#i hope you all had a cracking weekend 💕

[decidentia]

Young Kiriko in ‘The Boy and the Heron’ has unmistakable Mary energy.

[zorrasucia]

Congrats on 300💕 & thank you for your fics

Sooo many prompts that it’s hard to choose, but these spoke to me, but whatever inspires you most:)

Carmy x reader

❛ say you want me, and i’m yours. ❜

❛ you look like you were jealous. ❜

❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you. ❜

Hi, Anon! Thank you for reading 💜🥺

I chose ❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you❜ for a established relationship Carmy x Reader phone sex moment 😉 I hope you like it!

"Hey."

"Carmy," you replied sweetly. You had rushed to call him as soon as you read his text. are u awake? "Can't sleep?"

He let out a sigh. "Long day."

"Bad day?" you asked.

"Busy. And everyone was acting like a fucking asshole, even me. Especially me," he confessed. In the background you could hear the tattletale crack of aluminum foil and plastic as he popped some chewing gum.

"Trying to quit smoking again?"

"Always," he mumbled.

"Are you actually trying to quit for your palate and whatever or are you avoiding Richie?"

"What do you mean?" he replied a little defensively.

"Well, you usually talk with him during your smoke breaks. And... I don't know, he understands you. Maybe you don't want that right now," you guessed.

There was a long silence as Carmy took in what you said.

"How do you do that?" he asked abruptly.

"Do what?"

"See through all my bullshit," he explained. "I didn't even- I mean holidays are the worst and he'll definitely talk about Mikey at some point and how I didn't come home enough-" he paused. "I just don't want to feel like that again, you know?"

"Maybe talking with him can help," you said. "Maybe he feels like shit about it too. You both miss him, right?"

"Yeah..."

"You can't avoid him forever, Carm."

"I know," you heard him sigh. "Fuck, I miss you."

"Miss you too, baby," you replied softly, lying back on the bed of your childhood bedroom. "It's only a few more days."

"Are you having a nice time?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, it's, uh... Holidays with family are always a little weird, right?" you shrugged. "Got you a present, by the way."

"Yeah?" you could hear his smile.

"Yeah. Top secret," you giggled. "I also bought lingerie on discount - I don't know if that counts as a present for you or for me."

"Fuck," Carmy sighed again. "I already said I miss you. You don't need to say shit like that."

"There's a long weekend coming up," you appeased him. "We can make up for lost time."

"There's so many things I wanna do to you," he rasped.

"Yeah?" you tried to hide just how flustered his voice was making you. "What kind of things?"

"Fuck, baby..."

You could picture him laying on the couch, head over the armrest, blushing.

"Come on, I want to know," you encouraged him, you could only hear static for a little while. "It'll be fun. Like a wishlist but sexy," you teased. "I can touch myself while you tell me."

He coughed - you had taken him by surprise. You had surprised yourself too to be honest, but it was exciting and oddly liberating to only listen to him, the way his voice and breathing betrayed his emotions.

"You're going to kill me one of these days," he said after he recovered from his coughing fit.

"You don't sound too upset about it," you commented. You didn't pressure him - if he wanted to forget the whole thing, you'd let him.

He took a deep inhale. "I- uh- I wanna eat you out."

You let out a shaky exhale, a familiar warmth in your belly as you thought of Carmy between your legs.

"How?"

"I want you to sit on my face..." he said.

"Fuck, Carmy," you inhaled sharply, your free hand going into your underwear, touching your folds and finding them damp already. "I would love that. Fuck. Your tongue always feels so good on me."

"The way you taste. Fuck," he panted. Was he touching himself too? "I always end up with my face covered in you. My chin, my nose..."

"I love when your nose- Fuck, I think about it for days. Just your pretty nose making me shake and moan," it was so easy to tell him embarrassing truths when your fingers were playing with your clit, making you roll your eyes.

"Jesus," Carmy groaned. Oh, he was definitely touching himself. "I'll make you cum like that. I want your thighs shaking around my face. I want to hold you with both hands while you ride me, use me."

"Fuck," you moaned, your pussy clenching once around your middle finger, the heel of your hand pressing on your clit.

"What do you want, baby? What do you want to do to me?" there was an urgency to his voice. You liked him like that, a little needy.

"I want to touch your cock, make you feel good with my hands-" you said, putting a second finger inside you and moaning.

"Yeah," he was breathing heavily into the speaker.

"I want you to beg for it, Carm," you confessed. "I want to make you feel so fucking good and stop right before you cum. Just keep going until you can't take it anymore."

"Holy shit," he gasped. "And then? After I beg?"

You started fucking into your hand, writhing on the bedsheets.

"After you beg, I'll give it to you," you said simply, hearing as Carmy groaned lewdly. "Let you fuck me however you want, as hard as you want. You can cum as long as you cum inside me."

"Shiiiiit," he keened and the sound took you right over the edge, pussy fluttering around your fingers as he let out low grunts. You pictured him, face red and hair sweaty, eyes glazed and8 breathing heavy, ropes of cum painting his stomach. You sighed, feeling electricity all over, a gentle warmth caressing your skin.

"Fuck," Carmy exhaled on the other side of the line. "You meant that?"

"Yeah," you let out a nervous laugh. "You?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"I think we have our weekend planned out, then."

[mothdruid]

Hi my lovely abby! For your birthday blurb weekend celebration I’d like to request this storm prompt: ⋆ "come here, i'll keep you safe. swear." With Anakin please and thank you❤️❤️hope you have the best day and happiest birthday! Love and hugs💕

Safe

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x afab!reader

word count: 900

a/n: ps. sorry if there are any inaccuracies with my star wars lore. i haven't watched anything star wars related in years. my love for anakin only recently resurfaced

A shudder ran through you as you listened to the unrelenting storm outside. The rain was pounding down outside, thunder clapping frequently with lighting following shortly after. It was making it hard to sleep. Each loud clap of thunder was frightening you back awake. Every shock of lightning illuminated your room.

Kamino was nothing but an endless ocean. As someone who grew up on Mandalore, it was hard to be okay with this watery landscape they called a planet. Especially with how severe the storms were. You had had the occasional storm on Mandalore growing up, but nothing like this. You were surprised the buildings were still standing above what.

Being sent here felt almost like a punishment. You knew it was necessary, but hell. The only thing making it better was the people you had been sent there with. Obi-wan had been the one to ask for you, which apparently Anakin encouraged. When Ahsoka said that you couldn't help the flutter in your chest.

You weren't sure what it was, but there was just something about Anakin that made your heart beat a little faster. The two of you had been on one assignment together. That was the beginning of it all, and now you could barely get him out of your mind.

Ever since the storm had started you wondered if he was like you. If he was staring at the ceiling, hoping for some calm. Or if he was fast asleep, the storm barely even noticeable. You closed your eyes, mind wandering to more thoughts of Anakin. Just as your mind was wondering if he was in his normal sleep ware. His broad chest cover by nothing, only a loose fitting pair of black pants on his waist.

Boom! Crack!

You sat up that time, chest rising and falling quickly. You dug your nails into your palms. Tightness tugged at all of your muscles. You needed to do something else besides just laying there. Without another thought you got up and headed to grab your robe.

After putting your robe on, you opened your door and moved into the hallway. At least in the hallway the storm didn't sound as loud. You didn't have a plan in mind. At this point, if you needed to walk around the halls all night to feel better you would. So, that's what you did.

The halls were empty, except for the occasional guard. Your foot steps were being drowned out by the sound of the storm outside. Hell, your thoughts were starting to become drowned out by the noise. You were starting to wonder how any of these guards were staying focus with all of the noise.

While lost in thought you rounded the corner of the hall, hoping to continue walking. Instead you were met with another body. The two of you bumped into each other, obvious that neither of you were really paying attention. Strong hands steadied you, keeping you up straight as you regained your balance.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," you started apologizing immediately, ready to start hear some guard yell at you. It never came though.

"Hey, it's okay," a familiar voice said.

Everything started clicking into place in your mind. The strong hands and chest, soft yet firm voice. You had slammed directly into the man who had been plaguing your thoughts all night so far.

"Anakin, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you apologized again.

"Like I said, it's okay," a soft smile was on his lips. "What's got you up this late anyway?"

"Oh, I just am having a hard time sleeping," you tugged the front of your robe around you a little more.

Anakin was exactly as you had imagined him. Black robe, black pants, no shirt. Tonight really just wasn't your night. First the storm and now him.

"Is there any particular thing keeping you up?" His tone had a bit of concern to it, something that wasn't too common for him.

"Oh no, not real-"

As if the storm knew what you were about to say, a loud boom of thunder clapped outside. You tilted your head inward, drawing away from the loud sound as your body tensed. Anakin's hand on your arm tightened a little bit, as if he was still trying to keep you up right. Lightning flashed and leaked in through the windows of the hallway.

"I don't like the storm either," he whispered reassuringly.

"I'm just not used to them like this," you started, "not with the water and everything. It makes me worried."

"Worried?"

"Yeah, like what if it gets too bad and something happens?" The nerves were making your voice shake a little.

"Come here, I'll keep you safe. Swear."

Without warning, Anakin's arms slipped around you and pulled you into him. The soft skin of his broad chest was pressed against your cheek now. You let your arms wrap around him, holding him in a similar embrace that he had you in.

The two of you sat there like that long enough for another loud boom of thunder to occur. That time when you tensed Anakin was there, arms wrapped tightly around you and holding you close. His embrace almost made you forget about the storm, the loud noise being the only thing reminding you now. Even the lightning had ceased to exist with face nestled into his chest. For the rest on the night the storm didn't bother you.

thank you so so much for asking for my boy ani!!! i really hope you enjoy this fluffy blurb<3

don't forget to send blurbs in for my birthday event!

birthday blurb weekend!

[writingsbymo-mo]

Debt Repaid

Bonten!Sanzu x F!Reader

Rating: mature

Contains: past abuse, abusive parents (past), violence, guns, blood, minor character death, depression, some comfort, some angst

Summary: You recently got fired from one of your jobs, you're short on rent, and now you're being kicked out? What the hell went wrong? Or, what the hell went right?

Note: reader is addressed with she/her pronouns when being referred to...and Sanzu might be a tad ooc at times 😅

Hope you enjoy 💕 @shoyo-ryoko

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*knock* *knock* *knock*

"Hey 207, you better pay up, or you'll be kicked by the end of the week!" Your landlord screamed from behind the door to your apartment.

With a shaky breath, you opened the door, attempting to conceal the tremnling in your body and voice. "I-I'm sorry sir...but I'm a hundred short..." You flinched as he slammed his fist against the doorframe. "Goddamn it. You fucking can't even get that much? Stupid bitch, I even delayed your payment a week!"

You shrank in on yourself, looking at the floor as tears spilled from your eyes. You couldn't help that you got fired from your better paying job. All those customer interactions spiraled into episodes of dread that engulfed your entire being, wanting nothing more than to escape. They'd sneer at your failures, your weaknesses, or at least that's what your mind perceived. And one day, you just couldn't take it anymore.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You stayed in your apartment, never leaving your bed unless the bathroom was calling you. You couldn't bring yourself to eat either. The churning hunger pains brought nausea upon you. A day later, you heard a knock on your door. You stared over to the window by the entrance with your eyes cracked, silently pleading for whomever was there would give up and leave. You didn't want anyone to see you like this.

"Please...go away..." You croaked.

The door unlocked and slammed open. You covered your eyes, blinded by the rays from the afternoon sun. "Ah—"

"Princess?"

You knew that voice. "H-Haru..."

The floor creaked as he made his way to your room, kneeling down beside your bed. He grasped your hands, pulling them away from your face. "W-wait Haru!" But you had no strength to stop him. He sighed the moment he saw your bloodshot eyes and dark circles surrounding them. You weren't sleeping well if at all some days.

You squeezed your eyes shut, body trembling in his soft grasp. "Please...don't look at me..." Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes once more. The dread of him seeing you at your lowest hit you like a ton of bricks. You wanted to run away right then. Your heart pounded in your chest.

"Shhh, it's alright, darling," he leaned down, tenderly kissing your hot tears away. "Just breathe with me." And you did. Deep inhales and exhales, shaky to smooth as you relaxed under his touch. He removed your covers and slid his hands underneath you, picking you up with ease. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'll get us some cheesecake."

"O-ok."

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

"I'm sick of your shit 207. Can't make even another hundred more in a week? Ha! Better not see your ass here in the morning, you pathetic piece of shit. Oh, and all your things left behind are now mine. Think of it as paying me for what you owe, ha-haaaa!"

The disgusting laugh of his tapered off as you slid against the door. "W-where did I go wrong....why am I like this?"

Where would you go? You were kicked out of the house the day you started dating Haru all those years ago. Your parents couldn't believe their precious daughter would date a delinquent, let alone one who had a record like his.

Your parents were gone for the weekend or that's what they told you anyway. You stayed out all night with Haruchiyo, traveling the streets of Tokyo on his bike and having the time of your lives. Any day like this could beat when you had to be the perfect daughter day in and day out.

You have to be number one! If you don't, you'll be sorry.

The nonstop pressure, the amount of times they'd punish you for a wrong answer, the times they wouldn't even bother addressing you whenever your grades kept falling. All they cared about was your abilities to do well in school.

They never bothered asking how you were doing, Haru did.

They never bothered to spend time with you, Haru did.

They never even knew you were dating until you were caught by some people your dad worked with....didn't help with all the hickeys on your collarbone that peeked from under your shirt.

"How dare you! HOW DARE YOU RUIN THIS FAMILY!"

*SLAP*

You collapsed on the ground from the impact, touching your angry red, stinging cheek.

"Fucking a delinquent? Have you gone MAD?!! Swear if my coworkers hadn't caught you sleazing around with that...that—"

"But dad I—"

"SHUT IT! You're no daughter of mine...not anymore..."

"W-wait...dad no...NO!" You screamed, bawling with tears falling from your eyes. He yanked you by the back of your shirt collar, dragging you towards the front door with ease. "If you want to be a delinquent's girlfriend, then fine! I'll just treat you like you are, trash!" He threw you out the door. Your back collided against the concrete wall so hard you coughed out a pained gasp upon impact. "Don't ever think to show your face here again!" He growled and slammed the door shut.

You didn't know what to think. You didn't know what to say about this. All you were was a shell of pain. You brought your knees into yourself, burying your face into them as you continued to let the tears fall. "H-Haru..."

The front door opened so quietly that you didn't even hear it over the noise in your mind. You looked up the moment a hand tapped your shoulder. There stood your mother, eyes bloodshot with tears. She sniffed, "I'm sorry...take this." She handed you a suitcase full of your clothes, necessities, and some of your other things along with a stack of cash. "It's not much, but it's the least I could do. Take care of yourself, ok?"

That was the last time you ever saw them. And for once in your life, you were happy...for a little while. When Haruchiyo found out about you being kicked out, he was pissed. He would've stormed over there to kill your parents if you hadn't held him so tightly, pleading for him to stop. You were one of the very few people he held dearly to him and the few he would listen to. He did make the offer for you to stay with him, however, you were already moving into an apartment. On your low days, you wondered how different it would've been to live with him instead.

Much changed over time. You dropped out of school and took on a few jobs to pay rent. You were still dating Haruchiyo, however it was getting harder to see him within the last few years. He mentioned something about being in a top position and taking trips more frequently. You were thankful for all the times he'd helped you through the tears, your ups and downs, the times you couldn't lift a finger. No matter, he would always help you whenever he could.

And now, you were on the run again. You packed as much as you could and left your old apartment in the middle of the night. "Fuck you, shitty landlord..." You dragged your things with you for quite a distance when it began to rain. As fast as your feet could take you, you hid under the awning of a shrine nearby. Your body shivered, completely drenched. You hid inside to change into something dry and made a place for you to sleep. "I'll call you in the morning Haru...just want to sleep..."

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*SLAM*

"WHERE IS SHE, HYUGA?!!"

"I-I swear, I-I don't know! She just turned her keys in the dropbox and left!" Hyuga, your old landlord cried, coughing up blood. He was battered and bruised, lips split and bleeding, staining his crisp white shirt. "She didn't make rent this month, I had to do something to pay it off!"

Sanzu yanked him by the collar, glaring daggers into his very soul as he was brought to his eye level. "So, you thought you could make off with selling my darling's possessions to make a quick buck? Disgusting," he growled.

Hyuga grasped at Sanzu's hands, gasping for a breath. "I-I swear I didn't know she was one of Bonten's—" He gasped for air as he was thrown against the desk. Stacks of paper scattered everywhere when a reverberating click pierced the room into silence. Sanzu held his gun pointed directly between Hyuga's brow as he ran his other hand through his pink locks with a crazed expression. "Consider your debt paid off, scum of the earth!" He laughed hysterically as shots fired into the man's skull, blood splattering the walls and desk behind him. He sighed with a smile when the work was done. He cleaned his hands and pulled out his burner phone. "Send someone to my location for a cleanup and find someone he's close to we can drop this dept on. What do you mean why did I kill him?! Ah fuck you too Koko!" *click*

"Now, where did you go, princess?"

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

A couple hours later, you woke up to a set of warm arms wrapped around you with a familiar sweet musk. You cracked your eyes open. "H-Haru?"

"Shhhh, I'm taking you to my place, just rest," he whispered, smiling softly at him. You reached his towards his face, tracing the outline of his scar on the left side. "I don't want to burden you—"

"Don't! You're not a burden. You never were, princess."

You sighed, letting yourself relax in his hold, baggage and all. "You're always there to save me," you nuzzled into his chest, "please take care of me."

"I will, darling. I will."

And just like he promised, he took care of you through thick and thin. You wouldn't have asked for anything else.

[annieqattheperipheral]

tw: grieving

I keep getting waves of omg he's really gone. Like really really. We know there are going to be a lot of pregame tributes but like how you gonna do that and then expect anyone to do their jobs after without the entire arena from fans to teams to staff erupting in tears, times 32 rinks across the continent and probably flames and cbj's ahl teams and other teams too. agh. Grieving is so much. I'm glad we have our supports here with each other. Whenever i need to let something out i might post here (always tagging so you can step away, filter if you ever need to knowing what you can or can't handle that day).

It's important to me that i try to grieve as healthily as possible. When my best friend/cousin passed 3yrs ago (not covid) my unhealthy family was and is not open (stigma? suicide? accidental od? medical issue?) and made it impossible for me to mourn her properly ("don't cry. pray." and other such unhelpful advice and actions). So then when another friend passed 7 months later (not covid) i leaned hard on her family's wonderful family and friends to finally process. They were so open with what happened, how they were feeling, and completely welcomed me into every stage of mourning and then celebrating her life. It was transformational to experience a family like that.

And so when johnny and matty's spouses each posted about their husbands this weekend.. i was amazed. And happy. I mean as i could be. Because it meant that they were being taken care of, they were supported so well they had no inclination of going inward and isolating. (I mean i withdrew so hard after i hit so many blocks with my family. I didn't post until a month later, informing so many ppl in my life.) Instead the gaudreaus were so open and sharing and that filled me with so much awe of the love and care within their family. Johnny and matty were so . well . loved.

Matthew Tkachuk is one of the few players i keep notif on for and he was the one i learned the news from and every time he posts he proves yet again how incredible his family is, that he is being taken care of as well. That's a guy who has let us into his grief and i can't thank him and other players posting enough, that it's not radio silence. That we're sharing in this pain. Incredibly grateful.

I still struggle a lot and I'm certainly not who i was before i lost two important ppl in my life, exactly my age, far too young, ppl i grew up with and was supposed to grow old with. but i am progressing thanks to therapy and finally getting antidepressants and then finding the correct dosage-- depression i really should've had diagnosed and treated very very long ago.

I'm not great and most days i cannot try at all so i exist. And these hockey dumdums of ours, they crack me up. They're rly so very very ridiculous. how do they do it. Feral children on the ice, ludicrous weirdos off the ice. Anyhow thanks for listening I'm feeling light after writing this all out. I hope if you need to, you feel this space is for you as well💕

[hughiecampbelle]

Summer Storm (Roman Roy Oneshot)

Characters: Roman

Word Count: 1,228

Requested: Roman interrupting a baking/cooking session but he’s like completely clueless? - anon

Requested: could you do spending a lazy weekend being fluffy spent with Roman Roy pls??💕💕 - anon

Tag List: @locke-writes

A/N: I decided to combine these requests, I hope you don't mind!!! This fic is currently inspired by the thunderstorm happening rn lol. I love Soft Roman. I love him, I love him, I love him. I hit a bit of a writers block getting this done, so I'm sorry if it isn't my best!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

The thunder rolls in like the tide. You watch the bright sky darken, the clouds pooling in. The heat, the humidity, the thick, sticky air becomes electric. You hear it first, the tantrum. The growling, low and angry. So angry. So breathless. Don't you scare him, you thought, watching the storm. He never liked them. You don't have to say a thing, though he knows. Drink in hand, he pushes your float towards the steps of the pool. The water is warm, not like it was when you first got in. You drag your fingers all the way there, hands pruned, skin burning from the long day in the pool. His sunglasses are big, covering those puppy dog eyes. He holds it in place as you step out, thanking him with a kiss. Don't be here long. You look up from him, his small frame, his red cheeks, to the sudden wind. Strong, passionate, prickling your skin. Suddenly it had gotten cold. Dark. Even in the city you can smell the Earth, the wet soil, the soaking leaves of home. From far away. You stood there a second, on the edge, dripping, letting him take you in. He wasn't the type to look you up and down. Your relationship wasn't like that. There was love outside of your bodies. Now though, something must've caught his attention. Something about you, smelling of chlorine and sunscreen. What are you staring at? You ask, smiling despite your shaking. You're freezing. You're awfully full of yourself, he defends, sipping his drink. You know, even as you turn around, grabbing a towel, he's watching. He can’t take his eyes off you. 

The rain pours in sheets. The sky opens like an open wound without a tourniquet. Patting against the windows, leaving tiny handprints, the rain is angry, defensive, falling with all their mite. He left the glass door open, the smell intoxicating. Clean. Fresh. Stormy. The rain patters down the streets, the empty sidewalks, against the rooftop. Cars below honk their horns, everyone forgetting how to drive in the rain. Their tires plunge through the puddles. You stir the vegetables in the pan, watching the lightning flicker. Flashes so fast you question if they're even real. Ooooh spooky! He laughs, pouring you a glass of wine. He comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder. Are you scared of a little lightning? Watch out, it's got a knife! You take the stem of the glass, taking it in. A white wine, summery. Chilled. Distracted, he takes his chance, slipping the spatula from your grasp. Do you even know what you’re doing? You laugh. This isn’t rocket science, I hate to break it to you. But the asparagus is beginning to burn. Outside the sky cracks like shattered glass. Low, moaning, the wind blowing through the apartment. The curtains blow violently, dramatic. Beads of rain are beginning to come in. Neither of you make any moves to shut it. There is something too familiar, too nostalgic, about thunderstorms. About this thunderstorm, as if you have lived a million lifetimes together, the three of you. There is safety in this idea. Security. 

You take a step back, leaving your back against the counter, taking him all in. He’d taken a shower after the pool, his hair still wet. His stubble was shorter, but never gone. His soap, yours, a vanilla scent, mahogany, woodsy. Warm, inviting, opposite the character he forgets he’s playing. He moves through the wound so uncomfortable, as if existence is agonizing, excruciating. He can’t keep still. He nurses his own drink, his tumbler reeking of gasoline. He stirs lightly, as if afraid to bother, to be a nuisance. The oven timer dings and he turns it off, leaving the rest of dinner in the warmth. You resist the urge to wrap your arms around him, to hold him tight and never let him go. But you don’t, because you know he will jump at your touch, any touch, without warning. And it will ruin it. It will ruin everything. So you watch and want. You want him. You want him to feel full and safe and satisfied. You want to wrap him up and never let him go, never let anyone near him again. There are things in this world too precious for mankind. They get used and abused and ruined all because they are beautiful, because they are something otherworldly. He is one of those things. Your Romulus. Your Roman. 

Need any help? You ask, already reaching for the oven mitts. The rain has lightened to a steady downpour. The thunder growing fainter. The lightning is as bright as ever. Sometimes it regains its strength, the storm, and it will throw a punch you have not yet braced yourself for. Your vital organs go unprotected. Your teeth sprawl out across the floor. Sometimes it makes him jump, catches him off guard. He is frozen for a moment, before your hand reaches his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Do you need any help? You ask again, nudging him out of the way. He does not object. It is his time to observe you. You reach in, grabbing the pans, leaving them on the stovetop to cool off. The apartment fills with blinding light, just for a few seconds. Maybe less. You both take another sip. It’s his favorite meal. Your favorite to cook. Easy enough, anyways. The breeze cools your back, your neck, your cheeks. You watch the goosebumps on his arms. Want me to close it? The sliding glass door. No, no- you, you like it. No. He shakes his head. He should be drinking water, you think, he’s spent all day in the sun. But you don’t push it, not now. Later you’ll hand him a glass and watch him drink. He’ll be so full of sarcasm, of quips and jokes and anecdotes, but you will get your way.

  He gets two plates for you, handing you one. You know, if it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t even have any vegetables. You give him a fork and knife. Oh yes, where are my manners? Thank you Roman Roy for this delicious meal. Where would I be without you? You kiss his cheek, making him smile. He shrugs. Probably dead in a ditch, I don’t know. You laugh. Fuck off! You sit at the kitchen island across from him, glancing at him. What? What are you looking at? He asks, chewing. Can’t I look at my boyfriend? You finish your glass, meeting his eyes. No, actually you can’t. It’s illegal. You’re under arrest. You get closer to him, leaning in. Do I get parole? Mmmm no. Who’s my lawyer? Tom. Fuck you! Despite himself, you catch him grin. You’re tired. The sun took everything out of you. What you want is to leave dinner, leave the dishes, crawl into bed beside him where you can listen to the rain all night and fall asleep. You don’t want the day to be over though. It was too good to be true. Even the storm, even the rain could not ruin it. Whatever quiet time you had together lounging in the pool, cooking dinner, whatever peace you created was enough. More than enough. It was wonderful, it was everything you wanted. Who gets to be the judge? Greg. Are you kidding me? Nope.

[andromeda4004]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @carry-the-sky, thank you!

How many works do you have on ao3?

7 (8 by the weekend!)

What's your total ao3 word count?

276,499

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Good Omens at this point, not that I don't enjoy others. But the more I give myself permission to write for fandoms, the less likely I am to ever get around to finishing off my own OCs' story.

Top five fics by kudos:

Morningstar Abbey (Regency AU, T rated, 116K)

Mission: Ineffable (spy action AU, M rated, 25K)

Vaster than Empires (non-angsty S3, E rated, 5K)

The Serpent of the Loch (historical crack, T rated, 8K)

Antoinette (1920s wives AU, T rated, 118K)

Do you respond to comments?

As much as possible, although it does sometimes take me a while. I prefer to do them at my laptop than on my phone (typing is quicker) so sometimes I catch them up in a batch.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be The Truth I cannot Speak, a post-1827 Edinburgh diary entry from Aziraphale where he reflects on all the things he cannot tell Crowley, and might not ever get the chance to now. That one has poetry!

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I do tend towards the happy ending for preference, but I guess Morningstar Abbey would be happiest, since it ends drinking wine in the garden the day after the wedding 💕

Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, I haven't.

Do you write smut?

I do now! Vaster than Empires was the first E rated fic I've shared, and I have a new one coming out this weekend for the High Pollen Count sex pollen event.

Craziest crossover:

Mission: Impossible, probably! Although that's not a crossover, it's a human AU. I haven't written a classic crossover yet, and I don't know that I will, it's not quite my style.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, and I've only been doing this just over a year, so seems unlikely.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, but one lives in hope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I would love to! I do like beta reading and providing some collaborative suggestions when people are looking for them, so I suspect I'd enjoy formally co-writing something with an author I clicked with.

All time favorite ship?

It's got to be the Ineffable Husbands/Wives/Partners. The ship that keeps on giving!

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I try to focus as much as possible when writing, to avoid having too many half-done works at once, so I don't have any WIPs which are languishing at the moment. Except for my original work, but that will get finished, just quite slowly!

What are your writing strengths?

Plots and dialogue. I like to tell a story, a whole thing, with lots of developed characters and psychology and subplots, which leads me to the weakness...

What are your writing weaknesses?

Stopping! All my fics end up longer than I was hoping because I can't stop writing them! And on the smaller scale, simple things like working out where to stop a scene, I just can't do it! Rather, I can because I've worked at it, but it has been effort to get better at this.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it. I'm fluently bilingual, and have basic functional language skills in two or three more (or I do with a bit of warm-up!), but verbal is not the same as written, so I do try to get a native speaker to beta anything more than a word or two.

First fandom you wrote in?

In the beginning... the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

Yep, first fandom I remember writing things for was H2G2, back in the 90s when everything was on paper. Although I have been in fanclubs since Discworld as a teenager and further back I think Redwall as a kid?

Favorite fic you've written?

No, don't make me pick! They're all lovely! Although probably Mission: Ineffable, because I'm currently enjoying revisiting that AU to work on a sequel.

tagging! (no pressure!): @afrenchwriter @sabotage-on-mercury @suavissimapenna @hotcrosspigeon @homemadeapplecider @voluptatiscausa and anyone else who sees this and wants to play :)

[strandnreyes]

For the prompts…

How about columbine, red or butterfly weed?

Always love your writing and your take on Tarlos!💕

Butterfly weed - Break-ups, in between, and reunions

“Surprise! It’s ours!”

TK’s eyes stop scanning the loft, flicking back to Carlos with even more confusion. “Carlos… I thought they weren’t renting. Did they change their mind?” TK asks, a small flicker of hope gracing his face. 

Carlos can’t wait to watch that hope build into something more concrete when he tells him that they don’t just get to live here lease by lease, but that it’s their home. 

“No,” Carlos says quickly, but before TK’s face falls too much, Carlos is stepping forward and grabbing his hands. “No, I mean we own it. It’s ours.”

TK’s hands slip free, the first crack in the glass. “Own it?” he asks, the word sounding sour coming out of his mouth. Like nothing is ever his to own or his to keep. 

But Carlos can fix that because this is something he gets to keep. They are. “Yes. I saw how much you liked it and,” he shrugs, “I went back and made an offer and they accepted. It’s ours.” 

TK’s light dims further, so much so that Carlos can’t believe he looked hopeful just a minute ago. “You bought it without telling me,” TK says slowly, sounding hollow. “Carlos… I can’t afford this.” 

Panic sets it, but this isn’t irreparable. “It’s okay, you can—” 

“No,” TK says louder, the word reverberating around the bare walls until it nestles its way into Carlos’ heart and now the illusion of a future here isn’t the only thing that’s breaking. “I didn’t want this,” he spits, like it’s something vile. 

“You—” Carlos scrambles. He can fix this. He can fix this. “Baby, it’s okay. It’s fine. If you don’t like the place then we can—”

“No, you don’t get it, Carlos!” he shouts, the tone scaring both of them until they’re standing shell shocked in what’s supposed to be the living room. TK’s eyes are frantic and wild in a way Carlos hasn’t seen in years until they shut down entirely. He shakes his head, his breath uneven and choppy. “You don’t get it,” he whispers, and the whole thing shatters. 

Whatever revelation TK had isn’t something he shares with Carlos. All Carlos gets is TK’s retreating form as he remains frozen in place.

 ***

The clank of the keys dropping into the bowl echoes around the loft. As does the slide of the door and the drop of Carlos’ boots into their spot with nothing else here to drown the sounds out.

He takes his work bag directly to the bedroom, a place where everything almost feels normal until he remembers that half of the dresser is empty and only one side of the bed ever gets used. The bag methodically gets emptied and then refilled, ready and waiting for another day of the same. Carlos no longer ends the night thinking maybe tomorrow will be the day that TK reaches out, that he comes back. 

In the kitchen, Carlos pulls a glass container out of the fridge, staring blankly at the walls as he waits for it to reheat on the stove. Meal prepping on Sundays keeps him from thinking about how he used to spend weekends off, but the trade off is coming home from work and having nothing but time to think. 

The soup bubbles, he turns off the burner, and pours it into a bowl. He sits at the right corner of the table, his unofficially assigned seat. There are five other chairs. None of them have ever been occupied. 

His phone chimes across the room. He’s already thinking of an excuse to give Nancy on why he can’t come to the hang, or one for his dad on how the loft isn’t ready for him to stop by when he’s in the neighborhood, or to his mom on how the private sector keep TK too busy to come to Tia Lucy’s on Sunday. 

The bowl is empty, he barely remembers eating it. Cooking for one and eating alone isn’t new to him, but that was before he knew what it was like to share a meal with someone he loves every night. 

The single bowl and the single spoon sit in the drying rack when they’re clean, haunting Carlos as he wipes down the counters. The large couch feels like it swallows him whole when he sits down, but it’s one they picked out together. He feels foolish for wanting this place to have things TK likes for when it eventually becomes his home too. 

The news shows footage of a five-alarm fire downtown. Carlos watches the flames lick at the screen until a firefighter from station 114 hooks up the hose. TK doesn’t even wear that uniform anymore, but still he turns the TV off again. Carlos saw TK in his bright blue Paragon uniform today, but TK didn't see him. Or maybe he purposefully avoided looking. Carlos wishes he could convince himself to do that too. 

It’s not late, but exhaustion seeps into Carlos’ bones. It carries him through his nightly routine until the silence in the loft is as deafening as ever as he lays in bed. 

When sleep comes, he dreams that TK is beside him. 

 ***

Carlos wakes up alone. 

At first, he doesn’t think anything of it. He’s grown used to it at this point. But then he remembers the events of the past week—TK waking up, calling him baby, moving in here and putting both of them back together again—and Carlos’ heart stops. 

He’s had dreams of TK before and his feet are hitting the cold floor before he can think twice to ensure himself that this wasn’t one of those dreams. Before he can get to the bedroom door, he hears it, hears him. Just louder than the birds outside and the rush of morning traffic comes the sound of something sizzling in the kitchen accompanied by the whistling of a tune Carlos can’t make out from here. 

It calls to him like a siren, forcing him to push open the bedroom door to see the rest of the scene. As predicted, TK is standing at the stove as he flips an omelet. Unaware that he has an audience, he winces, jamming the spatula back into the pan until he gets the eggs to lay in the shape he wants like Carlos has seen him do multiple times before. 

Carlos never minds that his breakfast isn’t perfectly plated even though TK always delivers it with an apology that it doesn’t look as pretty as Carlos’ would. 

Unable to be away from him for another minute, Carlos’ feet are carrying him across the loft. He doesn’t get all the way there before TK is looking up with a small pout and bright eyes, but Carlos doesn’t sway from his original plan. He steps up behind TK, wrapping him tight in his arms and inhaling deeply. 

“You were supposed to still be in bed,” TK complains, sinking into his embrace. 

“So were you.” 

TK shrugs, gesturing before him. “I wanted to make you breakfast.” 

“You didn’t need to do that,” Carlos tells him. TK being here, being alive, is all he could’ve asked for. 

“I wanted to do it as a thank you,” TK continues and Carlos is already shaking his head, but TK doesn’t let him interrupt. “For giving me a place to come home to. A place that’s ours.” 

Carlos burrows in close, pressing his nose to TK’s neck as his eyes slip shut. This time when TK says that, ours, it’s as if he finally believes it’s something he gets to keep. 

“Always.” 

[always-andromeda]

Okay. Meda I’m sorry. This is going to be verrrrry vague. But I want to read something you write about TLOU because you love it so much and I wasn’t sure how many requests you’d get for it for this event, so here’s one!! This’ll be your wild card for any TLOU character + any of those prompts you want 🃏💕 (or you can do a number randomizer and have it pick for you) Go craaaaazy with it!! -🌟

– 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐨

𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so. I went with White Chocolate Truffle (a fluff blurb) for Joel. and if we're going self indulgent, I figured I'd go all out on it. strap in friends, prepare for a reader that might as well be me and yes the title references a song from Waitress because my lovely Sophia said it reminded her of me and goddamnit it made me so soft. so really, this isn't my fault if we all think about it. 😌

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pre-outbreak Joel, 100% self indulgent fluff, nothing else I can think of!

"Where did these come from?" Joel found himself staring at a Tupperware container full of muffins, the tops all golden and speckled with various mix-ins.

Sarah, with a knowing glint in her hazel eyes, giggled, "Who do you think?"

Joel sighed before picking up what looked like a blueberry one and taking a bite out of the top. The crumb was perfectly moist, the tart blueberries evenly distributed, and he savored the light but buttery taste. He almost hated to admit it, but you'd done it again. You'd managed to make a batch of something that he'd inevitably crave every single morning with his black coffee.

The voice of his daughter brought him back. "When are you gonna marry her already?"

Joel nearly choked on the muffin. "Marry?"

"Yeah, then she can make us cakes and cookies every single day," she said like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Not exactly an ideal reason to get hitched, is it?"

"Well, there's that...and hey– new mom! That could be a perk," she joked.

"Don't hold your breath on it, babygirl," Joel chuckled.

For the rest of the week he thought about the gesture, as he did practically every week now. Like clockwork, you worked on some new recipe of yours every weekend. Then come Monday morning at the crack of dawn, you waltzed over from next-door, a batch of some sort of baked good in your arms. Finally, you would tell Joel that you hope he has a good week. And that you hoped that by the end of the week when he returned the Tupperware container, he'd let you know what he and Sarah thought about the food.

It had been months of this schedule. Of course it was just an act of kindness; just something you did when you moved into the neighborhood in order to make friends. But as soon as Sarah's suggestion entered his head, he couldn't let go of it. And, he realized...it wasn't like you were baking cookies for everyone in the neighborhood. No, you'd chosen to take time out of your life to feed the single father and his bubbly daughter from next-door.

And Joel – as silly as it felt – liked being special. A part of him liked knowing that the whole week, you were just waiting to hear what he thought about something you'd spent so much time on. It was small but it was nice being thought of in such a way.

Between Joel's midnight snacks, Tommy flitting in and out of the house to raid the fridge, and Sarah's school lunches, by the time Friday rolled around, all that remained of the muffins in that Tupperware container were crumbs.

So, after Sarah turned in for the night, Joel grabbed the container from the kitchen counter and made his way to your house next-door. After knocking on the door you invited him inside. Taking the Tupperware container from Joel, you stared at him eagerly.

"So, what did you think about the muffins?"

"Great," he said quickly. "They were great."

"That's all you have to say?" you asked.

Almost immediately, Joel became hesitant, not quite knowing what else to say. So he laughed sheepishly and added, "Well, I've long since abandoned my diet, if that helps at all."

Thankfully, you returned the joke with a giggle of your own, "Sorry."

"Oh, don't be." There was a beat of silence as you looked at each other. Joel's voice softened as he wondered, "You must be spending a fortune on sugar, butter, and flour to keep me fed. So why do it?"

"Am I not allowed to take care of my neighbor?" you shook your head, confused at his line of questioning.

"Depends on what kind of taking care of you mean." Joel's eyebrows lowered, indicating just what he meant.

You stepped towards him. "I want to take care of you the way one would care for someone...special."

Joel's gaze flickered to your lips, "Oh, I'm suddenly special, huh," he murmured, relishing in just how right he was.

You stood on your toes and placed a hand on his firm shoulder, permeating his personal bubble in a way that he wasn't opposed to. You were so close that you could smell the stale scent of sweat from his job. All he could smell was sweetness; vanilla extract, mixed with notes of brown butter and baking powder. And your tone is just as sweet when you reply breathily, "Joel, you've always been special to me," before dotting a chaste kiss on his cheek. Your lips are warm and soft, seemingly freshly baked like one of your treats.

Unusually but still unsurprisingly, the small action lights his face on fire. And almost as if he's high off the bakery fumes, Joel found himself leaning down. His eyes started to flutter closed and–

Then came that wretched vibration from his pocket. Joel pulled his cell phone from his pocket and without checking the number on the display, he answered annoyed, "What?"

"Where are you?" Sarah whined on the other end.

Joel stumbled for an answer, "I-I-I'm...out."

"Oh, great. While you're out can you grab me some tampons? My period just started aaaaand...I kind of need some."

Perfect timing, Joel thought to himself before agreeing. "I'll be back home in about ten minutes, alright?"

"Thank youuuu, you're the best dad in the whole world," Sarah said dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it, kiddo," Joel rolled his eyes before his daughter hung up. Then he sighed, closing the flip phone and putting it back in his jean pocket.

Having heard the girl’s muffled voice through the phone, you asked, "Period problems?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I gotta go."

You spoke suddenly, "I could whip up a batch of those dark chocolate brownies she liked and have them over by tomorrow afternoon." Then you paused, looking up at him for permission, "If you're alright with that, of course."

Joel's mouth quirked into a tired smile. You are really set on that taking care of me thing, aren't you?

"That would be great," he answered. "Thank you."

"No problem," you said, giving him another quick kiss afterwards. "Goodnight, Joel. See you tomorrow."He bid you goodnight with a sly wink, which earned a little laugh from you as you closed your door behind him. And the little sound, mixed with the lingering feeling of your soft lips on his cheek, have him shaking his head on the short walk home. Oh, what baking can do.

[lestappenforever]

“Because growing up with a father who rejected him at every turn, no matter what he did, had left Max immune to letting the rejection of others affect him.

Well. Almost. Because contrary to popular belief, Max was still human in the grand scheme of things.

Even if he didn’t let many people see”

-

“The mere reminder stings like a motherfucker, and Max has to look away from where he has been staring at Charles on the podium. Because their last conversation in Monaco hasn’t done anything to dwell Max’s feelings for Charles, as much as Max had hoped it would. Has done nothing to put a damper on how desperately he wants Charles. All of him, in any way possible, all the fucking time.”

-

“There are tears burning his eyes and a lump forming in his throat, and Max just can’t. He can’t handle this. Can’t handle Charles. Can’t handle still wanting Charles more than he wants another world championship when he knows he can’t have him.”

-

Max Verstappen is used to rejection, and he accepts it without hesitation, Without putting up much of a fight. He doesn’t know how he’d cope if he didn’t.

-

“I don’t know! Be angry with me, hate me, treat me like I was invisible in the paddock for not being ready to let the whole world find out — something that showed it mattered! That I mattered!” Charles’ voice cracks a little at that last part, and Max is rendered speechless.”

-

“Charles, I told you I loved you. How can you even begin to think that you didn’t matter? That you don’t matter?” Max asks, voice finally at a more acceptable volume now.

You matter. You matter so fucking much. Hell, Charles, you’re all that fucking matters.

-

Max wants to reach out and pull him close. Wants to kiss him like there is no tomorrow and never let him go.

But he doesn’t. Because he can’t.

-

“I never needed or wanted the whole world to know. And losing whatever it was we had broke my fucking heart, Charles,” Max’s voice is low and raw, and there is no concealing the pain lacing it.

“But I would never ask you for anything that you cannot or will not give. So yes, I went back to treating you like a friend because I don’t know what else to do.”

-

“You thinking you don’t matter is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You are everything, Charles. You have always been everything . And fuck everything and everyone who makes you feel like you’re not.”

-

I want this to be noted as the parts where the author broke and shattered and bruised my heart. And I believe I should be compensated for having to go through that gut wrenching experience. My heart is crying. The author and the lestappen from this fic universe needs to fix it because I don’t think my heart can go through it again. It already goes through pain because Ferrari does Ferrari things to ruin Charles every weekend.

Anyways, lovely chapter, broke my heart and made me cry but nonetheless an amazing chapter. Can’t wait to cry more or be happy(🤞🤞) while reading the last two chapter. I will see you again after the next update. I don’t know if I will be crying or smiling though.

My beautiful, kind, darling anon who I do not deserve in any way, shape or form,

Thank you so much for this ask, and for including the parts of the chapter that affected you the most. The fact that you've taken the time out of your day not only to read the chapter, but to leave me this wonderful ask fills me with more joy than I can even begin to describe. Hearing my words can have such an emotional impact is honestly such a massive compliment, and makes the many, many hours I have put into writing this fic feel even more worth it.

I'm already excited to share the last two chapters with you, and I love you so very much. 💕

(And I'm crossing everything I have for Charles to please have a good weekend, and for Ferrari to fix his fucking car before tomorrow or I swear to God I will scream.)

[mattmurdocksscars]

Hello Amanda! I hope you're well! 💕 I was browsing some of the promts for your Weekend of Sin, and the line "Never tease me like that again." somehow gives me Michael vibes, said in a low, warning tone... only if you feel up to it, of course! It's nice to even just think about it 🫠

You and @itwasthereaminuteago requested this so I absolutely had to do it! Hope yall enjoy!

It had turned into a game of sorts. You, trying to see how far you could push Michael before he snapped and railed you into next week, and Michael, who did his best to resist in an attempt to teach you a lesson.

You wouldn't usually be one to brag, but you were definitely winning the game. Oh, Michael was putting up a valiant fight but every day you saw his resolve crack just a little more. You would win this game, it was just a matter of when.

When turned out to be a saturday night after Michael had been with his family for most of the day. You knew those days left him especially tense so you had to tread carefully. You didn't want a punishment, after all. You wanted a reward.

So you made sure to greet him at the door with his shirt on and nothing else. You handed him a beer and took his coat from him. Turning to hang it up, you heard Michael's breath hitch as he realized you had no underwear on.

"Jesus, pet... what are ya doing ta me?" He murmured. He gently set the beer down on the kitchen counter before he advanced on you. He crowded you back against the wall and set his hands on your hips.

"What are you talking about, Mikey?" You said innocently, batting your eyelashes up at him. Michael growled and pressed up against you.

"Ya know exactly what I'm talkin' about, pet. Walkin' around my house in my shirt with no panties on?" He growled again, his voice dropping low. "I'm giving in ta ya this time but never tease me like that again." You bit your lip and nodded.

"Yes, Mikey. I understand."

"Good." With that he picked you up and carried you up the stairs. You were definitely trouble, but Michael wouldn't have it any other way.

[direwombat]

another week, another wip wednesday

tagged by @inafieldofdaisies and @cassietrn over the weekend and tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton this morning. Thank you so much lovelies 💕

Tagging: @adelaidedrubman @detectivelokis , @sstewyhosseini, @strafethesesinners , @strangefable , @fourlittleseedlings , @purplehairsecretlair , @schoute , @gaeadene , @g0dspeeed , @sukoshimikan , @poetikat , @josephslittledeputy , @madparadoxum , @euryalex , @clonesupport , @ivymarquis , @vampireninjabunnies-blog , @nightwingshero , @deputyash , @harmonyowl , @aceghosts , @inquisitors-grave, @trench-rot, @river-ward, @confidentandgood, and anyone else who i maybe missed and who has something to share (but no pressure <3)

here's a bit of the abo au i was working on last night (hammered out almost 2k in one sitting which is a lot more than i had anticipated)

“Staci, wait,” she says, and she opens her mouth to begin thanking him, but he shakes his head and cuts her off. 

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking pitifully. His eyes glisten and he blinks back tears, swallowing heavily. “This isn’t kindness. I -- I’m sorry.” And without another word, he pulls the heavy iron door closed, locking it behind him and imprisoning her with a damning click.

She sits in the deafening silence of the room for a long, long moment, squirming as the effects of her cold shower wears off. Like a pot of boiling water that was taken off a burner momentarily and then put back on, her simmering Heat rapidly threatens to spill over. 

And then the radio Pratt left behind on the bedside table chirps. “Comfortable, Deputy?” Jacob asks, and in the quiet of her cell, it’s almost like he’s there with her. He doesn’t wait for her to answer, however, and pushes on. “I should hope you are. Your accommodations are far nicer than what most guests receive.” 

She growls and against her better judgment, her hand darts out to grab the radio. “I’m well aware of your typical accommodations. You’ve got the shittiest AirBnB I’ve ever seen.”

“Like it or not, this is where you’re riding out your heat.”

“Says who?” she snarls -- as if she has any idea how she’ll escape. 

“Says me,” Jacob responds. “Face it Jackrabbit, even if you did slip free, you think you’d make it very far in the state you’re in? You’re surrounded by Alphas, honey, and we’ll sniff you out in a heartbeat. I know Heat brain makes Omegas irrational, but you and I both know you’re not that stupid.”

He’s right, of course, but she’ll be damned before she ever admits that. Even if it was almost a compliment. Although the idea of being hunted down, much like how she was before being tossed into the cages does make her cunt clench, forcing her to sink her teeth into her lip to bite back a whimper. “And once my Heat breaks?” she asks, praying to whoever’s listening that Jacob doesn’t pick up on the slight pant and husk to voice. “What happens then?”

“Let’s worry about that bridge when we get to it,” Jacob says lightly. A wonderfully vague non-answer, just what she’s come to expect from the Seeds. “But in the meantime,” he continues, his voice dropping low, and the crackle of the radio gives an even rougher edge to it. “If you ever need any help, sweetheart, just say the word. I already told you that I’d take good care of you.”

The image of him mounting her right there on her tiny little cot, fucking his knot into her, pops into her traitorous brain. The hand not holding the radio slides down her stomach following the path towards her clit. She stops herself just as her fingers slip underneath the hem of her sweater and she snatches her hand back. “I’d rather die,” she snarls into the transceiver. 

There’s a long pause, and when Jacob finally responds, all he gives her are three words to end the conversation. 

“So be it.” 

[powderblueblood]

hellooooooo. i hope ur good! i listened to ur actor steve playlist u made and i thought it was interesting! it was my first time listening to them and they had a very unique sound, or at least, it was pretty different from what i usually listen to! i think i liked no children best, and i added it to my playlists! i liked in the age of kings as well, at least, for steve and beadie, it felt like a nice song for them, certainly that steve would feel when beadie finally trusts him a bit past out of control actor diva looking for an easy time. i know you said it as a joke, but i genuinely thought about which wife no children could be about, and idk, the "out of this town" and the "hand in unlovable hand" and lying all felt like very good first wife from his hometown material. especially first wife who moved with him to LA and then shit really broke down for them as drugs alcohol and affairs started entering the picture (i don't remember if there is lore that goes against this my bad if it does!) also, lmao idk why, i put myself in the first wife's shoes, like just me as the first mrs harrington, and idk why, i got a real sense of terrible loneliness coming from the movie screen. i know it might not actually be a thing, but i suddenly sort of want her and steve to see each other again, maybe lots of years later, when beady and steve have like, kids and shit, and i/she is married to a sensible, not actor guy, just like, engineer, whose stable and practical, and they somehow bump into each other at like, a totally mundane space, like the grocery store or something, and they meet for like a minute, just like pleasantries nothing crazy, and she feels the calmness that wasn't there when they were young, and is just like, "you feel good, steven" and he just sort of cracks a real grin and is like, "yeah i guess i do", and just like, idk, they find a real solace for each other. maybe steve's kid comes back from putting the shopping cart away or maybe the permanent husband brings the car back around, and you look back once, looking at each other's greay hairs, and wrinkles and sunspots and crow's feet, and you both just feel a release. i just think that would be neat. i am going to go be insane about this somewhere else, apologies for the crazy length, hope you have a nice weekend friend <3 love ya!

Sanjana the way whenever you appear in my inbox I know I’m going to be FED, I’ve been meditating on the who’s the no children wife thing for the last however many hours and I think you’ve honestly got it bullseye. Because there’s nothing like that tumult of being in a new shiny place with someone then it all just kind of EXPLODING on you— and I love the idea of mrs harrington the first and steve coming across each other later in life (especially because I think a lot of Steve’s films get lost in this vault fire I’m basing off the 1937 fox vault fire), both of them relatively obscure versions of the people they married but still able to!!! Recognise!!! What!!! Happiness!!! Looks!!! Like!!! HOOF IT INTO ME. Love u pal, have a beautiful weekend 💕

Also to edit so glad you enjoyed the mountain goats too, John Darnielle is just a great Guy to listen to Talk

[softguarnere]

oh hell to the fuck yes

can i req a guarnere x m!reader fic thats like, curahee era get-together fluff? tysm!!

Might Find Love

Bill Guarnere x reader

A/N: Hello Anon! Thanks for the patience - the past few months have been crazy. This isn't my best work by any means, but I felt bad for how long you had to wait, and I wanted to get something to you before the year was up. Title comes from Might Find Love by Hero The Band. I hope you enjoy it! (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: none

War is not supposed to be a glamorous thing. But every time that Guarnere cracks a joke or smiles in your direction, it gets a little harder to remind yourself that you're here on serious business - not to fall in love with one of your fellow paratroopers. Your feelings are getting as hard to ignore as the man himself.

"Stop," you hiss, kicking your leg out at him.

Bill stops, his hand raised to poke your leg again. He breaks into a grin. "Oh, sorry. Do you not like that?"

"It's distracting." The pages of your newspaper snap as you bring it back up, blocking him from view. Face hidden, you wince. It's not that you mean to snap at him, it's just that things are all starting to pile up, which makes it easier to crack.

Weekend passes have been cancelled again. Sobel confiscated a pair of socks that he claimed were "non-regulation clothing" from your footlocker and put you on latrine duty. You're worn out from going on one of the infamous night marches, but you can't seem to sleep. Now you just want to lie on your bunk and read the paper, and Bill can't seem to stop pestering you.

You could explain all of this to him, and you're about to when you feel him poke your leg again.

"Will you stop?!"

He smirks, finger poised to do it again. "Only if you give me attention."

Christ, he is such a younger sibling.

"Fine." The newspaper doesn't quite land where you want it to on the table, but at least it doesn't fall to the ground. No doubt that the sound would somehow summon Sobel, who would demand to know why it was there and start assigning all sorts of punishments for the accident. "What do you want to do?"

"Currahee."

You blink. "You want to run Currahee? On one of the few days that we don't have PT?"

"No, not run. I wanna walk up Currahee. Leisurely like."

"That'll take all afternoon."

"That's the point." He offers you his hand as he stands, not seeming to care about what the action does to your heart; you might not be running, but your heart is racing and your imagination could easily get swept up in the pace.

Running Currahee has always been hell, but walking it . . . It's nice, somehow. Instead of the scenery and the views rushing past in a blur, it's nice to be able to see them. To enjoy them. And to enjoy your company as you make your way up the mountain instead of chanting and struggling to catch your breath.

Bill seems to have no problem with the last bit. He talks the entire way up the mountain, seemingly about everything. Life back in Philly, something funny one of the other men said, letters from his family, what he thinks the war will be like.

Halfway up the mountain, it occurs to you that you've never been alone together. You try to soak in his every word with a new appreciation as you hike.

He lets out a sigh when you reach the top of Currahee, staring out at the landscape that sprawls below the mountain. "We never get to see it like this. It's nice, huh?"

"I guess they don't have views like this back in Philly."

"Nope." You can't miss the way he glances at you. With a small laugh, he turns to face you. "No views like this either."

You freeze. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Come on, (Y/N). You're tellin' me you really didn't guess why I wanted to bring you up here?"

To pester me, you think. To spend time with me . . . alone. Of course the thought had flashed across your mind before leaving the barracks, but you hadn't wanted to get your hopes up. But now -

"So that no one can overhear us," you guess. "You wanted us to be alone."

"Did you not want that?"

Of course it's what you want. He's figured that out. And he wants to be alone, too.

"But there's a war going on," you say, voicing the thoughts and excuses that you've considered hundreds of times. "We're paratroopers. We're risking our lives. Falling in love isn't a part of going into combat."

Bill raises an eyebrow. "And yet, most of our friends have picked up some sorta girlfriend . . ."

He's right. He knows he's right. And you know it, too.

So then what's holding you back?

It sounds so simple like this. Yet it feels like you're taking a huge leap of faith, like how you imagine jumping from a plane for the first time will feel.

"They've all found love, of some sort. And I think we've found something, too."

You could kiss him. You have the feeling that he wants to do the same. But this thing between you - it's not new, exactly. It's been there from the beginning, but it's never been properly acknowledged before, and it will take some exploring.

Instead, you take his hand and squeeze it. "We've gotta be careful. But we can give it a chance."

His smile is even brighter than it usually is. "We'll give it a shot."

[ladylooch]

I'm starting to feel better, twas a rough few days and my housemates really pulled through as I was too weak to venture downstairs for myself 🥹.

Very behind in uni with an two exams next week and an essay due on Sunday that I haven't started. But then I have holidays and I can visit my family 💕 and more time being up to date with your universe of course ✨️😍

It is 1am my time tho and I need to get cracking on this essay during daylight hours ya know so probs head to bed now I guess and wake up to kid AU goodness 😍

Thanks for caring tho! And how have you been? Xxx

Oh no! That sounds terrible! Your roomies were so sweet to help 😘 I’m happy you are surrounded by good people!

I’m sure that stress of being behind doesn’t help with getting well again. Make sure to take care of yourself still! It’s so important especially after being so sick.

I’ve had an off week but i have a long weekend off work, which I am grateful for! Going to take it easy and just relax. This next stretch of three months is going to be very busy at work so I need to take all the calm and ease I can get!

Sweet dreams, bby! Hope you dream about the AU you voted for 🤭

[safyresky]

Dani: reblogs a thing about ask box shenanigans

Me: M Y T I M E H A S C O M E

It's a me. Lurking. About to hop on that art train when I spotted the post. You don't have to do all of them but here are a handful of fanfic titles that I wanna see what your vague ideas about them would be

Happy meal

The footloose sensation

Paranormal piracy

The golden ticket

Four eyes

The shortest day of the year

Anyway, I hope you're doing well my friend and if you aren't I hope it gets better for you! 🤗💕

(cracks knuckles, stretches neck) HERE WE GO

Happy Meal

In which Fino and Fiera's attempt to go buy themselves happy meals goes very, very awry!

They decide to go to a mall to get their micky dee's and get very horribly distracted, and also, they are on fire. This is a normal human mall, btw. The Magical Bureau of Investigation has their work cut OUT for them lmao

The Footloose Sensation

I have never seen Footloose, and after reading the plot page for it I'm like "oh my god I cannot believe this is a real movie based on a real town" so here's THREE IDEAS for you

Footloose the movie craze hits the North Pole. Shenanigans ensue

A hypothetical experiment goes wrong, and now everyone is dancing to the Footloose song and it's really getting in the way of the day's work tbh (or any song. Maybe it's like the SINGING episode of shows, but with DANCING. Jack's like MY TIME HAS COME and single-handedly navigates them all through the final dance number of footloose to break the dancing curse)

A Bad Santa bans dancing. Elfsburg Footloose parody/rip off ensues 😂😂😂

Paranormal Piracy

Well past her days of Piracy, Jacqueline finds herself in WAY over her head when a ship of ghost pirates kidnaps her, hoping the famous Bruexa de la Niege can help them navigate through and onto the perilous, once thought mythical, Endless Winter Island to find the supposed lost treasure that resides there that would surely set them up for the rest of their (after) lives.

Do they know they're dead? I am unsure at this time, but it is somehow FUNNIER if they DON'T. I know for certain though that Jacqueline very much thinks the entire time, holy snowballs, I hope this treasure is real so that when they find it they can move on to the Great Beyond and I can go back to bed.

The Golden Ticket

A teleporting mishap lands teeny-bopper Jacqueline in a secret room of the family home. A secret room that is a treasure trove of magical knowledge. For the briefest of moments, she has her brother back.

Four Eyes

Fino's magic school frenemy gets glasses. Everyone teases the poor orc until he snaps and accidentally makes a magical beast with four eyes that attacks EVERYONE. He and Fino team up to stop the magical beast, and put some bullies in their place!

The Shortest Day of the Year

Winter sleeps through her own birthday 🤦🏻‍♀️.

People keep trying to talk to her. Blaise has to fend off a LOT of people to make sure she gets her rest! winter wakes up, realizes she slept through the entire day, shrugs and goes "Well, I've had thousands of birthdays, and there's plenty more to come, I'm sure." Meanwhile, her hubby looks like he has fought a whole entire second and third war while she slept.

Thanks for sending one in! And for others who are like "tf is this ask box shenanigan?" send me a made up fic title and i'll tell you what i'd write :)

(thoughts and general musings under the cut)

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! Meant to post yesterday but got distracted by errands, and today we tackled the Fear Ladder I created to get over a new fear of driving on the highway thanks to the dealer comparing my car to a sick PUPPY that needs to be put down--and yes, they said puppy. IT'S BEEN. AN EXPERIENCE, THIS WEEK! DON'T GO TO DEALERSHIPS IF U CAN AVOID IT. FIND URSELF A GOOD MECHANIC THAT WON'T TUG AT UR HEARTSTRINGS WITH PUPPY METAPHORS.

But yes things are going okay and I think I've got the wedding invites almost ready to go which is a RELIEF ANYWAY, YOU DID NOT ASK FOR MY WEEKEND LIFE STORY AND YET. MY MOUTH IS A MOTORING. AS PROMISED, MUSINGS:

I got stuck on the golden ticket one and had to do a think and a half, lmao, but then it popped into my head yesterday before bed and I was like "oh god the angst. the hurt comfort. holy fuck."

I may actually write some of these up??? ANYWAY the musings I promised:

please someone ask me about Fino's orcish rival I am BEGGING i could go ON (I say that now but in the event someone asked I think I'd be like ... uhh. he exists??? but i love him even tho he is a hazy concept)

y'all don't even KNOW my brain has been PLAGUED with thoughts of Frost kiddos and their SOs, specifically the twins

i have no idea if there is a dance number in footloose, but given the titular song i have to believe there is, y'know? and I HAVE to believe Jack knows it and to defeat the dancing curse they gotta reproduce the number PERFECTLY. Jack's like "MY TIME HAS COME"

Fino and Fiera get HELLA DISTRACTED at the mall and it is chaotic as FUCK. Fino walks by an electronics store and is like "I am going to fiddle and click every button". Fiera keeps running into the little like, hallmark esque shops like "is it magic or not" and BOTH kids meet their doom with clothing, oh my god. they didn't even KNOW they liked nice clothes until the moment they lay eyes on the pretty dress shop! Shame ordibeing clothing isn't usually fireproof ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

anyway they 100% get banned, 3 fire trucks and several casualties later

AND to tug at ur heartstrings: I realized that once Jacqueline found Jack's secret library, she had like ALL of his magical knowledge at her disposal and could KEEP TRAINING PAST THE WINTER MASTERY WINTER KNEW?! So now when she says "I learnt from the best!" she truly does mean it bc even tho he wasn't there she STILL learnt from him

and u bet ur ass when they reunite and he picks up that she learnt from his shit Jack's like "cool! ur form is sloppy and that's not being done right" and helps her refine her skills, yo

i am SOFT for these siblings

anyway ty again for the ask andie! also, LOVE that u love the shenanigans tag lmao. i dont even remember how I came up with that one but my GOD shenanigans is such a fun word