#funny how this whole prompt list is ‘things you said’ and i have almost no dialogue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emberfrostlovesloki · 6 months ago

Text

Unsweetened Lemonade [Hotch x Reader]

Photo Credits: Center (@2k17-xanax-girl) Right and Left (@lesbianhotch)

Prompt: Aaron struggles after the death of Haley, until he takes a prescription sleep aid, Halcion. The ramifications of that choice will change his and the reader's life forever.

Pairing: Aaron x Bau-Reader

Category: Angst/Whump

Word Count: 4.4K

Content Warnings: Drug abuse [Hotch] trauma [Hotch] distressing situations, depression, and hospitals. If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! Here is the first whump fic of the month! I know the month is almost over but from me the whump will continue a while longer as I have four other whump fics planned. My writing this took some time but I was happy when I was writing rather than stressed, so I think that’s a good thing. The fic title is based on the song by Amélie Farren titled "Unsweetened Lemonade" I recommend you give it a listen if you are down. That being said, thank you to everyone who has kept up with me, or to any new readers or followers! Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

y/n = your name

“You are relieved of your duties, Agent Hotchner. I wish you well with your future endeavors.” The words stung Aaron more than he expected. He knew this was coming, but the reality of it hit him like a splash of cold water. Hotch refused to look away from Strass. He could tell from her expression that she didn’t wish him well. What was worse was that he knew she knew. He got up from his chair and extended his hand. The Director also stood, and the height difference between them was almost funny. She took his large hand and gave it one firm shake before dropping her hand to her side and giving him a look that said, “You’re dismissed.” without having to utter a sound.

Aaron took a breath and walked out the door. Dave was at the end of the hallway, he had been the whole meeting. Aaron shook his head, no, and Rossi dropped his head. He’d clearly wanted, and maybe even expected a different outcome. Hotch hadn’t, he’d seen it coming for over a month now. No matter how much he thought about the outcome of today, he’d never in a million years seen his life turning out like this. Only a few months ago everything had been fine, fine?

Many weeks after Haley had died, Hotch had still woken up dripping sweat from night terrors or nightmares about her dead corpse rotting, stalking, or begging him to let her live. Night after night his former wife was tormenting him for not being good enough. Worse, it wasn’t his failure as a husband, but his failure as an FBI Agent and Unit Chief. When he’d almost passed out and had a breakdown on a case, Dave had pulled him aside and insisted that he go to a hospital. Aaron felt guilty about going to get care during a case. He’d resisted. However, when the small-town doctor had filled a prescription for Halcion and he had taken the meds that first night, he had the best sleep of his life, or at least for the last year.

Things really had been good for a bit after that. When he felt like he needed a strong night’s sleep, Aaron would pop one of the small blue-greyish pills and would knock out a few minutes later. The team had even noticed his improvement in mood and energy. Most of them thought that it was because he was continuing this therapy, which he’d stopped as soon as was allowed by the departmental standards. He couldn’t speak about his failings any more than he had. When the topic of Haley came up, he’d felt such a sharp pain in his chest and stomach it made him want to vomit.

On one of those good mornings, y/n had brought pastries and coffee for the team. Aaron was nowhere to be seen, and she knew that meant he was either in a meeting or holed up in his office like he normally had been -- more -- in the months before Foyett. Just as she ascended the stairs, the elevator dinged and Aaron stepped out and toward his office. y/n offered him one of her brilliant smiles and said, “Speak of the devil.” Hotch chuckled and replied, “Who, me?” y/n rolled her eyes and said, “I brought you one of those danishes you like from the bakery. You know you’re losing weight, right? What do I need to do to fatten you up?” y/n said it half in jest, but there was a seed of truth in her statement as well.

Aaron and y/n had an odd relationship. Almost like they were dating, but they weren’t. But if anyone else saw them, that would be the assumption. Aaron opened the door for y/n and said, “I could write you up for insubordination for a comment like that y/n, you know.” y/n brushed past him and looked into his eye a slight twinkle in her own as she said, “Right, right, and you’ve said that to me how many times this week already.”

When Hotch got to his desk, he poked back and replied, “Where’s my coffee? I see Reid and Garcia have theirs.” y/n crossed her arms over her chest and said, “You don’t need coffee. You’ve been more active than usual these last few weeks. What’d the therapist give you? Or did they finally put the cocaine back in Coke?” Aaron looked up, straight-faced, but he was near laughter. However, y/n’s words cut close. Too close. He could feel the pills in his desk like a small fire threatening to get bigger with a small gust. He wasn’t supposed to have kept taking them, but the form that he had gotten from the small-town doctor who was also the psychiatrist, was so easy to change to his D.C. doctor’s name so he could get a refill by just going to the website and hitting a button. Thankfully for him, the office staff hadn’t noticed the change yet.

Hotch had never done drugs, at least not hard ones. In undergrad, there’d been some weed, and LSD, but nothing major and not often. He didn’t find it so hard to stop, as he needed his full faculties for school. He realized it wasn’t worth the high of the moment versus the accomplishments he could make in the future. Now he felt like he was back in his dorm as he took his one pill a night, but he hadn’t seen any negative consequences so far, and as y/n had said, he even had more energy which was better for the team, and much better for Jack.

Five months later had been the real shift. After all, the road to hell was paved with good intentions, and Hotch did think he was doing the right thing with the pills. They were helping him get back on his feet. The five-month anniversary of Haley’s death hit Aaron hard. It was close to their wedding anniversary and the two events cut into him like a red hot brand. He hadn’t expected it to be such a strong feeling that it nearly knocked him off his feet. Thankfully there wasn’t a case that week, and even if there had been, Dave would have told him to stay home anyway. That night after getting Jack to Jess’s and saying goodnight to his son, he drove back home and took two pills instead of one. He was out like a light. The dawn came and his mouth was dry and he felt a little woozy as he got out of bed to shower, but the cold water perked him up and he realized he felt pretty fucking good. Well rested again, even after something emotionally hard.

Hotch had promised himself that taking two pills would be a rare occasion. Only for the toughest nights, and only when Jack wasn’t home. He wasn’t sure how “out of it” he was when he took two, so he didn’t dare risk it while his son was home. But the next few days he really didn‘t sleep as well and he went to work cranky and off-kilter. The pins and needles were a feeling he had and an irritation that wasn’t like him. No one on the team had really noticed, and Aaron was especially glad that his stoicism often came off as disinterest in anything apart from work. There was always Dave though. Hotch could tell that his friend was worried about him, just not sure what to be worried about. Aaron knew he’d have to come up with a valid excuse for Dave soon or start acting like a normal functioning human.

Hotch felt bad now for how he’d treated Spencer for his Diludad addiction. Not that he hadn’t offered support and help. He’d even offered to pay for Reid to go into rehab if that was something he wanted. Of course, Reid had declined and pretty much fully recovered. There were moments sometimes when Aaron could see the desire for a hit on the young agent's face. It pained Aaron because he knew how much Spencer was struggling in those moments. However, he’d never fully understood as well as he did when he was dealing with his own addiction. Not that Hotch was willing to call what he was doing an addiction. It was just a small problem to solve. It was shocking how much cognitive dissonance Aaron held with his ever-growing issues. What he was calling a “small problem,” was developing into a fully formed addiction - though his rate of intake might have been slower than others on Benzos.

When Aaron was on a regular schedule of taking two pills a night and starting to consider a third dose mid-day but he he hadn’t gotten there yet. It was an annoying case with as many authorities as possible walking over everyone else’s toes and getting hurt when it happened even though that party just did the same thing to the police. The team was out in a field and to be brutally honest, Hotch needed the restroom, Spencer and Emily were having a loud half conversation half argument near him, Rossi was trying to calm the state troopers, JJ was off somewhere talking to a troublesome reporter and the sun was so bright. It was giving Aaron a migraine that was only getting worse.

Morgan was on his left asking some sort of question and becoming more insistent with each word, but Hotch couldn’t understand him and his head was pounding until he finally said, “Give me a Goddamn minute, Morgan.” A look of shock and then briefly anger flashed on the strong agent's face before Derek said, “What the hell is wrong with you, Hotch? You’ve been acting off for weeks now.” Aaron thought about snapping back, but his brain had caught up with his mouth, and he closed it before any other hateful words seeped out. He’d fucked up big time and he knew it. Even if Hotch wasn’t going to say anything else apart from an apology, Morgan who could be hot-headed was winding up to say something else. Before he got a chance, Rossi took hold of his arm and said, “Come on, Let’s take a breather before any of us say anything else that we regret.” While Rossi towed Morgan away, the light touch of y/n’s fingers on his arm indicated that he was to follow her which he did. At least in y/n’s company, he was unlikely to explode again.

They walked in silence as the sky grew quickly grey and the wind blew the leaves on the ground in pointless circles. Hotch and y/n didn’t talk at first. y/n wanted to give him time to sort out his thoughts before asking questions or giving advice. Certainly, there had to be a reason for his odd behavior. Derek had been right about one thing, Hotch had been acting off the last month or so, but no one had yet brought it up with him.

While y/n was thinking, Aaron’s mind was also a sea with crashing waves and he was a man lost in that vast ocean struggling to catch his breath. Unknow the the rest of the team apart from Derek there were other tensions between the men that hadn’t been resolved. Two weeks there was talk about promotions in New York or Chicago again. Morgan’s name had come up at the round table, and trying to be supportive, Hotch had only said that Derek’s leadership skills were on par or above anyone else mentioned. The next week, Strauss had called Morgan into a one-on-one meeting to discuss his possible transfer to either Chicago or New York. No matter which option Morgan picked, it would say something about Aarons's leadership and judgment. Before he had a chance to decline the offer, Erin added, “Agent Hotchner speaks very highly of your talent you know. Your ambition and drive are a cut above.” Strauss adding the last phrase, which Hotch had not said, made Morgan scowl for just a second. What did Hotch know about his drive and ambition? To him, it sounded like Aaron wanted him off the team because there was some secret competition between them. That their fearless leader was scared of him. This set Morgan off. First, he didn’t like comparison and second, he didn’t like being told what to do.

By the time the meeting was over, Derek had told Strauss no, he was seething. He moved straight to Aaron’s office where they spent a good twenty minutes whisper yelling at each other so no one who looking into the office would think anything weird of it. Derek started strong by saying, “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Hotch. You might be my boss, but you don’t run my life!” Aaron looked a bit shocked and asked, “Pardon? What is this about?” This response only made Mogan more angry. He assumed Aaron was trying to brush it off. When he had clarified, the two continued to talk, and though they’d partially patched things up over the last week, the foundation was a bit weak at the moment. Hotch’s outburst hadn’t helped him any on that front. He could picture the small cracks in the concrete getting bigger with each step.

Finally, after a long time, y/n asked, “You gonna be alright, Hotch?” Aaron sighed and looked at y/n before replying, “Yeah. I just have to apologize to Morgan. This case is eating at me more than normal.” That was all a lie. The Benzos were eating at his mind more. More. More. More. But y/n didn’t seem to notice as she said, “Yeah. This one’s weird. Too many cooks in the kitchen. No wonder the pot boiled over.” Hotch nodded and gestured for them to start back to the scene. He hoped if he did apologize they could get back to the prescient or motel faster, his heart was beating oddly and the pins-and-needles sensation was creeping back up his legs. The day somehow managed to drag along to a conclusion but it was long and stressful and almost as soon as he was in his room, Hotch popped three pills and planned to take even more before he slept. Once the dose hit that warm sleepy feeling came over him and the world was right again. He pushed himself toward his bed in the tacky motel room and was out like a corpse before he even had the chance to turn off the overhead light and fan that was making lazy circles and circulating the warm air around the cramped space.

If that complicated situation with Morgan hadn’t been embarrassing enough for Aaron, then nothing would be, but he’d regret the path he was taking soon enough. And this go around, there would be no patching things up.

It was another case. It was the dead of winter in Wyoming and there was a killer forcing people to freeze to death. The cold was biting and hard for everyone, and the team was used to cold. However, this case required them to be out in the frigid air for long stints and it made everyone feel numb at some point or another. The team was functioning pretty much as normal and after a significant lead had been taken and moved the case forward at a fast clip, Hotch called for the team to get dinner and have an early night as a reward. He said that they would pick up early in the morning and that they should get inside before someone caught a cold. Although the gesture was appreciated by the team, y/n and Rossi gave their Unit Chief a weary look. Hotch was being odd again and no one else seemed to be noticing. y/n looked over to Rossi who gave a tiny nod that had also noticed her gaze.

They would talk about their concerns with each other when they got to the hotel. Unfortunately, their conversation about what might be wrong with Aaron would be no use, because at 3:00 AM a guest who wasn’t on the team who had gotten high tried to make microwave mac and cheese, but completely forgot to add water to the spinning plastic container. Within a minute the fire alarm was blaring as the carbs and plastic burned and sent acrid fumes throughout the hallway and the hotel as a whole. With the smoke and alarm going off, everyone asleep or not moved outside as they waited for the firemen to arrive. Everyone except Aaron. All the team were assembled outside wondering what had happened and if there was something else going on with the case or if this was a drill or any other variety of things. Hotch still hadn’t come down and they assumed he was grabbing something, but after a minute they all became worried.

Just as they headed toward the door to go back inside and see what was wrong, the firetruck came screaming into view and the firefighters intercepted the team. One burly woman held y/n back from going inside and asked, “What do you think you’re doing?” y/n sighed and said, “My boss is in there!” y/n composed herself and pulled out her ID and said, “I’m a federal agent and he’s the Leader of the Behavior Analysis Unit, I have to get to him.” The woman huffed and crossed her arms over her chest as her unit rushed inside ready to face the “fire,” and replied, “Ma’am, you could be the King of England and I’d still not let you in there. Let my team do their jobs, please?” Desperate but with nothing else to do, y/n stepped back toward Rossi and Derek who were pacing and talking.

After what felt like ages, the ringing of an ambulance sounded louder and louder. y/n internally begged that it wasn’t for Hotch. After all, there could be other people trapped in the tall building who were hurt. Everyone standing outside in the cold moved aside as the paramedics moved it. At this point y/n was frigid and Spencer stepped forward draping his warm sweater over her shoulder. Shocked by the sudden warmth, y/n turned around and said, “Thanks, Spence.” A few minutes later, y/n and the team could see the paramedics and firefighters moving toward the exit. Someone was on a stretcher, and once the cavalcade was outside the BAU members noticed it was Aaron being wheeled out. They all ran forward and Derek asked one of the medics, “What happened to him? Smoke inhalation?” The EMT looked up briefly and then back down before saying, “Benzo overdose, or close to. He must have been using it for some time to build up a tolerance this high. We found lots of bottles in his room. We’re having them tested to see where they’re from.”

The comment the man made left everyone dumbfounded. Aaron had OD? The team’s silence was momentary as they burst into chatter about what this meant and if it was intentional or not. Was it related to the case? Though no one really wanted to believe it was a choice Hotch would make, Derek, Dave, and y/n knew deep down inside that this wasn’t case-related.

When Aaron woke up, it was with the biggest sense of not knowing where he was he had ever experienced. Everything was foggy and he could feel a needle in his arm. When he could open his eyes enough to recognize Dave sitting in the corner of his room the reality of the situation sunk in. “What happened?” he rasped out. His throat was so dry that it felt like it was on fire. Rossi looked up from his corner before standing and grabbing Hotch a small paper cup full of water. Once Aaron had drunk, Dave said, “You almost died. There was an accident at the hotel and the fire alarm went off. You slept through it and the firefighters called EMS. You’re lucky someone was high last night, you might not have made it.”

Aaron closed his eyes hearing this news. It was over, it was all over. Somehow even more so than when he took extra pills last night without really thinking about it. It wasn’t a good feeling, but at least his horrible, shameful secret was out. He didn’t have to keep hiding it or attempt to hide it. Hotch suspected Rossi had known all along and was waiting for him to ask for help. Not surprisingly, Dave asked, “Why, Aaron? Why do this to yourself? You’ve always been the strong one. The one that weathers the storm. This isn’t the friend that I know.” Rossi’s words stung, but he was right. Hotch took a few moments before saying. “Maybe I’m tired of being the strong one. I’ve had enough. After Haley… I didn’t feel like trying. I don’t want to feel like trying. I don’t want to die or anything. I need to be there for Jack, but the job is different now. Tainted. And I have a feeling when I’m gone I’m still going to be working here in some way. Something will go wrong and I’ll still somehow get the blame, ‘Oh that was Hotchner’s duty, must have not gotten to it before he was let go.’” Rossi bit the inside of his lip because Aaron was being honest. One thing about the FBI, if you could throw someone under the bus, you would cover your ass.

Rossi said softly, “You should rest. You’re going to need it for what comes next.” Aaron gave a small nod and decided not to be a smart-ass and retort, “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing too much of here?” Surprisingly, Hotch fell asleep pretty quickly even if he thought he wouldn’t. When he woke, Rossi was gone, but he wasn’t alone. y/n was in his seat instead. She noticed he was awake and said, “How are you feeling?” Hotch gave a small grunt before saying, “You shouldn’t be in here, y/n.” The bluntness of his words cut at y/n and she furrowed her brow saying, “Aaron, it’s not like you’re going to get up and attack me, and from what I know Benzo's addiction isn’t transferred by air.”

y/n would never have said something like that, but she felt fried and his opener hadn’t helped her mood. Hotch sighed. He knew he’d made a mistake speaking that way. But he needed to do what he did next for y/n’s sake. He could wreck his own life, but not y/n’s. He’d never do anything to hurt her. And realizing that he finally realized he loved y/n. That tiny seed had been germinating for months and finally bloomed too late; now he’d forever lost his chance. He put on a stern face, a reprimanding face as he said, “No, I can’t give you that, but my reputation is a tainted one now, and you should stay far away from me. Pretend you didn’t even know me for your career.” y/n huffed, seeing what he was trying to do. She bit at her thumbnail before replying, “We can fix this though, right?” The panic in her voice broke Aaron as he said, “No.”

y/n took a sharp breath in before stating firmly, “But Reid…” Hotch cut her off saying, “That was different. You weren’t there for that, y/n. We protected him. That can’t happen for me. And you are not to try and save me. Let that be my last order to you as Unit Chief.” y/n looked devastated. How was the team going to be a team without Hotch? She tried to hold back her tears but they bubbled over and she rushed from the room, not wanting Aaron to see her like this. When y/n was gone, Aaron slumped back into bed and harshly rubbed his eyes. He felt more alone than ever.

It was two weeks that Hotch was formally suspended and three days later, on a Friday he was let go from the F.B.I. Derek would be taking his spot as Unit Chief, and though he wouldn’t be there to see it, he knew it was going to be a rough transition. He was only happy for Rossi to still be there to be a mentor to Derek and the rest of the team. He’d prepped for this day that he knew was coming and as he left the office for the last time, he dropped a letter off in y/n’s mailbox. He wouldn’t be so conspicuous as to just put it on her desk. It read:

y/n, I’m so sorry things had to end like this. You are an amazing agent and will continue to be without me here. There are so many things I regret, the things that led up to this firing, but my feelings for you as well. I know it’s unfair to you for me to do this now, but you really are a special person, y/n. Maybe, years from now when things are different we could see each other again? I hope that’s something you would want. I hope by then I’d be worthy of you. I wish you the best, and, until later, you have my best thoughts and wishes - Aaron.

Hotch walked out the door as Derek got out of a meeting this Strauss. Agent Hotchner was to be forgotten as much as possible. No bringing him up or asking him for help. Morgan walked into the mail room and saw the letter poking out from y/n’s box. This was odd because she was relatively new and didn’t get much if any mail. Derek suspected it was from Aaron, and his suspicion was proven correct as he pulled out the letter and studied the outside. Of all of them, y/n would suffer the most from Hotch’s loss, so without much thinking about it, Derek grabbed the letter, crumpled it, and tossed it in the recycle bin. Over the next few weeks there were many challenges for the team and Aaron, but at least Aaron thought that his message had been clear, little did he or y/n know that it hadn’t been received. So the weeks went on and y/n thought Aaron had dropped her like a hot potato onto the ground, and Aaron, waiting for some sort of reply lost hope that he would hear from y/n again. Maybe she was listening to the rumors about him that must be circling the office. Either way, what could have been a sweet and lovely thing, remained soured like unsweetened lemonade.

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag list: @potatovoyager @princessjax @geminitapestry @mandarinmoons @alicewonderao3

Want to be added to my tag list? Please check out this post (linked)

Want to send in a request? Please check out this post, CM Request Post (linked)

35 notes · View notes

ryuichirou · 9 months ago

Text

Replies

Some replies!

Anonymous asked:

Do you have an Ao3 account?

I honestly forgot that I had one because I don’t read or write fics… so it’s just for leaving kudos from time to time when I remember to log in lol

Katsu’s account isn’t as empty as mine though! But Katsu doesn’t write fanfics very often; the one I posted a sketch for yesterday was the first twst one Katsu wrote.

Anonymous asked:

I was looking at Union birthday interviews again, and the deserted island answers spark some really really reallyinteresting scenarios... Stuck in a deserted island without Internet with a guy who now can do whatever he wants with you(r body) 👀👀👀 And you can't even complain because YOU chose him!!!

Truth to be told, I originally thought of this with Lilia/Vil considering how Lilia behaved back in Stitch event, but then I realized it could be so scrumptious with other ships too! Ruggie/Deuce, Kalim/Leona, Jack/Jamil (and these three who picked victims to stuck with on an deserted island: Jack/Epel, Rook/Silver, Ortho/Malleus)

I really love this question, I wish the next bunch of birthday interviews would have more “theoretical scenario” questions like this one. It’s like the characters themselves give us a prompt for a fic or a doujin lol Stuck in a deserted island…together…

Lilia/Vil on a deserted island sounds like a delightful time, but I also don’t know what Lilia did in the Stitch event, so maybe it’s not as delightful as I picture it LOL But all of these combinations are so fun… I think Rook/Silver and Ortho/Malleus are the ones I would love to see the most.

Also, if I remember correctly, Idia went through an entire list of characters before making his pick, the boy ANALYSED IT he is so picky!!

Anonymous asked:

I was rereading Lilia's union birthday card (spoilers now if you haven't watched it— you should!!!) And thinking that his ideal brother being someone who is not "boring or too independent" but more unpredictable and interesting is really silly when it sounds like his ideal "baby brother" is the total opposite of Silver lol 😭 I can't help but think Lilia has been waiting Silver's whole life for him to hit his rebellious phase and start acting out, but Silver remains as adoring and steadfast as ever... I wonder what Silver would think of this lol

OH I remember that one!! It’s funny how pretty much the first thing he said was “well not Vil or Trey”, like why would you even mention them then, Peepaw? So mean lol

It really is very easy to imagine Lilia waiting for Silver to become a little rebel… If he had had a moment of disobedience or brattiness, Lilia would’ve probably secretly be very pleased. It’s like wow! I’m raising a little firecracker. Or maybe it was a pleasant contrast with Malleus: finally, a child that isn’t trying to burn your face out of pettiness lol

Maybe Silver would get confused and/or upset by it… he is trying his best to be the best son for Lilia, and all this time Lilia just wanted more trouble?

Anonymous asked:

do you ever intend to watch cloudcalling on the savanna/tamashina mina? i know you’re not a big fan of leona and leona’s the star of the show, and i honestly can’t say i disagree with your criticisms of book 2 — frankly, if you said it’s the weakest book, the majority of the fandom would agree with you (and idk if you know but there’s a theory that book 2 was originally book 6, bc when the books were being announced before the game’s release, they were largely in order except savanaclaw being 6 instead of 2. which is admittedly not amazing evidence that the order was rearranged way too late in development, but it’d explain why b2 is so rushed and just… bad, and p. much all other advertisement and promotional material for the game since then has been in the current order). however i feel that this event does a lot for leona’s character, and also offers a lot of worldbuilding for the savanna and context for the way he is. almost like an apology for fumbling the bag on book 2 haha. i’m not trying to force you btw and it’s totally fair if you don’t want to or have other things you want to watch first!!! i’m just a faceless blob on the internet and i obviously can’t (and don’t want to!) force you. i just recommend this event, as a resident catboy lover and lion snuggler!! :3

besides that, are there any potential events that you want to see? for example i’d love an event that takes us to the coral sea, briar valley, or even the isle of woe!!

In general, Anon, we would love to watch all the events at some point (or at least the majority of them), but yeah to be honest Tamashina Mina isn’t really in our top-10 when it comes to priority.

Even though it has Lilia, Vil and Kalim, whom we love a lot, and actually learning more about Savanna would be very cool, and the idea of Leona’s character being better written there is inviting, I guess we’re just not in a Leona mood most of the times lol It all boils down to how I just don’t like the way he is written the majority of times. This balance always feels off somehow, and the way he bounces off other characters doesn��t feel as fun, but maybe it’s due to my personal taste and me disliking this type of character in general. I don’t even know how to describe it in a way that makes sense.

But the thing is, Leona has moments that I genuinely enjoy; for example, I love it when he gets called out or when he is stuck in a funny situation. I liked his fighting scene in the Playful Land event (if you know you know, I’m not spoiling it since it’s not out in EN yet) because it shows him being smart and skilled and then adds a punchline on top of it. So it’s not completely impossible even for me have fun with Leona, and I hope this event has moments like this. But we’ll see… eventually.

The theory that Book 2 was originally Book 6 makes sense because it feels super rushed and “raw” with writing all over the place at times… Honestly, I hope we’ll get some info on it at some point! I doubt we ever will unfortunately, but it would explain a lot. But I’m happy with their order now because we got a lot of stuff from Book 6, which we love so dearly. If Leona had to be sacrificed for it, so be it, we won’t complain lol

THE CORAL SEA EVENT, YES!!! This is the one we are the most excited about, I really hope we’ll get to see it soon! And Briar Valley too of course, and the Isle of Woe since in my head I almost always picture S.T.Y.X. facility, which is so unfair because they have their own (fake) ecosystem underwater, so it’s pretty much Greece-like place!

More events…. more….

It also depends a little bit on the character combo which participates in the event, we clearly have our biases too lol Events with the characters that we strongly ship will most likely get our attention asap. We actually planned on watching the Stitch event back in April, but personal stuff made us delay it for so long that it actually came out in English. We didn’t want to overlap with the Western fanbase, so instead we watched White Rabbit Fest and Ghost Marriage Event or whatever it’s called. The second one is not fully watched though, I’ll mention the reason below. And now I’m not at home so we won’t be able to finish it properly.

What hinders us in most cases is the lack of non-official translations because as soon as the official one is out, nobody is going to bother with translating the event since it doesn’t make sense. But it matters to us :c Same with vignettes, which are even less likely to get translated after their EN release. It ruins the flow of watching TWST by making us constantly looking for videos with the events being unfinished or nobody bothering with the vignettes for the event. It’s a pity, but I understand that it’s a very hard work to translate stuff in general and not to get demotivated by the official translations, because who then needs yours? I NEED!!! Please...

#replies

15 notes · View notes

lividria · 2 months ago

Text

joke in a discord server led to me reading the entirety of john wilkes booth's wikipedia page at 1 in the morning, under the cut are my many bizarre findings from this wikipedia rabbit hole, coming to this as someone who just knew him as Guy Who Killed Lincoln and finds all of this way too funny probably directly due to sleep deprivation

and this reminds me, i forgot the context but one time my nickname in a discord i'm in was "daughter of john wilkes booth" or something for a few months i think, i need to go check why the fuck that happened cliffhanger until the end of the post i guess

On opening night, he experienced stage fright and stumbled over one of his lines. Instead of introducing himself by saying, "Madame, I am Petruchio Pandolfo", he stammered, "Madame, I am Pondolfio Pet—Pedolfio Pat—Pantuchio Ped—dammit! Who am I?", causing the audience to roar with laughter

is then followed by paragraph upon paragraph praising how good of an actor he was and it's really, really funny how much it feels like the page is idolizing him until we hit the Civil War Years heading, there's one paragraph where it foreshadows his confederate sympathies and just fucking moves on a sentence later back to listing all of the newspapers praising him for 2 more paragraphs

the reason i was even on this page was because someone jokingly suggested that if booth had missed and shot lincoln's hat instead lincoln would've recognized him and just invited him to come watch the play instead, apparently this is a genuine alternate timeline that could've happened

Family friend John T. Ford opened 1,500-seat Ford's Theatre on November 9 in Washington, D.C. Booth was one of the first leading men to appear there, playing in Charles Selby's The Marble Heart. In this play, Booth portrayed a Greek sculptor in costume, making marble statues come to life. Lincoln watched the play from his box. At one point during the performance, Booth was said to have shaken his finger in Lincoln's direction as he delivered a line of dialogue. Lincoln's sister-in-law was sitting with him in the same presidential box where he was later slain; she turned to him and said, "Mr. Lincoln, he looks as if he meant that for you." The president replied, "He does look pretty sharp at me, doesn't he?" On another occasion, Lincoln's son Tad saw Booth perform. He said that the actor thrilled him, prompting Booth to give Tad a rose. Booth ignored an invitation to visit Lincoln between acts.

also by sheer coincidence i read this page on the goddamn ides of march and only just now found out how much JWB idolized brutus so that was fucking weird

booth was almost an oil tycoon before leaving the business to go do something or other about the civil war, and lost a ton of money in doing so, so lol

he fucking broke into some guy's execution crowd to watch him get hanged and didn't do anything and it never came up again???

before killing lincoln he planned to kidnap him instead and ransom him for imprisoned confederates which seems like a pretty low bargain for the fucking president, like trade directly for the union recognizing the confederacy or something what the hell are you doing

something i love about the way wikipedia and other wiki sites write is how sometimes hilariously blunt things are written, this being a good example

He told Louis J. Weichmann, a friend of John Surratt and a boarder at Mary Surratt's house, that he was done with the stage and that the only play he wanted to present henceforth was Venice Preserv'd. Weichmann did not understand the reference; Venice Preserv'd is about an assassination plot.

He did not understand the reference.

i forgot about the whole rumor about booth breaking his leg when he jumped down from the booth (location) and it's specifically mentioned later that his leg was hurt but booth specifically insisted it was hurt by a horse he was riding to get away and i know him actually injuring his leg and still making a getaway is super unlikely but the idea of him getting super embarrassed and insisting it didn't happen and oh no his leg got hurt some other way is amazing- okay wait no i misread this paragraph apparently it's the other way around, he was the one who insisted he broke his leg jumping from the stage as some kind of ego thing making himself out as heroic that might be even more ridiculous actually

Booth was the only one of the assassins to succeed. Powell was able to stab Seward, who was bedridden as a result of an earlier carriage accident; Seward was seriously wounded but survived. Atzerodt lost his nerve and spent the evening drinking, never making an attempt to kill Johnson.

how do you fail to kill a bedridden man by any means, but especially stabbing

there's a random unwarranted namedrop of Joseph "Peanuts" Burrough

the locations listed in the explanation of his getaway sound like fantasy locations, ah yes Zekiah Swamp and Seratt's Tavern

"Almost every family who kept a photograph album on the parlor table owned a likeness of John Wilkes Booth of the famous Booth family of actors. After the assassination Northerners slid the Booth card out of their albums: some threw it away, some burned it, some crumpled it angrily."

am i stupid, why were people just commonly keeping pictures of actors in their homes

basically every paragraph it jumps between describing booth's flight and how people reacted to lincoln dying and like the timing of events is not even remotely synced up and it feels really weird to read

Garrett's 11-year-old son Richard was an eyewitness to the event. In later years, he became a Baptist minister and widely lectured on the events of Booth's demise at his family's farm.

imagine going to church and the guy up at the podium is like "when i was a young'n i watched them kill that dammmmnnn bastard who killed the president"

The Garretts also finally learned of Lincoln's death and the substantial reward for Booth's capture. Booth, said Garrett, displayed no reaction other than to ask if the family would turn in the fugitive should they have the opportunity. Still not aware of their guest's true identity, one of the older Garrett sons offered that they might, if only because they needed the money.

what the fuck was booth's plan telling the people who were housing him to go look for him like i get they didn't know it was him but what was the tactical purpose of this play

another amazing fucking wikipedia excerpt

David Herold surrendered, but Booth refused Conger's demand to surrender, saying, "I prefer to come out and fight." The soldiers then set the barn on fire.

like, did he TRY to go out and fight, or was the point that he didn't want to do either and just stayed in there, was he refusing to leave and that's why they burned the barn down or was he about to go duel them and almost got through the door only to see that there was gasoline everywhere now

In Booth's pockets were found a compass, a candle, pictures of five women (actresses Alice Grey, Helen Western, Effie Germon, Fannie Brown, and Booth's fiancée Lucy Hale)

again with the pictures of random actors???

apparently multiple people wrote books (one of which was titled The Curse of Cain, what the fuck does cain have to do with anything) pitching the idea that james wilke booth survived and the guy they tried to immolate and then shot when that didn't work was just a lookalike, and i swear it mentions like 20+ people as having come out and confirmed the corpse was booth, like that is exactly the comedic misinformation bit that happens all the time in the modern day how the fuck did it happen in the civil war era, also multiple times people tried to get their hands on booth's body to DNA test and confirm it's him and they kept getting told to fuck off which is pretty funny

then there's a list of references to booth in media and i swear some of this shit is insane, like i had never heard of the movie zoolander before but apparently there's a plot point that booth was brainwashed into assassinating lincoln by the fashion industry, and jfk's too???, seeing the title Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter nearly gave me an aneurysm and reading it's synopsis didn't fucking help, booth was in an episode of the twilight zone where some guy gets sent back in time randomly and makes it his mission to stop the assassination of lincoln and fails lol and the synopsis makes it read like john wilkes booth somehow became immortal and is alive in the modern day???, one of the smosh guys played booth in some show i've never heard of but oh my god it also involves going in back in time holy shit there's a hitler assassination plot involving Kickler and abraham lincoln fighting hitler as well this is a whole other rabbit hole for the future what the actual fuck

and the See Also includes a page for some lady who decided to claim she was john wilkes booth's daughter???

...okay, no idea how that by sheer coincidence made for the perfect segue, apparently what happened with the nickname thing from the start of this post is that one of my friends made his nickname "john wilkes booth" for the 4th of july for some reason, while doing a Soldier TF2 bit, and i also changed my nick to that and he threatened to sue me so i became "john wilkes booth's daughter" and i later had to explain to an australian who john wilkes booth was because of my nickname and also this apparently happened too what the fuck who was nicked Hitler???

#what the fuck do i even tag this as uh #i guess uh #wikipedia #i can't unironically tag this post john wilkes booth jesus fucking christ

2 notes · View notes

rythmicjea · 2 months ago

Text

Obsessed

Based on prompt #1 from my list of March Writing Prompts of the same name.

Veronica was not an insecure person. She was a very thorough person. She liked to know everything about her friends. She observed the tiniest of details in the name of a better friend. Including paramours. Light IG sleuthing into her exes exes wasn't unusual in this post-James Franco world. This was why finstas were invented.

If anyone were to ask Veronica about Jess, they might think she was in love. She practically knew everything about her - star chart, third grade teacher's name, blood type, etc. And with as much as she focused on the woman's social media you might think they were best friends. Jess putting everything out for the world to see!

"Jonsey!" Jess smiled brightly as she popped up to greet Jughead in the busy Brooklyn restaurant. Her eyes were shining with alcohol, and she kissed each of his cheeks as if she were cultured enough to be European.

"Jess," he said politely with a tinge of curt.

The tall Asian woman looked at Veronica and gasped, pretending that she forgot who the socialite was. They'd only met half a dozen times! "Vanessa…?"

Inside, Veronica was boiling with rage. All of the words she wanted to use about the 'writer' were unacceptable in polite society. "It's Veronica," her voice was smooth with wealth. "But you spend every night with someone new I wouldn't expect you to possibly remember my name." Did she just insinuate the woman was a prostitute? Yes, yes, she did. The cherry on top was her expression was that of wide-eyed naivety.

Jughead curled his girlfriend into his side tighter, smiling close-lipped, and Veronica gracefully snuggled closer. She would apologize later.

"So, there we were…" Jess was regaling some random happenstance about Jughead to the table. "…And I almost knocked him out because he tickled me and hit a reflex." The table chuckled and teased Jughead for his misfortune.

"That's so funny!" Veronica chuckled airily. Aww, she thinks we're playing The Girl Game… "That's nothing." She leaned in conspiratorially, looking at everyone, drawing them into her orbit. "I almost broke his nose when he was going do-"

"Ohhkay!" Jughead interrupted, clearly embarrassed. But the rest of the table broke out in raucous laughter, giving the point to Veronica.

Veronica shot an evil side-eye that Sofia Loren would be envious of. Have fun with the Junior's edition, bitch.

Back in Jughead's apartment the two were practically blowing the ceiling off. It was the same old song and dance. Jughead almost threw in a 'are you trying to manage me right now?' for good measure.

"What has gotten into you? This was a work event for me!"

"Yeah! And I had everyone wrapped around my little finger! A ‘thank you’ would be nice!" She kicked her shoes off angrily into some random corner, making her even smaller against his tall frame.

"A thank you!? You went Battle Royale with Jess all night!" He dragged his hands through his hair, the acupuncture giving him something to focus on.

How could she tell him that the woman got under her skin like no other? That she hated how he went back to her when things got rough? Or that she'd been insta-stalking her the whole time through her finsta? "And what do you think she was doing?"

"That's just how she is!"

"So, if I go into your Instagram there's not a stream of messages from her?" His face said it all. She knew he wasn't cheating. But just the thought of 'I miss how great we were, Jonesy' made her sick. "It kills me that she still thinks she has a chance. That, no matter how many times you wash your sheets I can still… still… smell her!"

Jughead sighed defeatedly, pulling her into him. Veronica pouted as he left a lingering kiss on her forehead. "They really did a number on us, huh?"

"I know you would never," she said looping her arms around his neck.

Jughead snored softly as Veronica stared at the ceiling. Even though they made up, she still felt antsy. She couldn't even fall asleep replying to the comments on the Instagram posts of her and Jughead and the rest of the party, sans Jess, of course. VeronicaCLodge and ForsythePJonesIII were becoming NYC society page darlings.

A notification trilled on her phone. Rum_Goddess__13 had a message from JessTheWrtr.

Ugh, that bitch gf of his was there 2nite

And Veronica relaxed into her pillow, smiling giddily, and sent off a quick reply.

Tell me everything!

No, Veronica was not an insecure person. But she was obsessed.

#riverdale #jughead jones #veronica lodge #jeronica #vughead #microfiction #micro fanfiction #march prompts #writing #daily writing prompt #jeronica fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #writeblr #season 5 #riverdale season 5 #Day 2 #Day 30 #365daychallenge

0 notes

randomestfandoms-ocs · 2 years ago

Text

You Signed Up For This Prompt List

Prompts for You Signed Up For This by Maisie Peters (+ a few bonus singles), practice good reblog karma and sent a prompt or two to the person you reblog this from

And I am sorry to make it about myself again but you, you signed up for this

Please don't give up on me yet

I know I'll get better, I’m just not better yet

Scared of everything but I'm making it punk

A small towner, I only drink to get drunk

I was so in love, and that don't come off in the wash kinda hope it does though

You're seeing someone pretty and I hate her guts, so

We were bad but we're gonna be good

And I resent you just a little if I'm honest

And I swore that I'd swallow my pride, and you swore you would do better this time

At least I'm trying

One for being lost and alone in your early twenties

One for being obsessed with someone who puts you secondary

One for calling guys with guitars in a cemetery

I want a sorry but I'll settle for a handshake

I'm the baby but I'm gonna be the bigger man, babe

Cause you're awful and I miss you and I killed you in my dream

It's a low when even in my dreams you still don't want me there

You might be awful like all of the time, yeah it's almost inspiring

This wasn't how it's supposed to go, I should be the one you're dancing with

It's not like I've been crying, no, there's just smoke in my eyes

Cause this ain't no John Hughes movie where the girl gets the guy

I keep waiting for the heartbreak music that's never gonna come

Cause if you don't want me then you're not the one

Everyone told me so, don't wait around for you

Guess I misunderstood, thought you liked me too

We went swimming in an outdoor pool and you wouldn't tell a soul at school

I'm just fifteen, I just want you so that's cool

But I don't swim and you're not in love

And you only kissed me after midnight in an outdoor pool

It's the worst day of my life but it's all good

I'm crying and it's ruining my makeup

I wasn't eating and you still said nothing

Now it's coming up roses, kicking up snow, what a long winter, what a bad joke

Love him, I did for a minute, but I'm finished 'cause I've learnt

You kept me as your favourite secret and I thought we just took it slow

I feel like you feel nothing, that's fine

Now that I'm over that hill, you wanna say how you feel

And you've got a girl but you still call me psycho

You made me feel so useful then so used

All your exes found me and so beware, we’re all friends now, maybe you should be scared

You're a serial cheater, 'you up?' text repeater

When I told you you were funny, I lied

You had a couple of exes and I know that they let you get away with it

If I was the last girl on earth you'd still be weighing up your options

She tries to get closer, so you go and ghost her

You're obsessed with your father, red flag and a half

I nearly buried the hatchet then I remembered how you messed with my head

I could be a grown up but baby, you know what maybe I'll release this song instead

I wasn't broken till you tried to fix me

I'd rather see love as an optimistic than know the things that I know now

You're the one that got away and you got away with a lot

They say it's better to have loved even if you lost bt I can tell you it's not

Cause I feel hollow

Now you're kissing that girl I shouldn't worry about, how do you think I'm dealing?

I'll burn this house, I mean it

Well, what does that make me then? I'm your villain

Now I'm drunk and I'm mean outside your house

Whole town's gonna hear how you messed me up

Sister I missed this

If you're looking for the girl of your dreams, she's in Brooklyn with me

"He's fit, go for it", but we wouldn't ever leave a sister behind

And if you wanna take her out, you're gonna have to ask me first

Come on, have you seen those eyes? It’s nothing but the best for her

I miss you already

You gave it all and I gave it up

Late nights in the old arcade, drinking cheap wine as Elvis plays

You were always on my mind

I was scared to throw my heart off the edge, easier to tell myself we'd mess it up instead

But I still wish things were different, don't you?

I can't stop, even if I wanted to, talking to strangers about you

And when I say "I'm sorry," baby, I'll be bluffing

All or nothing, you chose nothing

Thought I'd be a cool girl but turns out I'm livid

Bet you hope I'm done but there's no way I'm finished

Oh, you got away with it, you crossed then burnt the bridge

You pulled a lot of shit, I sat and bit my lip

Everybody knows that a breakup is better when there's someone to hate

But now everything is through, it’s you I wanna call though

I got busy and you forgot how to miss me

You are one tough act to follow

People don't leave people if they really are in love

I was good, just wasn't good enough

Nothing more frightening than a woman scorned

Baby, if you thought that I was trouble then you're gonna hate what's coming next

Is that an angel? No, it's your ex

Woah, I'll fuck your life up as a blonde

I'm gonna make your friends say "Man, you messed that up!" and I would have to agree

You'll rue the day you did me wrong, I’ll put your name in all the songs

I'll twist the knife, it will be fun, fucking your life up

Pinky promised that I wouldn't love somebody if they didn't

They're tortured and I wouldn't understand it

Plus they got a lot of unexamined father/son baggage, they don't wanna talk about it, is that a challenge?

Funny I could pick 'em in a line up, pretty certain I could do it with my eyes shut

I think "You're so cool and different," and then the law pulls up and you won't get in the car and I'm like, "Oh, goddamn, not another rockstar"

Talk about me, make it all about you

You'd leave me dead if it'd set you apart

Aren't I lucky 'cause he could have chosen any girl to fuck with? And he chose me, so I guess I should be grateful

A little self-obsessive and I sign up, where's the pen? Where's the line?

Glad that I got out before it got dark

You could be a better person, no, it's not hard

If there was a moment in this where you saw it goin' different, tell me what part

#ask game #my ask game #prompts #prompt list #my prompts

1 note · View note

appocalipse · 2 years ago

Note

Idk if you're still doing that prompt list but "sick" or scenario 13 with Steve would be 🥹🥹

i wasn't going to do it anymore, but...reading those prompts gave me an idea so i decided to try ♥ i kinda mixed them together

[SICK; Trying not to look but helping them out of their clothes when they’re physically unable to, both of them so close together. ]

"Steve," you had called, worry eating at you. Halfway to the front door, he'd turned and looked at you over his shoulder. And so, even though you knew the answer, even though you hated the answer he would inevitably give you, you'd asked, "Do you have someone to take care of you?"

And that's how, you remind yourself, you ended up where you are now — moments away from helping him out of his clothes.

The thought seems alarming, but there's nothing romantic or sexual about it.

Or at least there shouldn't be.

"Here," you say, touching the hem of his sweater with shaky hands, hoping he doesn't notice your inexplicable uneasiness. "Let me help you."

Steve lets you. He's a much better patient than you are a nurse, you think. But the reason you're here, helping him out of his uncomfortable clothes so he can hopefully catch some sleep is pretty valid: he's broken his right arm, and as if it wasn't bad enough there is also a cut on the left side of his abdomen, just below the ribs, big enough he'd needed 8 stitches to close it.

In his defense, the car crash hadn't been his fault.

The sweater is gone after what seems like an eternity of careful movements and apologies at every slightest hint that Steve was in pain (although he'd assured you the whole time that it's okay, it's okay, I'm fine), but in the end, you're successful. How the people at the hospital had managed to get those clothes on him so quickly is an absolute mystery to you.

You breathe a sigh of relief, a small burden lifted from your shoulders. You don't even have to look to know that Steve is beaming. The fact that he is so calm through it all is even more maddening to you.

Next up is his t-shirt.

The cycle of nervousness starts all over again when your fingers find the hem of his shirt and you start to lift it up, exposing a small sliver of skin, then a bit more...

Steve says your name and it's the first thing he says after many minutes of being silent, so you lift your head to look at him without a second thought.

"Breathe," he says, certainly not without kindness but with an unmistakable amount of amusement in his tone as well.

He's too close. Almost nose to nose, a hairsbreadth of distance between your face and his.

And yes, as much as it bothers you to admit it, Steve is right — you were holding your breath without realizing it.

He bites his lip to hide a smile. "That's not funny," you chide, though you're trying to contain your own smile.

"You're nervous."

"You had eight stitches and broke an arm."

"Sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," you say, because it wasn't, although he probably isn't apologizing for that specifically.

Steve always drives carefully and responsibly, most likely because there's almost always one of the kids in the backseat of his car. The problem that caused the accident was some malfunction in the car, something you hadn't quite understood because all you could really think about since you found out that Steve had crashed the car was him; if he would be okay, if you'd be able to see him, if he'd be in pain. Most of the explanations got lost on the way from your ears to your brain.

"I meant I'm sorry for calling you," says Steve, and for the first time he sounds serious, almost embarrassed. "From the hospital. They tried my parents first, but they-"

"-are idiots," you say, with more contempt than you probably should let on. Then you realize how rude that probably sounded like. "Sorry, I-I shouldn't have said that. They're still your parents and-"

To your surprise, Steve laughs — a low, small chuckle that barely lasts a second, and even so it's enough to make him wince, probably feeling pain. Fortunately, it passes quickly. "No, no, you're right. I was going to say they're out of town as always, but you're right. They are idiots."

You smile.

The feeling that took over you the moment you'd arrived at the hospital to see Steve and realized that he was there, alone, was indescribable. He was alone in there as if he had no family. As if nobody cared about him.

Maybe it was for the better that his parents didn't show up until now, you think. You're not quite sure what you would have said or done if they had appeared in front of you.

Great. Now there's a lump in your throat.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Steve would have shrugged if he wasn't injured, you're sure. "I'm used to taking care of myself, it's no big deal."

"Well, you can forget about that," you say firmly. Because I'm going to take care of you from now on, you hope he understands.

He doesn't say anything. It doesn't seem like he's able to, you realize. But, in his silence, Steve understands; he understands so well that he cannot express his gratitude in words, his affection. He hopes that you will be able to read it in his eyes.

Back to your task, you take a deep breath, looking away from his face to where your hands are gripping the fabric tightly. You help him pull his shirt over his head very slowly, very carefully.

If Steve feels any pain, he doesn't let it show. It wouldn't be the first time, but you hope it's not the case, hope he's not in pain anymore, that he feels he can be vulnerable in front of you. Everyone needs to be at some point.

There's not much else to look at than Steve's now exposed chest, although you do your best not to stare. The flush creeping up your cheeks betrays you, though, and now there's only one piece of clothing remaining.

Steve is wearing jeans. You can't sleep in jeans, can you?

"You don't sleep with a shirt on, do you?" you ask, wondering if he'd like something else to wear.

"No," he says. "No pants either."

Your mind freezes for a brief second. Probably not your brightest moment. "Do you want me to- I mean-"

You're far from a doctor, but it doesn't seem like a good idea for him to bend over to take off his own pants when he's had that many stitches.

"Are you asking me if I want you to take my pants off?" Steve is making a huge effort not to smirk, you can tell.

How can he be so relaxed?

Somehow what comes out of your mouth is, "I promise I won't look."

"I don't mind if you do."

A shiver runs down your spine and you feel what can only be described as butterflies in your stomach, something wonderful and unnerving at the same time. Your gaze meets his and you try to sound convincing as you say, with your chin held up, "Stop messing with me, Harrington."

"But I like messing with you."

"Oh my God-" you let out something between a sigh and a small laugh. "I hate you."

"You love me."

And then, it's like your mouth works on its own.

"I do," you find yourself saying.

And, as expected, silence follows. Steve looks shocked. This silence seems to last a lifetime, to stretch out impossibly longer — it's an everlasting torture. You didn't mean to drop the l-bomb on him like this, didn't mean to say the words even though you knew them to be true. He probably did too, but hearing it out loud is a different thing entirely.

Steve's mind is a mess.

Did you mean it as a friend? he wonders.

Did you mean it as something else?

Did you mean it at all?

Then…

Does it change how I feel?

No.

"I love you too."

Unlike you, Steve sounds firm, certain. Like it's a decision. Like he is ready for it to change everything between you two or nothing at all if that's what you want.

"I would do all of this for you too, if you were in my place," he continues…and then he frowns, as if something unpleasant just occurred to him. "Actually, please never be in my place- I don't even want to think about you in pain. Okay?"

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things drabble #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things oneshot #stranger things imagine #stranger things #can i ever stay away from this blog? no I can't

753 notes · View notes

ensnapemysenses · 2 years ago

Text

If Only for a Moment Longer

Pairing: Snape x Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

A/N: This idea came about from an ask I received from an anon with a list of holiday fic prompts! I combined two of them and came up with this! I also think it is very fitting with the prompts 'fireside' and 'snuggles' from week one of Snolidays 2022! Hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 888

Masterlist

Severus stands in the castle's entrance, shivering, his robes covered in the powder of freshly fallen snow and his sack of harvested herbs slung over his shoulder like Saint Nicholas. He shimmies off his snowshoes followed by his damp outer robes and gloves, scowling at the thought of a student seeing him in his current state but knowing he must remove the soiled clothing immediately or he will be facing a rather nasty bout of hypothermia.

As excellent an excuse that would be to miss teaching these dunderheads on their last class before winter break, he would rather eat his own crusty, decade-old shoes and do a funny dance in front of the whole school than allow another professor into his classroom to cover for him. He can’t stand the thought of someone going into his classroom, teaching the students wrong, and silently judging him for the things he keeps in there.

He drifts down to the dungeons, which are slightly warmer than the freezing temperatures outside the castle, and drops the herbs off in his potion storeroom to dry out for the night. These things are best stored completely dry in order for them to retain their freshness and quality longer.

Upon entering his chambers, Severus throws his damp clothing by the fireplace to dry, then he takes a scalding hot shower. The water effectively warms him up in no time but for safe measure he wraps himself tightly in his warmest robe and settles down on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate, propping his feet up by the fire. He’s soon finding himself lost in the catalog showcasing all the spring seeds that will be for sale at his favorite shop in Hogsmeade and making mental notes for what he will use his school allowance to buy for his classroom when the time comes.

His quiet time is cut short quickly by a rather loud knock on his door. He groans, not wanting to get up he yells across the room at the perpetrator.

“Whoever you are, go away! I have no business with anyone tonight.”

“You missed the feast tonight, Severus,” the voice says. “I brought you a plate. May I come in?”

He recognizes that voice and his ears perk up at the sound.

He calls out their name. “I am in no state for visitors tonight. I am recovering from a cold.”

A lie? Not really, he is recovering from the harsh icy blizzard he just went out in for hours to forage potion ingredients. It’s only a different meaning of the word, there’s no harm done in stretching the truth. Especially in circumstances that would lead to someone laying their eyes upon him in his current vulnerable state — only his bathrobe covering him.

“Severus, I saw you outside rummaging around in the snow for merlin knows what! I know you aren’t sick yet, but you will be if you don’t eat a warm meal and get your strength up!”

Snape sighs. If that idiotic professor wants to lay their eyes upon the scene of him relaxing in front of the fireplace half naked then so be it. He’s sure it will cause them to scurry away from embarrassment and get them out of his hair quicker.

“Fine, come in.”

Waving his wand, Severus unlocks the door and it slowly creaks open. The professor slips in and almost drops the plate of steaming food on the floor.

“Never seen a grown man lounging in his own chambers before? Pick your jaw up off the floor and have a seat.” Severus gestures toward the empty space on the couch next to him.

“I - I think I should go,” they blush.

“How absurd! After all, you said it yourself, I’m about to freeze to death. Be a dear and get over here. I could use a good snuggle.”

The thing that happens next surprises Severus. He fully expected to be left alone after a few muttered apologies and embarrassed glances, but before he knows it, he is not alone on the couch anymore and the space between the two of them is no more than mere centimeters.

The plate of food remains forgotten on the entryway table as their bodies move together subconsciously to melt into one seamlessly. Severus feels every cell in his body lighting up and sending tingles down his spine, warming him in a way that the fireplace cannot. It seeps through to his very soul, bringing a new feeling of contentment and belonging to his heart. How long has it been since he’s been in such close proximity to another human? He isn’t sure.

He sighs and snuggles down deeper, closing his eyes. His hand decides to take a bold step before his mind can stop him and it delicately traces circles on their thigh as they both sit in silence.

He could get used to this – comfortable silence spent in the presence of another with the warmth of their body next to his.

The only thing that warns him of the time passing is the crackling of the fireplace and their deep slowing breaths as they both become heavy with sleep.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbles, his eyes slowly opening.

“I could stay,” they hesitantly suggest.

“Please,” Severus whispers. “If only for a moment longer.”

#snolidays2022 #snapecelebration2022 #snapecelebration #severus snape x reader #snape #severus snape #severus snape fic #snape x reader #snape fluff #severus snape fluff #ensnapemysenses

228 notes · View notes

ateezreactionsandscenarios · 3 years ago

Text

Mingi as a Boyfriend (Extended)

Prompt List MasterList Buy me a Coffee

- The most caring and sweetest bean you will ever meet, even though he has his own anxieties and issues he still puts you first, your happiness and comfort means the world to him and just seeing you smile will make his day 10x better.

- He’s the kind of boyfriend to check in every so often throughout the day, checking if you’re okay, if you’ve eaten, asking what you’re up to or just to simply tell you he loves and misses you.

- His bad days can come and go and after a while you’re able to detect the warning signs, he’s happy to have his space when he needs it but will always end up crawling over to you for cuddles or even just a shoulder to cry on, he trusts you with everything he has and is not affraid to be vulnerable around you.

- His kisses can either be short sweet pecks, not just one, they’re all over your face and if he can’t kiss your face he’s peppering little kisses on your hand and would sometimes trail them up your arm Gomez Addam’s style. Or his kisses could be much deeper cupping your face in both his hands as he pulls you in, holding onto you for dear life almost like if his hold on you loosens you’ll slip away.

- Cuddles with this tall bean will be the cutest, his whole body engulfs you when you cuddle, his arms wrapped tightly around either your neck or waist while his legs are tangled with yours like giant human pretzels, from time to time you’d also be able to feel him tracing small shapes on your skin.

- I feel he’d also be the type who would randomly go to the store with you at 2am, doesn’t matter what for or what the weather is like he’s there, even if he didn’t want anything he’d just tag along for your company.

- He’d 100% make a playlist for you filled with songs you both love, songs where the lyrics really show how he feels about you and songs that remind him of you, he’d even title it something either really cute or an inside joke that has you both dying of laughter every time you see the playlist.

- Gets all blushy and flustered when you compliment him, some days he doesn’t believe a word of it and gets really shy, but deep down he loves it and it does give him the ego boost he needs.

- KARAOKE DATES. This would be a regualr thing and it would always end with you crying in laughter, you’d start the date trying to sing the songs properly and have a mini concert with each other but you quickly get bored of doing things the right way and the date quickly turns into singing with funny voices or trying to impersonate other singer’s voices in an attempt to make the other laugh.

- He’d be so protective of you, anyone does so much as give you a dirty look and he’s ready to confront them, you can always count on him to fight your corner, he wou;dn’t be afraid to throw hands if needed, he’d be your physical, verbal and mental support.

Smut Section

- He’s not very vocal during sex, too focused on making you feel just as good as he does, he’ll let out a few grunts and groans and maybe a cuss here and there.

- He’ll be hesitant to start with when it comes to being rough with you, the last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but the more and more you encourage him the more he’ll warm up to it, seeing how you respond to the slaps and the chokes would send his mind into overdrive and he’ll be sure to do more of that in the future.

- Mingi would be AMAZING at oral and wouldn’t stop until you practically beg him to.

- BODY WORSHIP!!!!! This man loves every inch of you and he’s 1000% going to show it.

- I think Mingi is more of a love maker than a fucker, he just wants you to feel so loved and amazing and puts your pleasure as top priority. On the other hand, he can be a fucker when his had a crappy day and he’s a bit pissed off and in need of some stress relief, so when he’s like this get ready.

- A switch but leans more to dom, a very soft dom, he knows your limits and stays well away from them, can become a hard dom if you REALLY want him to.

- So much praise, like I said before he’s not very vocal but his actions will do all the talking for him, the way he looks at you, his kisses and the way his hands are all over you will be more than enough, there can be days were he might get a bit vocal telling you how well you’re doing and good you are for him. The praises will more often than not come out once you’re finished, cuddling into each other as he strokes your hair telling you how amazing you are.

- I think sex with Mingi would start off as you both messing around and doing random shit and then you both get that little too close to each other and one thing will lead to another and you can’t keep your hands off each other, times like this sex wouldn’t intentionally be the end goal but neither of you are complaining when it does happen.

- He’d be the type to tease you in public, dinner with a group of friends and he has his hand slowly creeping further up your thigh, a deep kiss or bite on the neck when no one is looking and maybe even a sneeky ass grab when he can get away with it. All his teasing would be very spaced out, just as you start to think he’s done teasing you he comes back with more.

- King of aftercare, he’d worry about getting you cleaned up and comfy before anything else, he’d run you a bath after you finish and while it’s running he’d wipe you over lightly with a warm damp cloth and shower you with small kisses. After your bath he’d have your clothes laid out on the bed ready for you before pulling into bed again for cuddles.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez as #ateez as boyfriends #mingi #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi as #mingi as a boyfriend #song mingi as #song mingi as a boyfriend #mingi hard hours #mingi soft hours #ateez hard hours #ateez soft hours #kpop #kpop reactions #kpop hard hours #kpop soft hours

165 notes · View notes

whataboutmyfries · 2 years ago

Text

Wildest dreams (come to life)

Right, so i understand why you'd think this was a paraphrased/mutilated taylor swift song used to hint at a TS songfic but I can promise that this is not that. Instead, have an un-betaed fic that I wrote in multiple fits of midnight/way-too-early-morning fits of inspiration. a wee bit nsfw but no actual explicit-ness

This is, of course prompt number nine (!!!) from this prompt list! the whole collection can also be found on Ao3 here! enjoy!

9. unbuttoning your lover's shirt, pressed against the wall

Remus grinned at his husband, wine-drunk and laughing as they stumbled out of the cab, drunkenly waving at the man driving away. Remus could scarcely believe how incredibly happy he was, married to the love of his life, and his best friend (though Lily would kill him if she ever found out. Remus repeatedly promised her she was a very close second, almost tied for first, and she just laughed, elbowing him in the ribs)

“Thank you, mister Taxi man! You’re the best!”

Remus laughs, slipping his hand into Sirius’s, twining their fingers together, stealing his husband’s (husband’s) warmth. Sirius turned, the streetlights bringing out the midnight-blue tones in his hair. Remus’s heart did funny things in his chest at the sight of those devastating dimples flashed in his direction. He grinned right back, his knees going a little weak and his heart taking to fluttering happily, thumping unsteadily at the thought that he got to bring this stunning man home (to their home)

Sirius’s wink was all the warning he got before he yanked Remus into his side, his strong arm coming to catch Remus around the waist, the two of them laughing and stumbling (just a little) to the front door, Remus doubling over in laughter when Sirius dropped the keys (twice).

Sirius glared at him, bending over to get the key into the keyhole, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he squinted at the handle.

Remus, meanwhile, was far too preoccupied observing the delicious curve of his husband’s (Husband!!!!) arse. He grinned, his face scrunching up with joy as he gently patted Sirius’s ass through his jeans.

“Hmmmmm” Sirius stood up triumphantly, having finally gotten the door open. He turned to look at Remus, stumbling just a little with how quickly he spun on his heel.

“Remus John Lupin-Black, did you just hum and pet my arse like it’s some sort of absurd…..cat-creature?” Sirius chuckled at the end of his sentence, awfully pleased with himself at his little joke.

Remus shrugged, leaning forward to wrap his hands around Sirius’s shoulders (damn, his husband had some nice shoulders.), “Well, it’s a very nice arse. It’s not like I could just stop myself.”

Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’s waist, trying and failing to hide the amusement in his voice as he pulled his husband closer.

“Oh, you just couldn’t stop yourself, huh? My mistake then, carry on.”

Remus grinned, tipping his head to lean closer into Sirius’s space, their lips brushing as he said, “Ask nicely, and maybe I will.”

Sirius’s eyes heated, the hands at Remus’s waist gripping tighter as his heart raced, his breath hitching at the fire in Remus’s words.

Remus cocked an eyebrow, grinning against his husband’s lips as Sirius tugged him into their house, kicking the door shut behind them (and pinning Remus against it), never parting their lips for so much as a second while he devoured Remus like a man starved. Remus grinned devilishly, exceptionally pleased with the effect he had on his husband; Sirius bit playfully at his lip in return and Remus groaned into the kiss, scrambling to un-tuck the half of Sirius’s shirt that was still tucked neatly into the (sinfully, delightfully, deliciously) fitted trousers he’d worn for the special occasion. Sirius caught on, and Remus let out a debauched moan as Sirus’s head dropped to his neck, sucking at where his pulse ratcheted against his husband’s positively sinful mouth.

“Bedroom, darling?” Remus gasped out as Sirius did unholy things‌ to his neck and collarbones, his warm hands finding their way up Remus’s shirt, nimble fingers tracing the dips in his spine.

Sirius just hummed, tracing a path up Remus’s neck only to capture his lips in a devastating kiss, his weight pinning Remus to the door as his nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons of Remus’s shirt, warm hands eagerly shoving the fabric off of warm skin to let Sirius mouth at the newly exposed skin.

Remus couldn’t help his choked moan as Sirius mouthed a trail down his body, stopping only when Remus’s head thunked gently against the door.

Mercury eyes met hazel, and Sirius smirked.

“Eyes on me Lupin”

(Holy fucking mother of god fucking CHRIST motherfucking fucking god how is he so ho—)

Remus could have sworn his brain fused out when he saw Sirius on his knees, looping up at him as he unfastened Remus’s trousers. He took a second to marvel at how gorgeous his husband looked like this; utterly debauched, his shirt hanging open on his (positively edible) shoulders, the tie he’d untied and slung around the back of his neck brushing against his muscled torso as he looked up at Remus (he was on his knees. For Remus. Formeformehe’sallmineforever)

Remus’s heart burst into a thousand shimmering pieces as Sirius pressed reverent kisses to his thighs, pausing only to suck bruises into the muscle of Remus’s v-line and Remus groaned, already imagining how pretty they’d look the next day. His hips thrusted involuntarily as Sirius bit gently at the spot he’d just licked and Remus twined his fingers through Sirius’s hair, tugging him up to kiss him desperately.

“Bed. Definitely bed.”

Sirius laughed, the sound pressed into the soft skin of Remus’s shoulder. For just a second, Remus could have sworn he could feel it fill him up with a glowing warmth, spreading from Sirius’s lips all the way into his very soul.

“Bed it is.”

Remus let out a choked gasp as Sirius picked him up in one smooth motion, Remus’s legs going around his waist almost on instinct. Sirius smiled, pulling Remus impossibly closer as he reached up for a soft, slow kiss.

“Happy five years, mister Lupin-Black”

Remus looked down at the face of his most fantastic dreams come to life. He smiled, incandescently happy as he cupped Sirius’s face in his hands to kiss him again.

“Happy five years, mister Black-Lupin”

Comments and reblogs are stored in a jar on a shelf to help bring this author joy and glee when the motivation runs dry :))

#whataboutmywriting #wolfstar #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #remus loves sirius #sirius loves remus #marauders era fanfiction

83 notes · View notes

noodleblade · 2 years ago

Note

prompt- simpatico publicly debating (flirting) and everyone else is done with it

Enjoy this silly little nonsense. It was fun to write. hope you don't mind the very background rodimags in this:) AO3 Link.

“How could someone as brilliant as you be so stupid ,” Brainstorm snapped, optics ablaze.

“I’m the stupid one?” Perceptor hissed, servo slamming hard on the table. “You may be one of the most intelligent mechs on this ship, but that doesn’t mean your processor isn’t glitched beyond repair-”

Rodimus groaned at the head of the meeting table, pressing his digits into his optic sockets. This went ignored by both scientists, too caught up in an argument Rodimus couldn’t even remember the reasoning for. And for once, he had actually been paying attention.

They had been discussing engine maintenance and scheduling a ship docking so they could shut them down completely. That was all boring but it also presented an opportunity to give the crew a much needed shore leave, which Rodimus was very invested in. He did his best to listen to Perceptor drone on because that meant in a few cycles he’d be off the ship and able to roam free. Somehow, in addressing the adjustment testing they wanted to run, Brainstorm and Perceptor had started bickering and nitpicking at each other’s points, ultimately going to where it always went doing these meetings- incessant arguing to conceal the worst flirting Rodimus had ever witnessed.

It had been going on for sometime now that Rodimus had ultimately lost track of how long . He could probably check the minutes he knew Ultra Magnus was meticulously maintaining but he rather this whole thing just be over with . The meeting already exceeded their estimated time slot and there seemed to be no end in sight. The only mechs actually paying attention at this point were Ultra Magnus (for the minutes) and Drift who looked like he desperately wanted to intervene to play moderator. Even Megatron who was frustratingly annoying about proving himself to be a “respectable” captain had started messing around on his datapad, clearly not paying attention.

“Oh Primus-” Rodimus buried his face into his servos “-if I order you two to frag already will you both shut up .”

Beside him, Ultra Magnus made a series of stammers, too appalled to get the words out and settled for narrowing a glare at the captain. On his other side, Drift let out a long, exasperated exvent.

Immediately the yelling ceased. Perceptor looked as if he had been struck while Brainstorm twitched, optics jumping to Rodimus to Ultra Magnus to Perceptor to Drift back to Perceptor, nervous clicking coming as he tried and failed to speak.

“ Rodimus ,” Drift whispered harshly, “let them figure it out on their own.”

“No!” Rodimus slapped his servos on the table like petulant sparkling. “Nothing happens ever . It’s the same thing! Over and over and over and over! It used to be funny but now it's just sad. I’m done.” Rodimus crossed his arms over his chassis and pointedly looked at the two scientists. “We are having an intervention. Mags, call Chromedome, Rewind, Tailgate, Swerve. Probably need Ratchet here too and then at that point, bring in First Aid. Nautica for sure, Nightbeat, Skids. Anyone else I’m missing that’s issued a complaint?”

Ultra Magnus let out a heavy exvent before adding, “Whirl. Multiple times.”

“Add him to the summons, might as well put Cyclonus on there too.” Rodimus leaned in towards his Second to ‘whisper’, “He hasn’t said anything, but I know he’s got a list of complaints too.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait ,” Brainstorm yelled, vocalizer almost squeaking out each word. “Complaints? What did we do?”

“ This! ” Rodimus gestured between the two scientists in an aggravated swipe. “All the time! Every meeting! It’s the worst type of flirting I’ve ever seen, even for two mega-nerds like you.”

Perceptor bristled. “Flirting?”

“Mega-nerds?!” Brainstorm yelped in offense. “Try geniuses. Sorry you cannot comprehend true academic debate.”

“It’s not debate if all you do is swing the most poorly concealed compliments I’ve ever heard. The amount of times you jerk off each other’s genius is borderline obscene and that’s coming from me.” Rodimus flopped his torso onto the table, covering his helm in his arms. “You both have no swagger and no game and it’s so embarrassing , you make Mags look like Casanova and he thinks audit reports are foreplay.”

“Who?” Ultra Magnus asked, clearly unsure if it was a genuine compliment or not, embarrassment tinged his field at the mention of audit reports belying some truth to that.

Rodimus waved him off. “So either frag each other’s processors into blue screen or get over it . Even Megatron is done with it.”

At the far end of the table, Megatron looked up from his datapad. He rolled his optics, gave a stiff, reluctant nod and turned back to his reading.

“See?”

Perceptor sighed. “Look, even though I find Brainstorm clever beyond words and a true marvel of scientific ingenuity, doesn’t mean I-“

“Wait really?” Brainstorm cut him off with quiet wonder. “You really think that?”

Rodimus was ready to blow a gasket if he hadn’t already. “He’s only been saying it for months ! Five kliks ago he called you the smartest guy here! That’s basically Perceptor asking you to pop your panel now-”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Drift slapped his servo over Rodimus’ mouth. Thankfully, both scientists ignored whatever had come out of their captain, optics locked on each other. Brainstorm’s optics were wide with awe and hope . Perceptor looked almost shy .

“Maybe we should leave them? Or excuse them?” Ultra Magnus dropped his voice to address the other mechs at the table but Drift shut that down.

“Absolutely not. We are finally getting somewhere.” Rodimus vigorously nodded, despite Drift’s grip on his helm.

Perceptor’s vocalized made a small, embarrassing burst of static before he ducked his helm. “I thought it was quite obvious, how much I admire you.”

“I-” Brainstorm’s wings shifted uncertainly. “You never said anything.”

Drift struggled to keep his servo latched on Rodimus, muffling his rage.

“Perhaps a mistake on my part,” Perceptor admitted softly. “I’ll correct myself in the future.”

Brainstorm squirmed in his seat, servos distractedly turning his data pad around. “I’ll make sure to do the same.” Brainstorm dared a peek up, their optics meeting. “You mean a lot to me.”

“Me too,” Perceptor agreed, too soft and too fond.

Rodimus ripped Drift’s servo off. “This is worse. This is so much worse. I rather hear Perceptor use the worst sciency words to describe Brainstorm’s aft than this .”

“Perhaps,” Brainstorm’s digits nervously tapped on the tabletop, embarrassment coloring his field, “Percy and I should excuse ourselves?”

“Only if you agree to frag-”

Drift was silencing Rodimus once more. Ultra Magnus thankfully had more tact when he spoke.

“Perhaps it would be best to continue your discussion in private. We can reconvene next cycle.”

Hesitantly, Brainstorm stood first, optics watching Perceptor nervously. Perceptor was quick to join him, servo extended almost shyly . Rodimus wanted to peel his plating off at the virginal display. Drift managed to keep his groans of dismay muffled as Brainstorm accepted the extended servo, their digits interlocking as they left the meeting room.

“You,” Megatron finally spoke as the doors to the meeting room snapped shut, “you lose the bet.” Looking up from his datapad, Megatron smirked. “I believe no one was supposed to interfere with it.”

“Frag off,” Rodimus grumbled, “I just saved everyone. You're welcome . If anything, you all should be paying me for my services.”

Megatron didn’t deign him a response, simply standing up and leaving the room. Drift was quick to follow, patting Rodimus on the helm affectionately. All the remained were the captain and his Second.

“We didn’t finish the meeting.”

“I think there should be a bylaw about postponing meetings for saving everyone the humiliation of watching that .”

Ultra Magnus hummed in consideration for a moment before hesitantly asking, “So the audit reports are not acceptable for you?”

Rodimus patted his Second’ servo lightly. “I didn’t say that, Mags. But we do need to work on foreplay. Don’t worry, I don’t mind.”

#maccadam #simpatico #brainstorm #perceptor #rodimus #ultra magnus #drift #megatron #mtmte #transformers #my fics #anonymous #prompt ask

24 notes · View notes

bluejayblueskies · 4 years ago

Note

oh if you did a little something for jonmartin and "hiding their face in the other’s neck" i would be so 🥺💕

touches prompt list

a little post-circus kidnapping hurt/comfort! cw for wounds/injury, mild blood, mentions of non-consensual touching, and mentions of kidnapping

There is a stranger’s elbow digging into Jon’s side.

He shifts from one foot to the other, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his side while surreptitiously giving the stranger a glare that he hopes adequately conveys his dislike of the current situation. The tube is packed, as it always is at this time of day, and there are… so many strange hands. An elbow, at least, is better than the hand that had pressed to his back as the individual it belonged to had instinctively tried to maintain their balance.

After all, Nikola didn’t touch him with her elbows.

Jon doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think about any of it. He wants to lie down in a soft bed and get his first good night’s sleep in a month and finally have the space to process. Alone.

Instead, Martin stands next to him on the train. His hand rests just beneath Jon’s where it grips one of the metal poles, and Martin takes care not to brush against him despite how crowded the car is. Jon considered telling Martin, when they first got on the tube, that it was okay—that his touch would be… well, it wouldn’t be bad. But he’d stayed silent, allowing Martin to cultivate a careful space between them. They’ve been silent for the past twenty minutes as they’ve passed by station after station on their way to Martin’s flat in Brixton.

“I have a flat,” Jon had said uncomprehendingly when Martin had suggested (or rather, gently begged) that Jon come back to his flat with him. “It’s, um. It’s nice. Spacious. S-sturdy locks.”

“You… you don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Martin had said, sounding and looking very much like he wished Jon would anyway.

“I’m fine.” Jon was not fine. But he could be fine until he got back to his flat. It was always good to have a short-term goal.

Martin gave him a look that clearly said that he thought Jon was full of shit. Jon was, but it was still unnecessary. He was just trying to keep it together. What did Martin want—him sobbing and crumpling to the floor right here in the Archives? No, that wouldn’t do at all.

“You were kidnapped. Twice now. I really don’t want it to happen a third time. Besides, I…” Martin trailed off and fluttered his hands at his sides. “I—I should take a look at your hand. And your, um. Wrists.”

Jon looked down at his arms. They were, indeed, quite red and raw and scabbed over and likely to scar. Nikola had been irritated when she’d seen that he’d been tied up so tightly, but she’d decided there was nothing to be done about it. She would just ‘make do with what she had.’ And, well. She had never stopped Breekon and Hope when they’d cinched the ropes just a little bit tighter each time.

“I have first aid supplies in my flat,” Jon lied. He was fairly certain that he had a backpack of What the Ghost merchandise and a single mattress to his name at the moment. “I can take care of it.”

“So can I.” Martin took a deep breath. “I just… I don’t want to see you hurt, Jon.” His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, and he looked over Jon’s shoulder at the wall behind him. “J-just for tonight, at least? I want…” Martin swallowed. “I want to make sure you’re safe.”

And then Martin had turned those lovely blue eyes to his, and, well. Here they are.

Jon adds 24 hours onto his mental countdown of the time he has left until he’s allowed to break down and tells himself that he can manage. It’s… important to have long-term goals as well. He splits this one into steps.

Step one: get to Martin’s flat without crying. He achieves this easily enough. He finally escapes the cloying presence of strangers as Martin’s door shuts behind them, and then it’s blissfully quiet. Martin flips on a light, illuminating the space in pale yellow. It’s a little bit messy but otherwise spartan. The walls are painted a dull eggshell white, the floor made of cheap lino. Martin sits Jon down on the couch and disappears into the bathroom. Jon stares at the wall and focuses on breathing evenly and thinking about anything other than how smooth his skin feels when he slowly rubs his fingers together.

Step two: let Martin bandage his wounds without crying. This is… more challenging, if only because it hurts. Martin apologizes profusely as he wets a cotton ball with isopropyl alcohol and gently cleans the inflamed areas. Jon sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, focusing on anything other than the stinging, burning sensation in his wrists and hands. Funny—he’d thought that at this point, he would be used to the pain, but he’s not. All he knows now is what to expect.

Martin carefully wraps his hand and wrists in bandages. For a moment after he’s done, he delicately holds Jon’s hands in his like they’re porcelain. His hands are warm and soft, and Jon imagines how lovely they would feel against his cheeks. He thinks briefly that Martin is going to raise his unbandaged hand to his lips and lay a kiss across the back of it, but Martin doesn’t. Instead, he sets Jon’s hands back in his lap and stands, mumbling that he’s going to go make some tea.

Jon scrubs his uninjured hand across his eyes, just once.

Step three: sit on the couch with Martin and drink tea without crying. Martin presses a mug of steaming chamomile into his good hand and lays a plate of biscuits between them. “Th-they’re your favorite,” Martin says with a small, nervous laugh, like Jon’s not already staring at the plate with something choked sitting in the back of his throat. “I—I figured you probably haven’t really eaten today, and… I don’t really know what you’ve eaten lately. So, um. Yeah.”

Jon thinks of the things that Nikola had called food, then chooses not to think of them at all. He tucks the memory into a box next to cold hands and exposed skin and burning ropes and slams the lid before it can all come spilling back out again. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. He gingerly takes a biscuit in his stiff, aching hand that hasn’t had the time to heal properly and probably won’t get the chance to do so in the future and pops it into his mouth whole so he doesn’t get crumbs on Martin’s couch.

Step four: eat a biscuit that tastes like the best biscuit you’ve ever had and is the first palatable food you’ve had in weeks without crying.

“Jon?”

Jon blinks and comes back to himself. He’s staring blankly at Martin’s face, at eyebrows folded in concern and mouth curled into a small frown. Martin’s freckles are smudged into smears of tan, and the lines of his jaw waver like a mirage in front of Jon’s eyes. That’s odd, Jon thinks. Then, he feels something wet hit the top of his cheek.

Oh, no.

Quickly, Jon reaches up and scrubs the tears away from his eyes. As soon as he lowers his hand, more spring up in their place. He curses and sets his mug of tea down heavily on the table, taking one more look at Martin—whose eyes are now wide with worry—before turning away and attempting to pull himself together.

Step five: stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying.

(Stop crying, his grandmother says as he stands in the living room, hands and knees dirty and hair a mess. He’s managing to say words between his sobs, words like book and stole and spider. She’s frowning at him, but her voice is still patient and calm when she says, You’re not making any sense, Jonathan. Stop crying, please, and speak clearly. You had a nightmare?)

“Jon, what’s—” Martin catches himself, which Jon is thankful for. He thinks that if Martin had finished that question—asked him what’s wrong—Jon wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from saying, what isn’t? “What can I do to help?” he says instead, a hand hovering carefully in the air between them like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch Jon or not.

“Don’t look,” Jon manages to say. He immediately feels ridiculous and follows with a quick: “S-sorry, it’s—I don’t k-know how to—I’m not—I’m n-not good at—”

“I’m not looking,” Martin says softly.

Jon cuts off, takes a breath, and turns his head back toward Martin. True to his word, Martin has his eyes closed, though his hand remains in the air between them. Jon presses his good hand to his mouth for a moment to hide how the sight rips a new, more ragged sob out of him. Then, tentatively, he reaches forward and takes Martin’s hand.

Martin inhales sharply. Jon almost lets go, but Martin curls his fingers around Jon’s hand and squeezes. He holds Jon’s hand tightly yet so achingly softly, and Jon could weep. (Or rather, is weeping.)

“Can I hug you?” Martin says abruptly, like he’d been fighting an internal battle about whether or not to say it and had just lost. His cheeks darken, but he doesn’t say anything else or take it back. His jaw shifts as he pinches his lips together and worries them back and forth.

Jon is… not the kind of person who initiates or seeks out hugs. He always makes them too stiff, or he holds on just a bit too long and makes them awkward, or he doesn’t know what to do with his hands and ends up just dangling them uselessly in the air. He’s also never really seen the point of them if he’s being honest. As a form of greeting, surely handshakes or waves or head nods get the point across just fine. Right now, though, there is truly nothing in the world that Jon thinks would make him feel safer than having Martin’s arms around him.

Jon nods, then remembers that Martin can’t see him and whispers, in as composed a voice as he can muster: “Please.”

Step six: hug Martin Blackwood without falling apart completely.

Martin’s arms are soft and warm around him. His chest is flush with Jon’s, and he’s holding him so close that Jon is practically on Martin’s lap. All Jon can think is that it’s been so long since he’s been held by something not made of sawdust or plastic. He grips the back of Martin’s jumper with lotion-soft hands and cries tears that have been collecting for a month into the fabric as he buries his face in Martin’s neck. Martin’s hands rub large circles across Jon’s back, and he’s whispering gentle words into Jon’s ear. Things about safe and okay and time and here.

By the time Jon feels thoroughly wrung dry, his cheeks are sticky and his head is throbbing and he’s desperately in need of a glass of water. He takes a few deep breaths, then carefully extracts himself from Martin’s arms. Martin lets him go easily, though his hands remain resting lightly on Jon’s elbows as if he can’t bear to let him go completely.

Jon thinks he knows the feeling.

Martin’s eyes are still closed, and Jon is hit with such a swell of affection he can hardly breathe around it. “Y-you can open your eyes,” he says, a bit sheepishly. Martin does, and if he’s affected by the state of Jon’s face, he doesn’t show any indication of it. “Sorry,” Jon mumbles, twisting his ring—now on his left middle finger instead of his right—around and around mindlessly. “I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s elbows gently. “I understand. Any time you need me to look away, I will. Okay? I just…” He takes a breath. “I’ll always be here. F-for you when you need me.”

If Jon weren’t thoroughly out of tears, that would make his eyes water. Instead, he nods and offers a small, weak smile. “I know. Thank you, Martin. It… just. Thank you.”

Step seven: fall asleep safe against Martin’s side in the bed that he insists is big enough for two, face pressed into Martin’s neck once again and hands curled loosely in Martin’s sleep shirt.

He’s so drained by the time they’re there, so wrung-out and empty and relaxed, that he manages to do so almost immediately. He thinks he hears Martin murmur, “Sleep well, love,” as he drifts off. But it disappears into the fuzzy border between sleep and wakefulness, slipping from Jon’s mind entirely as he fades to black.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #willoftitanium #my fic #my writing

918 notes · View notes

24hlevi · 4 years ago

Text

Happy New Year

Seong Gi-Hun [456] (Squid Game) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: #2 “A and B slow dancing in the dark in their shared apartment.” + #8 “A proposes to B after 4 years of dating while fireworks go off behind them on new year’s.” + #1 “It’s new year’s and I wanted to give you this!” from fluff prompt list and fluff dialogue prompt list

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 1.1k

Gihun and you had been dating for 4 years now and truthfully, it had been the best years of your life. When you first met Gihun, he was in an immense amount of debt and tried to keep you away from that up until he randomly disappeared for a week and came back with cuts and was more depressed than ever before. But you helped him come out of that depression from his best friends dying right before his eyes and how guilty he was to have so much money all because he survived all the games when he should have died in the first one.

Today was New Year’s Day, and it was also you and Gihun’s 4 year anniversary which was a funny thought to think about the day he finally gathered enough courage to ask you out at a party when he was drunk out of his mind, not even expecting you to answer with yes but you did, and you ended up dating the man. Usually, you two would be at a friend’s party for this day but since it was a special occasion of how long you two had been dating, Gihun insisted that you two spend the night together instead of with other people that could ruin the whole day with just a few words.

Gihun had bought a couple of bottles of wine and champagne for when the timer hit zero and almost half of the wine was gone already, both of you sharing it and have been drinking it since dinner which Gihun had actually made for once.

You noticed that Gihun was acting different today, and not just because it was your 4 year anniversary, but because of something else, something that you couldn’t figure out just yet. First, Gihun had woken you up with breakfast and coffee in bed, something he would never do unless he made you mad the night before or he was going to tell you something important when neither of those happened, so you were confused. Then, he had taken you out to go shopping and grab lunch, another thing that he has never done before. By the time it was dinner you were starting to get worried as to what it could be that Gihun had been hiding this whole day, doing things he would never do on any normal day, not knowing what he could possibly say that could either make your night light up or burn down.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You were knocked out of your thoughts by hearing Gihun speak, and you looked over at him before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I was just thinking as to why you are doing all this tonight.”

“Ah, you know why. Because it’s our 4 year anniversary!” Gihun answered with a bright smile, taking a sip from the wine in the glass he had in his hand.

“I know that, but it’s more than usual. Are you planning something?” You asked the man sitting beside you on the balcony.

Letting out a chuckle, Gihun shook his head as he stood up, reaching his hand out towards you. “Come inside with me.”

You looked at him confused but when he didn’t move his hand away, you grabbed it with your own and let him lead you back inside the apartment to the living room.

He started to move the coffee table out of the way which made you even more confused before he connected his phone to the speaker and started to play slow music. He finished his wine and set the glass down on the coffee table and grabbed yours from your hand, setting it beside his as he then grabbed your hands.

“Gihun, what are you doing?” You questioned him.

“Let’s dance.” He replied, smiling at you still.

“You know we both can’t dance, right?” You laughed lightly.

“Yes, but let’s do it anyway.” Gihun said, moving your arms around his neck as his own moved to your waist and he began to sway back and forth.

It was a bit awkward at first, but after a few minutes you both were dancing with another without any other thoughts, just enjoying the close presence of the other and the moment that was currently happening.

“See? We’re doing well now.” Gihun said to you with a small chuckle at the end.

“Mhm.” You hummed, resting your head on his shoulder with a blush present on your face that you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

You two continued to slow dance, well, at least make an attempt at it, up until the tv announced that it was 2 minutes until a new year. Gihun pulled away from you and took a step back, his breathing suddenly changed to more shallow breaths as his look on his face changed into worry and anxiousness.

“Gi? What’s wrong?” You asked him, thinking something was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong!” Gihun answered quickly, reaching into his jacket pocket and taking out a small box. “Uhm. It’s New Year’s and I wanted to give you this!” He smiled at you, but not handing you the box yet.

“1 minute til a happy new year.”

Gihun then went down on one knee, taking a deep breath before opening the small box, revealing a beautiful silver, diamond embroidered engagement ring.

“30 seconds til a happy new year.”

“Y/n, we’ve been together for 4 years now, and we’ve known each other for much longer. These days that I’ve spent with you have been the best ones of my entire life and…I don’t want to lose that or you. So, Y/n. Will you marry me?”

“10 seconds til a happy new year.”

Tears had already welled up in your eyes as you nodded, not being able to even form words as Gihun’s entire face lit up and he stood again.

“5 seconds til a happy new year.”

“I love you so much.” He said to you.

“I love you too.” You repeated back to him, making him smile even more.

The male then held the sides of your face, gently caressing the skin of your cheek before pressing his lips against your own just as the timer hit zero, fireworks beginning to go off behind you as you both kissed.

Pulling away once the fireworks stopped, Gihun looked at you with the happiest expression you had ever seen on his face as he slid the ring on your finger.

“I promise that I’ll be a good husband to you. I promise.” He said to you quietly.

“I know you will, Gihun. You’ve been good to me all these years so far, so I know.” You responded at the same volume.

Gihun looked back at you and smiled before kissing you again, too happy to stop kissing you over and over again.

What a great way to start the new year with your new fiancé, and plenty of memories that will be created within these next years that you two will be together.

#squid game imagines #squid game scenarios #squid game hcs #squid game x reader #squid game #seong gi hun #seong gi hun x reader #gi hun imagines #gi hun scenarios #gi hun hcs #gi hun x reader #gi hun

192 notes · View notes

writing-imagines · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! can you do a Wanda x reader Fluff trope 11 (enemies to lovers) with angst 12 (arguing) make it a very strong arguing (maybe r be reckless on a mission) with a fluffy ending please! thanks, i love your writes💜

Hi! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy it!

Fluff trope 11- enemies to lovers

Angst 12- Arguing

Prompts from this list

“What were you thinking?! How could you do something so stupid?!” Wanda screamed at you, barely an inch from your face.

“I did what I thought was right and if you don’t agree with it, that’s your problem.”

“I don’t agree with you almost blowing our cover and getting yourself killed!”

“I was fine! They didn’t even suspect I was undercover until you barged in!” You snapped and threw your hands in the air.

“Oh really? You seriously think that? I wish you could have heard the things they were thinking. Then you wouldn’t be so sure of yourself.”

“You think you’re all high and mighty just because you can read minds and throw things with your mind, don’t you?”

“I could throw you through the wall. Maybe then you’d learn some respect.”

“I need to learn respect? Wanda-” You stopped and bit your lip. There was no use in continuing a fight you would obviously lose.

“You know what? I’m done.”

“What do you mean you’re done?” Wanda asked with a shocked expression.

“I’m done working with you guys. I’ll let Sam and Bucky know tomorrow morning.”

“You’re seriously leaving the group? We need you, y/n!”

“You may need me, but you certainly don’t want me.” Without another word, you grabbed your bag and stormed out of the base.

“Hey, why are you thinking about that?” Wanda’s voice snapped you back to reality. You were sitting on the couch together, arms tangled around each other with Wanda’s head on your shoulder.

“I don’t know. I guess my mind just wondered to it.” You moved your head slightly to get a better view of your wife. She looked up at you with her doe eyes before moving away so she could sit up straight.

“I’m sorry I was so terrible to you all those years ago. I should have just told you how I felt instead of being so rude.” Wanda’s hands found their way to your face and gently grazed your cheekbones.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I think it’s safe to say we’ve moved past it.” You said with a smile and gently moved your hand to rest on Wanda’s small bump. Wanda’s hands instinctively moved to rest on top of yours.

“What do you think our baby will be like?” She asked, looking down at the bump.

“I don’t know. I just want it to be happy and healthy and...” You trailed off, not wanting to offend your wife.

“And?”

“And I would really like it if it didn’t have your powers right away. Can you imagine dealing with a baby that could throw things through a wall?” Your answer made Wanda grin and shake her head.

“No, I can’t.”

Silence fell over the two of you, both of you lost in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but think about how wonderful of a mother Wanda would be. You could easily see her chasing your little one around the yard or singing them to sleep.

“You know what would be funny?” Wanda suddenly asked, breaking the silence in the home.

“What?”

“If we had twins.” The thought made you gasp and then laugh.

“If we have twins, I promise you I’ll end up on the hospital floor.”

“Hm, we’ll see about that.”

Sure enough, five months later, you found yourself on the hospital floor. It was wonderfully stressful enough to watch Wanda give birth to one baby, it was a whole new level of stress when the doctor proclaimed there was another baby on the way.

#blurbs #wanda maximoff #Wanda Maximoff x reader #Wanda Maximoff x female reader #Wanda Maximoff x male reader #wandavision

445 notes · View notes

goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 3 years ago

Text

Back to September

2. Horizon

Based on this prompt list

AO3

____________________________________________________

“There. Just above the horizon, you see that group of stars?”

She squinted, following the path of Luka’s pointed finger, a mass of solid darkness against the star-spangled sky. But she couldn’t make out the constellation he was telling her about. “No, I don’t think…”

“Here.” Her breath hitched in her throat at the way his breath tickled her ear. And suddenly, he was shifting. She could feel the warm weight of his arm wrapping around her. Somehow it was always so comforting and exhilarating at the same time; her heart never knew if it should stop or race faster. “Scooch over, closer to where I’m sitting,” he said softly as he gently tugged at her.

She was only too happy to oblige.

She slid closer to him.

Closer than was probably necessary.

But if he minded the way she was tucked into his side, with her legs almost in his lap, he didn’t mention it.

She certainly didn’t mind. Just like she didn’t mind the way his arm was still wrapped around her shoulders. Even if it was doing funny things to her heart.

He always did funny things to her heart.

“Better?”

She nodded wordlessly before remembering he wouldn't be able to see. "Yeah."

She sensed, more than saw, him turn his gaze back to the horizon as he began recounting myths of the constellations he was showing her as they appeared in the night sky. But she couldn’t pay attention. She was too transfixed by him.

It was so dark out, she could barely see him. Of course, that had been the whole point of their trip to the countryside; he had said there was no point in going stargazing in the city. They wouldn’t have been able to see the stars properly. But even though she could barely see him now, she could just make out the profile of his face. And even if she couldn’t… she had committed every detail of his face to memory. The shape of his nose and the depths of his eyes and the curve of his lips…

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force her traitorous heart to slow.

That wasn’t the kind of thing friends did.

He was her friend.

He didn’t…

“…and they were immortalized in the stars. Together forever. Pretty romantic, don’t you think?”

What?

“Oh- uh- yeah!” Her words came out shaky and unconvincing. She hadn’t exactly not been listening. But she hadn’t really been listening either…

“You do see them there, right?” he asked, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that his breath was on her face. He had turned to face her, and her breath caught in her throat. Again.

“I-“ her voice cracked. Or maybe squeaked. “I’m sorry I wasn’t really listening I got caught up in my thoughts, and I can’t really see them, but if you show me again I-“ her rambling words died the second his hand came up to cup her face.

“Marinette,” he chuckled softly, and she was melting inside. “It’s fine. I can start over. Or if you aren’t having fun, we can go back to the B&B-”

“No!” she yelped. She didn’t want to go home! She wanted to stay right here in his arms and-

She couldn’t really see his face. But she could sense his thoughtful frown in the air. “Something’s bugging you, Marinette. You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I…” how did she tell him she was dying inside, trying to keep herself from doing or saying something stupid?

“Hey,” he whispered so softly she completely froze. His hand was still cupping her cheek. And his thumb was drawing soothing little circles along her jawline. “It’s ok. If you’re not having fun, we don’t have to stay. I want you to enjoy this Marinette, I-“ he broke off with a sigh.

The night was so still around them. Everything was just silent. And still. Like the world was holding its breath alongside her.

“Luka?” she asked in a tiny, hesitant voice.

He let out something caught between a chuckle and a resigned sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I just, I had this idea of what this evening was going to look like… but I guess it isn’t really-“

“What did you think it was going to look like?”

Her question was met with silence.

And then.

“I thought we would have a beautiful drive out to the countryside, with everything changing colour and everything.” They had. The drive had been perfect. “I thought we would have a nice dinner somewhere.” They had. They had found the cutest little bistro in the village they were staying in. “And I thought after dinner, I would take you up here to show you the stars properly. Without all the light pollution.” He had. “And I would show you all my favourites and tell you all the myths and legends.” That’s what he had been doing. “And then I would show you all the stars that remind me of you.” He- what? “And I would tell you that I’ve liked- loved you for ages. And then I was going to ask you if I could kiss you and-“

Given she couldn’t see him, it had been a shot in the dark. But when his words were cut off in a muffled yelp that quickly turned to a sigh, she knew she hadn’t missed.

#endgame lukanette #pro lukamari #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #aged up characters #AU #back to september #writing prompt #monthly writing prompt

14 notes · View notes