No huge arena with great expectations, no glory of something they’d both been chasing their whole lives (only to know one of them won’t get there, and it will be the others fault). They were now intertwined in a way that Leon wasn’t sure he liked.

In fact, it made him nauseous to think about.

His life goal was right in front of him, and the only thing standing in his way was breaking the heart of the person he loved the most.

“We’ll get through this, right?” Leon asks, nose screwing up as he looks anywhere else in the room, anywhere but at Matthew beside him. If he does, he's not sure what might spill out.

Matthew’s breath is shaky, and that’s it. Leon prepares himself, braces for impact. The big crash and the limb being ripped away from his body. Instead, “Leo. Of course we will. It’s gonna suck, but we will.”

Leon clears his throat, trying to rid himself of the big lump that was forming there, “Okay. Okay. Good.”

“We have to. Cause I can’t-” Matthew trails off, brushes some of Leon’s sleep mussed hair away from his forehead, “We. Just. You know.”

I can’t imagine life without you. I love you, Leon’s brain supplies. He just nods. Rests his chin in Matthew’s palm and savours the indigo light that blankets them both, “Yah. I know.”

[cuubism]

hello friends. despite my 9 million existing dreamling wips i'm feeling the need to branch out a bit for the sake of my mental variety. what pairing other than dreamling should i write a little something for? could be romantic or platonic

other way of phrasing i guess: any pairings you really want to see more fics for in the fandom?

[rettaroo]

I've got several Wade/Vanessa/Logan plot bunnies living in my head right now, but my fixation of the day:

Vanessa still wants a baby, but it turns out Wade's been shooting blanks since the experiments that gave him his regen powers. But Logan's not. Cue Wade trying to figure out how to convince his boyfriend to knock up his wife.