#i swear that prompt post was more than three days ago

[lovelybarnes]

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: language? umm crimes about: rewrite!! wanted to get back into writing and i thought rewriting some of my favorite prompts would be fun, PF12 “committing crimes” + DH8 “how dumb can you be?” a/n: hello! i meant to post this like. five days ago LMAO but i started school and should be doing work right now and i came up with a false memory claiming i did, in fact post, when i, in fact, did not. anyway. here it is. i don't know how much better it is than the original but i had fun writing it, though, surprise! i still suck at endings. ummm i am thinking or rewriting more to get back into the groove and i am writing an actual new request. this got long okay thank you

"We're going to get caught."

You shoot Bucky a look, nose wrinkled. "You are so negative," you say, legs kicking as you climb over a fence. "We are not going to get caught." You watch as he leaps from the ground, metal hand grasping the top of the fence and launching his body over it cleanly. He lands crouched and stable, watching you slowly turn your body over the ledge and subsequently topple onto the ground.

"We're gonna go to jail," he sighs, bending over to hoist you onto your feet by your armpits. Your hair has leaves in it.

"Oh my god." You stumble, hands wrapping around his arms from the speed. "How the fuck do you—"

You shriek when Bucky spins you around to press your back against his chest and clamps a palm over your mouth, gentle even through the fingers keeping your lips shut. Your eyes widen cartoonishly, flailing as he manhandles you behind a shrub. You're still complaining to the best of your ability when he shushes you, directing your attention to the woman walking out of the house.

You quiet down and stare, brows furrowed. She's not supposed to be there.

It's like Bucky can read your mind, glancing at you with a sigh. You try your best to give him a look back before looking at the woman again. She has a phone pressed against her ear, lips moving angrily. Her voice upticks sharply with the end of each word she says.

You relax when you realize there isn't a chance of you getting caught, kind of wishing you had popcorn to watch her nearly trip over her heels and become even more furious, kicking at the grass. Bucky's silent enough for you to seriously doubt you'd know he was there had he not been tightly wrapped around you. You squeak at the fact, impressed. Bucky pinches your side unhelpfully.

She unlocks her car, keys tinkling harshly with her movements. Bucky finally abates when she throws her door open and sinks inside her white Jaguar, the slamming door narrowly missing her pin-straight blonde hair.

You gag, pushing his hand away. "When was the last time you washed your fucking hands? That's disgus-"

"I thought the house was empty," he interrupts, head cocked.

"I thought it was, too," you defend lamely. "She's off schedule. Maybe that's why she was so pissed. Late to her HOES meeting or whatever."

"What the hell is HOES?"

"I don't know!" you cry. "The one with the lawns."

"Are you trying to say the HOA?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "James Buchanan showing his face?"

"This is not-" He sighs your name, "I swear, if any more of your information isn't right, I'm leaving."

You make an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You were not invited."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't die or get sued or go to jail. Which, hey, really likely in a neighborhood that has 'HOES' meetings."

"I'm not gonna 'die' or go to 'jail,'" you insist, finger quotes up and perplexing Bucky. "I don't need your help, anyway, I'm a very capable person with a very capable plan. You just followed me. You're some guy's little brother."

"What?"

"You know. Annoying."

Bucky breathes in slow, watching you creep around the bush for a better angle of the house. He closes his eyes and counts to three, and when he opens them, you're at the porch, tiptoeing like a fuckin' cartoon character into the house and leaving the door open. Spectacular.

He sprints inside inconspicuously, head darting both ways just in case before he closes the door. When he turns, there's an alarm system set up that lazily blinks green. No disturbances. Huh. He glances at you, impressed for a very quick second when he sees you snooping in a cabinet, clueless to the huge dog growling behind you.

He stills immediately, breath slowing. He stares at you and tries his best to make you feel it, but it either goes wrong or he fails entirely when you drop a file, groaning loudly at the injustice of it. The dog twitches. Bucky's heart jumps into his throat.

You're halfway into an inelegant bend when you spot him, face breaking into a smile. Fuck, he thinks. You're pretty even when you're going insane. "Hey! You're finally here. Look at—"

He shoots you a warning look, moving his lips as little as he can. "There's a dog." He glances between it and you, thinking every move ahead to avoid a nasty bite and the failure of your stupid mission.

"Oh my god, Brutus?" You spin too fast, startling the dog both from with your movements and apparent knowledge of his name. 'Brutus' makes a noise between a growl and a whine. You gasp, a palm pressing against your lips. "Brutus, I thought they retired you!"

You drop down to your knees, opening your arms wide. Brutus stares at you for a second, inching closer to sniff you apprehensively. Then, his ears tuck and he whimpers, tail tucked and wagging gently as he walks closer to you.

"You... know the dog."

"Yes, I know the dog," you start, voice careening into a higher, softer pitch as you rub the pads of your fingers behind Brutus' ears. "Brutus has been the guard dog here for two years. I fostered her for a little while until she was adopted but I kept in touch." Brutus licks your cheek, making you squeal. "Her name was originally Poppy but they wanted a scary name." You roll your eyes.

Bucky shoots you a look.

"I sort of spied on them for a few months to make sure she was doing well," you rub her ear, "and she was, yes she was," you baby-talk. "Her owners have shit values but they really spoil their dogs."

"Wow. Okay. One question—the people we are stealing from know you?"

"Yeah, they have my number."

Bucky pinches the skin between his brows.

"Good girl, Poppy, protecting the house from evil intruders," you coo.

Bucky looks at the clock and then you, slowly lowering yourself further to pet Brutus-Poppy. He nudges you with his foot. Poppy growls at him. "Hey. Fellow evil intruder. She's gonna be back at some point."

"Not for another hour at least. Nat's in charge of the distraction." Still, you press a loud kiss to Poppy's head and stand.

"I'm an overachiever. Let's leave ample time."

"Fine," you say loudly, arms swinging petulantly at your side. "I'll make it quick. You're such a bore."

"Yeah, yeah. What are we looking for anyway?"

You use a pencil to look between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Buck." You wink.

Bucky's cheeks pink against his will, shaking it off as quickly as he can as he watches you look around. You pause in the middle of the room, do a full spin, and sigh. "Not here."

Bucky frowns but trails after you into another room, Poppy close behind. You open the door grandiosely to a giant room. "Wow."

"Okay, I know what you said, but you kind of need to tell me so I can help you find it," he says. You ignore him, striding toward a desk and pulling open a drawer. He says your name exasperatedly. You observe a notebook, shaking it vigorously before tossing it over your shoulder. Other items follow in quick succession, which he catches amidst his frustration. "What are you—you're going to break something—" He catches a crystal ball.

"I'm not, I know what I'm doing," you insist. "You are so pessimistic. Have faith." You dig in a little further before grumbling, rising to your feet and kicking a chair down. "I'm going to look in another room," you say and take off, leaving Bucky with an armful of miscellaneous objects to put back. He screws his eyes shut and counts to three.

You walk down the hallway quickly, peeking into the rooms until you find what you're looking for. Three doors in, you stop, scanning the walls until you find a hideous painting hung up next to a dusty bookshelf. You make a triumphant noise and stride toward it, running your fingers along the frame until you find the indentations of a security panel.

"Aha! And, if I remember correctly..." You enter 1234 and the painting swings open to reveal a safe. "Losers."

You count silently as you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat Natasha's record. Keeping the door open with an outstretched finger, you contort to find a pen, holding the cap between your teeth as you scrawl your time on the inside of your wrist, giggling in the anticipation of letting her know.

You turn your attention back to the safe after you've written a few wobbly exclamation points, rifling around until you find what you're looking for. Your fingers dig through a dark box filled with stolen valuables, a grin on your face when your fingers get tangled in the one you're looking for, eyebrows jumping in satisfaction as you tuck it safely into your pocket. You stick your head in the safe again, searching for something shiny to throw in Sam's face when Bucky bursts in.

"Oh, hey, do you think Sam would—"

"They're here."

Cursing, you shove everything into place, closing the safe and carefully moving the picture back. You step back and grimace. "God, that's ugly."

He says your name urgently, wrapping his hand around your wrist and dragging you away, throwing you over his shoulder when you keep lagging behind. You squeak, clamping your mouth shut when Bucky squeezes your thigh in warning.

He dumps you out of an open window and into a bush, rolling himself out onto cropped grass. "Okay, I think that was unnecessary," you mumble, crawling out next to him. There are lines of bubbling red all over your skin from what was apparently a rose bush.

"We have to hurry before the gate closes," he huffs, lifting the both of you up with ease and hurrying to the slimming entrance. You squeeze out unseen and stop at the beginning of the blind spot you came in through. Bucky's huffing when he puts you down.

"What's wrong? I thought you had super high stamina or something," you tease, poking at his shoulder. Bucky glares at you. You laugh and reach for his hand, beckoning him enticingly with your fingers. He appeases you suspiciously, capturing your hand in his. He squeezes and rubs a soft line up and down near your thumb.

"Let's go home," you say.

Bucky blinks. "What?"

"Let's go home. I'm hungry. And I kind of want to take a nap. Can we stop by and pick up some ramen?" You tug at his arm gently, beginning the trek to Bucky's bike down the path without surveillance. "Breaking and entering really wears me out," you say to his furrowed brows.

"Don't forget robbery," he muses.

"Right. Breaking, entering, and robbery really wears me out," you say with a laugh. You turn to him and grin, eyes sparkling.

Bucky stops, staying in place when you pull at him and whine. "What was it?"

You cock your head.

"What did you want to steal so badly?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride," you proffer, wagging your brows.

Bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, holding onto your index finger as you climb onto his back.

He readjusts you as he stands to full height, wrists twisting under your knees and holding your calves tight but kindly. You hum, one arm falling over his chest and the other dipping into your pocket, unzipping it and taking out the chain. You wrap it around your fingers delicately and rest your chin on his head, looking at it dangling from your hands.

Bucky begins to walk. "So?"

Your thumb draws wonky hearts on Bucky's chest, tracing the letters on the tags with your other one. "Do you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off? It was the one thing you couldn't get back because it wasn't in that museum." You feel Bucky nod. "Well, I've been looking for them," you confess, pursing your lips. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd tell me to stop and that it didn't matter but I know it did—I know it does.

"A few months ago, I found out who bought them and I tried to buy them back, but these assholes wouldn't budge no matter how much I offered—or anyone, I impersonated a lot of people. I think they just wanted to keep them because other people wanted them. And the things they said about you..." You shake your head, feeling yourself going hot with anger.

Bucky squeezes your leg, muttering your name.

You stop yourself, letting your face slant so your cheek rests on his hair. He smells sweet like your shampoo. Fucker. "So, anyway, I did the obvious thing: I tracked them down and broke into their house to get it back. It's not like the tags are theirs, anyway."

Bucky stops abruptly, jolting you. You yelp, complaining as he puts you down and stares at you.

"You did—this was to get my dog tags?"

You look back at him. "Yes? I didn't—"

He cuts you off, pulling you into a hug so tight, you cough. Your arms hang limply in surprise for a second before they come up to reciprocate, a dazed but still eager arm rubbing the line of his shoulder blade. Bucky hugs you a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I don't think anyone... I don't know many people that would do that for me."

"Oh," you say, blinking fast. "I—of course I would. I love you, Bucky, you... I would do anything for you."

"Fuck," he says wetly, pulling away to hold your face in both hands. He smiles at you. One of those real ones that crinkle his eyes. "You're—fuck—"

You laugh, his hands falling away to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't get them back after you went through all that trouble."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean? You think I didn't get them?" You raise your hand to his view, dog tags dangling. "Your faith in me is shocking."

Bucky grabs the tags and you let them go easily, watching his hands turning them around slowly, index running along his name. JAMES B. BARNES. Then, two lines down, R. BARNES. "I can't believe you did this for me," he says softly.

You smile. "Well, believe it, baby," you tell him, gently teasing. Your wring your hands together. "Of course I did," you say, quieter.

When he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. "Thank you." He glances down at them once more and splits the chain with a finger to pull it on your neck. "Hold on to them for me?"

You pause. "Bucky..."

"Just until we get to the compound. You'll keep it safe for me."

You keep it safe for much longer than that.

[deadhands69]

Under the Christmas Tree 

MDNI 

Shouto Todoroki x Reader

Content/warnings/etc: gn/afab reader, Chapter 431 spoilers, porn with plot, post-canon/aged up slightly for no other reason than me being amused by the idea of Shouto Todoroki spending the entirety of his twenties after ch431 making stacks of soba bowls instead of ever attempting to get laid. He does get laid in this though: blowjob, fingering, slightly awkward sex (f on top, m on top), also contains swearing and explicit conversations.

2 1/2 Months Ago: Kaminari’s Halloween Party 

It wasn't really Halloween, but three days after. Being heroes, you are all used to it. Drinking holidays always bring out a villain streak in a lot of people so most of your gatherings end up on off days. After the long week, it was nice to have a lowkey night with a few old friends.

“Okay, you're up next!” Kirishima yells across the table, knuckles deep in candy corn. 

“Alright,” you pause to consider your next words. Looking down at your four upright fingers before continuing, “never have I ever…”

You can't remember what your actual words were. Whatever you said, it was boring. A few people groan around the circle, fingers dropping, then it's Sero’s turn. And he was determined to spice it back up again. 

“Never have I ever,” he starts with a twisted smile, “eaten ass…before breakfast.”

“Booooo,” Kaminari groans, tossing a few pieces of candy corn at him before dropping his last finger. “Okay, fine. Who's next?”

Shouto is up next. You prepared yourself for another odd one, his last turn was that he's never worn mismatched socks.

“Hey Todoroki,” chirped Mina, “quite a few fingers you're holding up there.”

He glanced down to the nine fingers still remaining before he looked at everyone else's in confusion. He was the only one in the room not down to one hand. Kaminari, Hagakure, and Shinso were all out. 

“Oh. Isn't that.. How you win?” 

“By losing at life?” Bakugo laughs. 

“There's no way you aren't lying,” Jiro adds, “wasn't Hagakure’s ‘never have I ever fucked a girl?’”

“I haven't done that with anyone,” Shouto responded. 

“There's no way,” Sero responded, “you're thirty! You've been voted the hottest hero in every girly magazine for ten years straight. I'm not buying it.”

“It's true, I really haven't,” Shouto said quite plainly, before glancing around the table again. He briefly locked eyes with you, searching for your reaction before quickly looking away. A blush crept up on his cheeks. 

Up to that moment, it had never occurred to him to be self conscious about his lack of sexual experience (or about anything, really.) But that night, with all of your eyes staring, he started to think maybe something was wrong with him. 

3 Weeks Ago: Mina & Kirishima’s Kitchen

“Here’s to comfort,” you read. 

“Ooh that's always a fun one!” Mina exclaimed, grabbing the blue stick out of your hand. “I'll pass that along to your Secret Santa!”

Every year since graduating from UA, your friends group has organized a gift giving game. It had now become some convoluted version of Secret Santa that started relatively normal but gained extra steps and rules along the way. At some point, popsicle sticks in a jar with phrases on the bottom of each were added to give your gifter a theme to stick to. Partially for fun, mostly because a few of your former classmates struggled without a prompt. 

“Ooooh, and guess what Todoroki got!” Mina fished through the jar for a green popsicle stick before holding it up, “‘a new experience!’ You can help him with that, riiiight?”

“Oh come on,” you dismiss, “he's cute but he’s clearly not interested in that sort of thing.”

“That's not what he said last week,” Mina winked at you. You look to Jiro for some confirmation.

“In more or less words, yeah.” 

“And that means…” you ask.

“I said ‘ooh sounds like someone’s getting a blowjob from Santa this year!’” Mina began laughing too hard to keep talking. Jiro continued, “we had to explain that no, we do not actually mean Santa. It was a whole thing, but in the end he said it’s something he’d been ‘thinking about a lot lately.’”

Kaminari chimed in, “and he’s had a crush on you for ages! I think you should do it, even if you don’t get him for Secret Santa.”

“Of course [y/n] will get him, we'll rig it. Like we do every year,” Mina flicked her eyebrows up at you. 

“Wait, what??” Kaminari exclaimed, dropping his beer. 

“You didn't know that?” Jiro asked, while throwing a towel at him. “You've been at the planning meetings, how could you not know that?”

“Okay, okay, you can explain it to him later. But now, let's get back to what's important.”

She moved into your space with intensity until her pink nose was nearly touching yours. Without breaking eye contact she asked:

“will you do it, [y/n]?” 

Current Date: Kaminari’s Holiday Party

“Okay, everyone remember. There are five hours left of today!” Mina announces, “I repeat, 5 hours! If you do not give your Secret Santa gift in this time, you will owe them lunch for a week!”

Secretly, nearly everyone hoped to get Bakugo for this reason - he’s an amazing cook and hates the game. Guaranteed lunch for a week. 

Maybe you got him this year, your gifter still hasn’t done anything. You haven’t either though.

It’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s just… awkward. 

Plus, the opportunity hadn’t come up. You were only alone with Shouto twice in the past few weeks. Once, you were both called to an emergency and went home covered in ash and blood. The other time, you were trying to work up the courage to bring it up when Denki showed up at your door to use the bathroom after bursting a pipe in his (the joys of living two doors away from him.) After that, he was out of town for a week. Then he was jetlagged. This is your first time seeing him since then. He looks well rested, at least. 

Four hours pass by quickly. 

You need to find a way to draw him out but every time you’ve tried, he’s been busy. First with distributing the handmade soba bowls and chopsticks he’s gifting everyone. Now he’s playing a card game with Sero and Kirishima. You’d been following him around all night, looking for your opening to no avail. Maybe it’s the constant glancing or the way you’re tapping your foot, but his two opponents have taken notice of your predicament.  

“Heyy,” a drunk Kirishima throws an arm over Shouto’s shoulders, “it would be super manly if you helped [y/n] with their Christmas tree. It’s been propped up in the corner for days. Driving me crazy.” He winks at you.

“Yeah,” Shouto replies calmly, “I can do that. Right now?”

Thank you Kiri!

“Yeah,” Kirishima gives his shoulder a squeeze before letting him go, “better get to it before we forget again.”

“But I won’t for-” you grab his arm, immediately dragging him out the door and down the hallway towards your apartment. 

Fortunately, your place looks nice right now. You'd decorated, initially planning to host the party. However, your friends stepped in and made the decision to give you space for Shouto's gift. Plus, moving supplies to Denki's apartment took them all of five minutes. 

“This must be important to you, I’m happy to help,” Todoroki says while you push the door open to a perfectly upright and decorated Christmas tree. Considering that the glowing bulbs reflecting off the shiny ornaments are the only light source in the room, it certainly draws the attention. 

“Huh? Oh, right…” you really hoped he saw through the excuse, but this couldn’t have been that easy. He glances between you and the tree for a moment. 

“You don’t actually need help with this, do you?” he tentatively asks. 

“No, Shouto. I don’t need help with the tree. I…” you pause, considering your next words. You try to sound collected but they all come spilling out at once. “I’ve been trying to get you alone because I got you for secret santa.”

“Oh,” the previous conversation with Mina and Jiro comes flooding back to him, “oh.” 

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, very okay. Before I presume too much, do you mind telling me what the gift is?”

“It's…a new experience for you.”

He seems to like your confidence, that you're more experienced than him. When you grab the collar of his shirt to pull him further into the room, he follows eagerly. Dropping to sit across from you on the rug in the middle of your floor, the lights catch his face perfectly. You'd never realized how beautiful his eyes are up close. 

Leaning in, you press your lips into his.

You know it's not his first kiss. In varying years, a few of your friends have bragged about kissing him at midnight on New Years. But you know he's never kissed anyone like this before. Your hands are buried in his two toned hair, pressing him to the floor as you climb on top. He groans into your mouth, his head tipping up to you as his lips chase more closeness with yours. Your tongue slides over his, deepening the kiss. 

You take off his sweater, then the shirt underneath. Dragging your fingers over his bare chest.

Hips pressing into his while you straddle him. Dragging yourself over the hard bulge forming in his pants. The heat builds in your gut. It's time to take things further. 

Reluctantly, you pull your lips away from his. Crawling backwards down his body. At some point, while your face hovers above his belt, you have a realization. 

“You want this, right?” you ask, staring up into his heterochromatic eyes. Knowing that Shouto Todoroki would easily get himself into a situation like this without meaning to, it felt important to ask. 

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” you pull his underwear down with the pants as he tips his hips up to help you slide them off. 

And… wow.

Sure, it's not the most massive dick in the world but definitely the biggest you've ever seen in person. His pale leaky tip begging to be put in your mouth. He twitches at the feeling of your warm breath as you move closer, finally making contact when you lick the vein up his length. 

As soon as you touch him, he crumples under you like tissue paper. He exhales like he’s never relaxed so much in his life. Maybe he hasn’t.

You wrap your lips around his tip and press your tongue onto his shaft. Using your hands to make up for the areas your mouth can’t reach. As your head dips up and down, working up a good amount of spit and precum, his moaning increases. Soon, he’s jutting his hips up towards you. His hand gripping your hair harder.

You know he could cum right now if you let him, but you have more ideas tonight.

Pulling your lips away with a pop, you sit back up. He watches as you move over him, still working to steady his breath. This is a lot more than he really expected to happen tonight but he’s loving every minute of it.

Taking off the amount of clothes you need to, you laugh slightly at how clothed you still are in comparison to him. He’s down to just his socks. 

“You can take your socks off, you know.” 

He does, quickly. Now you have him completely naked under you.

Straddling his lap, you line him up with your entrance pulling your underwear to the side.

When you sink down onto his tip, you feel his girth immediately. Making it what you’d assume is about halfway down, you slide back up. Continuing to envelop him in small increments. You want so badly to maintain the image he has of you being cool and experienced but the stretch of taking all of him is becoming more of a task than you anticipated.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“No, you’re doing great. It’s just…you’re kind of big.”

“Oh. I'm sorry if my penis isn't ideal.”

You could laugh. Seriously. The amount of guys who would be massively jealous and he has no fucking idea. 

“No, it's definitely not that. You have nothing to worry about; it'll just take a bit to get used to.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it better for you? I know you’re doing this for me, but I'd like to make you feel good too.”

“Yeah, you could use your fingers?”

One issue - you forgot his fingers are massive as well.

“Is this okay?” he asks, slowly inching his middle finger in after you showed him how. 

“Yeah, just.. A little faster now.”

Eventually, he gets the hang of it. Earning a huge gush of cum from you, leaving his fingers sticky. His hand lingers for a moment while you come down. You’re still gripping his shoulders and breathing hard into his chest. Finally, you look up at him.

You haven’t seen him look this proud of himself in a long time.

“Does this mean we can try again?” he asks, “if you’re finished after that I can respect that as well.” 

“Yeah, we can definitely keep going,” you smile, shoving him onto his back again. You begin removing more clothes, starting with your now damp undergarments. 

This time, when you line yourself up you slide a little easier onto him. Still not quite fitting the whole thing but the stretch is much less now. 

Your elbows drop by his head, caging him to the ground under you. He brings his warm (and cold) hands to your hips, enjoying the way your skin moves against his fingers as you bounce up and down on him. The sound of your combined breathing fills your living room, nearly echoing from the corners. Holiday lights still illuminating his face while he stares up at you in amazement.

Why didn’t you do this sooner?

You continue riding his dick until the tension in your gut builds. Soon you’re clenching around him while holding onto his shoulders for support again. Your bounce slows to a grind while you press yourself as close to him as possible.

“Shouto,” you moan into his ear.

He groans and turns his head to kiss you.

“Can I..” he asks, sitting the two of you up while he holds you against his chest.

“Uh huh,” you nod and he has you on your back. Hips rutting between your legs that are now wrapped around his back.

Within the minute, it’s his turn. 

“I’m about to cum,” he moans, “is it okay if I-”

“Yeah, please cum,” you whisper.

Immediately, he whimpers - pulling you closer while he gushes inside of you.

"I've wanted to do that for years," he murmurs.

You move the hair out of each other’s eyes while you catch your breath. Eventually making your way off the living room floor.

While you’re getting cleaned up, he excuses himself briefly. Saying he needed to grab something from his car. You figure it’s toiletries or something and carry on.

A few minutes later, as you’re coming out of the bathroom freshly changed into comfortable clothes as he re-enters your front door. In his arms is a massive fluffy blanket, which he promptly wraps around you then leads you to your couch. 

“I’m your secret santa this year. I was waiting until after midnight to give you your gift, I wanted the excuse to take you out to lunch for a week,” he says while wrapping his arms around you, warming you further. “There's a new soba place I'd like to try, but I'm open to your suggestions as well.”

Down the hall, your friends were all guessing when they’d see you next. Some saying that one or both of you would come running back within the hour. Much to the delight of Mina, Jiro, Kaminari, and Kirishima - they guessed right. No one saw the two of you until you emerged from your apartment the next morning.

m.list

Okay, this whole thing was admittedly written after reading chapter 431 with izuchako becoming a thing and Jiro/Denki’s friendship deepening while Shouto just doubles down hard on soba. Something about that plus his absolute obliviousness is hilarious to me but I mostly write smut so it led to this weird awkward thing. Thanks for reading!

[i4bellingham]

“how much longer do we have to keep this up?" "just a few more weeks, i swear."”

With Jude

secret relationship prompt list!

Everyone knows that newly married couples should be given their time to bask in the profound elevation of their relationship and the attention that comes with it. Do not rain on their parade is basically what it is.

So when you're stuck in a situation where you're convinced that you've just found the greatest love of your life in the midst of that scene, what would you do?

“We’re still keeping this a secret?”

You shoot Jude a pleading look, flashing a golden smile when one of your cousin's (the soon to be married one) friends passed by. You wrap an arm around his bicep, curling your hands over the hard muscles before dragging him out of the house to the garden where it was much more peaceful than the mess that was inside.

“I’ve literally just convinced you to be my girlfriend four weeks ago... my family—our family’s been wantin’ this longer.” Jude reasons out, exasperated breath leaving him as he leans against tree bark where you're seated on the bench beside him. “Can’t do that darling, I really can’t.”

“But Camilla's getting married tomorrow and we really shouldn't be spoiling the attention that's supposed to be on them.”

He scoffs at your response, crossing his arms against his chest before pushing himself off the tree and instead crouches down in front of you—proper lad of him instead of sitting down on the empty space beside you really.

He takes your hand, nearly huffing out seeing you roam your eyes around the place as if afraid of being caught.

“Tell me that when you're not tempted to ruin her day just as much as I do and I’ll do it.”

You are. You certainly are. For someone who grew up with you, Camilla wasn't the best cousin to hang around with. She's easy roused with jealousy by the little things she feels like should be hers when it's given to you explicitly. She used to pull your hair when she was fifteen and you were twelve for wearing the vintage Chanel Camellia hair clips your Grandmother has gifted you. She once ruined one of your dress during Jobe’s 17th birthday because you were getting way too compliments for sewing the dress on your own. She also superglued your football trading cards when you were in first year of college because when you hurt a girl, you should hurt her through her most prized possessions, not physically nor verbally. Mental and emotional pain could be worst than those two combined.

So really, you should clap a thunderstorm on her parade but because you're so much better of a person that the rest of her, you've simply stayed put and ignored the snarky remarks and the pointed looks being thrown your way from her.

You grab one of Jude’s hands, cupping his cheek with the other before leaning down to kiss him in the corner of his lips.

“I would love to do that too but I’m not wretched like she is and you know that.”

Jude grumbles before nodding his head, burying your face on your lap as he very much reluctantly agrees to your terms of hiding the relationship just until the wedding bells are reduced to nothing but silence and the awful cousin finally moves away.

“How much longer do we have to keep this up?”

You kiss the back of his head, caressing his cheek on your palm.

“Just a few more weeks, I swear.”

God knows how her fiancé could tolerate your cousin, better yet what went through his mind to actually think that making her a permanent fixture in his life was the good choice.

The loathsome cousin was finally moving away in the next two days.

It was two weeks post wedding when one last intimate party was planned the very last minute before Camilla was to be shipped off.

It was just a small gathering bearing your family, the fiancé’s family and some family friends.

Growing up being good neighbors with the Bellingham's of course they too were to be invited. But unfortunately for you Jude’s been away for a game for the last three days and there's a possibility that he might even miss this one. Good for him. He's really the one holding you sane amidst the unpleasant faux amicable relations between you and your obnoxious cousin during the wedding and the prior events before that.

As expected, hiding the relationship from your family's prying eyes was a difficult feat to achieve. Knowing that even your Nana whose vision you know was already impaired was still keen on shooting you teasing smiles when Jude stood just a little bit closer to your body, hand lingering on your shoulders or back, how much more for the family members who actually has a better eye sight than your 82 year old Granny?

Stirring the spoon in your cup mindlessly with nonchalance as the copious chatter flowed through the air, you were distracted when the door to the backyard opened once more before your Uncle who fetched a few more alcoholic drinks from the store down the road emerged with a familiar tall figure following after him; both of them carrying boxes filled with various tonics.

“Jude! How was the game son?” Your Dad stands up to greet the oldest Bellingham son, patting the boy on the back before Jude greets his own parents who were situated in the seat opposite of your parents’.

“Was good, racked three points in the board.” He replies before greeting everyone else in the table with slight conversations about the game.

You don't say anything to him for a few minutes but you do smile at him when he moves to stand behind your chair, kissing your cheeks like it's the normal thing in the world that you both do—it wasn’t. So the odd, teasing looks from yours and his family was warranted.

“Do you guys have something to tell us?” Your Aunt Kathy asks, amusement dancing in her eyes before her gaze drops down to your palm over Jude’s cheek.

“I think you guys do.”

[keffirinne]

You KNOW I need some more of your Roman/Reader insert stuff, dealers choice my love!

Ahh, I always have something for you!

Actually, it's a warm-up I did for our Roman birthday prompt and the final story went in a slightly different direction, restriced by the characters number, so I didn't plan to post it. But it suits this challenge perfectly I think!

Here you have it!

* btw I love your headcanon about Roman’s big appreciation of morning blowjobs, so I stole/ borrowed it from you!

#smut #NSFW

Learn some patience, Sionis

Roman Sionis x YN

Roman woke up alone in his bed and today this fact bothered him. His body, especially the lower part, was craving for the touch of a woman’s hands and their undivided attention. The king size bed could easily fit three people, he tested that before, and laying here now alone, under the cold sheets, was only escalating the feeling of annoying lonesome. Roman was rich and good looking, he shouldn't have to deal with such common discomforts, reserved only for the poor or hideous. He deserved to be woken up by a blowjob, followed by an amazing orgasm that would put him in a good mood for the day. This annoying state, its undeniable presence in his chest was fueling the frustration. 

Roman reached for his phone laying on the night table, opened the message app and typed a quick text. Its content was short and left no uncertainties.

“Come over. I want to see you.”

As soon as he sent the message, he started staring at the little icon indicating if the recipient has read it yet. Impatiently drumming his fingers against his chest, Roman waited. He hated waiting. 

Normally, all he needed was a phone call and he wouldn’t have to wait. He could have a bunch of girls in his bed in less than 30 mins, all ready for him and willing to fulfill all his whims. They would keep him company for the whole morning, for the whole day even, if he wanted, begging on their knees for more. But he wasn't in the mood for easy pleasure today. 

Roman had everything, so what he couldn’t have, was the thing he wanted the most.

The three moving dots finally started moving on his screen, announcing that his recipient was replying.

“I can't, busy.”

Roman’s lips curved into a small grimace after he read the answer. He didn’t like it. It didn’t stop him though from pursuing his plans. He typed back.

“Cancel it.”

The next message from YN came back quickly. 

“I just said I can't. Use your hands.”

“I don’t want to. Come over.”

“Scroll up - I’m busy.”

“Whatever it is, it's not as important as me.” he typed back. It wasn't a suggestion, it was a clear statement.

Three dots reappeared again and Roman could swear this time they were moving faster and more aggressive than before. 

“I won't cancel it. Why do I have to always reschedule? My plans are equally important as yours, Sionis. I’m not canceling anything.” Roman smirked with the corner of his mouth imaging YN frowning, angrily typing down the words. She definitely huffed at the screen and called him names in her mind. 

He wondered, where was she now? It was early, maybe she didn’t get up from bed yet. Maybe she was still laying in it, naked, the sheets softly tucking her curves. Her nipples hard, maybe she was touching herself just a moment ago, definitely thinking about him. Yes, she was teasing her pussy with her fingers or a vibrator, wanting it to be him. So wet, warm and tight. So easy to please. She always closed her eyes and clenched her toes when she came. Roman liked this fantasy, he decided to stick to it. His cock started to pulse, aroused by the stimulating images. He grabbed it and started stroking it, letting his mind help him pass the time. 

After a while, YN texted again.

“Learn some patience, Sionis.”

She was a tease, she knew how to keep him on his toes. And he liked a good challenge. But he also knew how to handle her. 

He typed again, choosing carefully his next words. 

“I want to see you.”

YN took some time before she replied this time. In the meantime Roman continued to unfold the fantasy he just created in his mind, not sparing any details of its wicked details. He was imagining YN coming through his door any moment now, wearing nothing but a skimpy dress that she would quickly get rid off. Then, she would take good care of him, just the way he wanted. He could almost feel her lips tightly wrapped around his cock, sucking it, milking him till the last drop. As soon as he would come into her mouth, she would asked him to fuck her. Oh, she was so eager. And he would, he would pound that tight pussy till she would cry and scream his name. The grip of his hand on his penis increased, sending pleasant impulses of excitement to his body.

The hot vision got interrupted by the buzz of his phone.

“You'll see me tonight. Now, be a good boy and be patient. Unless you don't want to get your birthday present?”

He smirked at the playful tone of the message but still he wasn’t pleased with “tonight” . He wanted her now. The erotic vision would quickly go past the pleasant, teasing point and would quickly start making him frustrated.

“Come on, doll. I know you miss me. I'll make you feel good.”

“See you at the party :*”

His smile immediately faded when he got her reply.

The irritation mixed with impatience was a bad combination for Roman. Without hesitating, he dialed her number. She didn't answer the first call. He chose her number again. After the second one, he was greeted by a hushed, obviously irritated voice. 

“What are you doing!? I can't talk right now!” she hissed while trying to speak quietly. IN the background could be heard other, muffled voices. It didn't sound like YN was in her bed right now, which spoiled Roman's fantasy a bit. 

“Cancel it. Come here.” he said, not hiding his impatience. 

A heavy sigh on the other side answered him.

“I swear to god, you’re impossible. I said I CAN'T. We'll meet tonight at the party.”

“Where are you now?”

“Tonight, Sionis. Learn patience.”

She hung up after that. Roman let out a low growl, not managing to hold his frustration. 

Who the fuck did she think she was to hang up on him? And telling him what to do?

If he only didn't want to fuck her so much. 

He pondered for a moment whether to make that one call and get back at YN, but it was too late. His mind, like a broken record, had set its sights on one particular target and any attempt to find a substitute would leave him unsatisfied. 

Frustrated even more than before, he tossed his phone away and got up from bed. 

“Tonight”. So what, he was supposed to wait? Roman Sionis didn't wait. He made others wait. 

Oh, she's gonna regret that. He will make sure she'll regret that she didn't come here right away as he asked her.

@supernatural-lover @daenerys-skywalker @hereticpriest

[factorialsotherfandoms]

... not attached to my other post-opc stuff (probably), but! some silly nonsense combining 'thunderstorms' prompt from polyship week with just. throwing a couple of my ships that I usually keep to seperate works together into a polycule to see what would happen. A proper exploration of the dynamics sometime might be fun, but for now...

Rather than explaining, have a little diagram. The polycule network if I'm doing this proper is MUCH bigger, but mini one just for this fic specifically. Johnny-Arthur is dotted as they're not really sure where they stand (also Arthur DEFINITELY would have more branches, but they are not appearing in this fic)

The phone ringing wakes Johnny up. He has been feeling a bit off all day, and so decided lying down was the better option; its not surrender to reduce your chances of face planting into the kitchen floor. Somehow he had fallen asleep, and also manage not to stab himself with the cross-point needle.

It's blunter than the full embroidery ones - he knows not to bring those to bed - but if he's feeling too shit for real physio he might as well do something asked of him.

Delicate movements, visible progress, try to tame shaking and janky hands.

Now he looks the entire ring is missing; Rubens must have checked on him, and set it to one side.

A buzz breaks his attention and - right. Phone.

Ideas slipping. He hates it, but its new.

It is not his phone ringing but Rubens', having been abandoned on the bedside table. Johnny reaches for it anyway - everyone who they want to talk to understands its not Johnny's phone and Rubens' phone, but Johnny and Rubens' phones.

"Hey," he thinks he says, groggy from the interrupted nap. "Who is it?"

"'Sup Johnny" sure enough, Balu takes the swapped phones in his stride. "You two doing alright?"

"I think so?" The question alone banishes… less grogginess than it once would have, but certainly some. "What's wrong? Is everything fine with you?"

"I'm good," Balu hastens to reassure. "Just, there's a storm warning out."

"And?" Why would… that matter? They're not near any waterways, and far enough from sewer grates to not need to worry about them overflowing.

"Migraine pills?" Balu does at least sound amused.

Three years ago, Johnny would have slapped his own head for forgetting that. As it is, he settles on swearing and rummaging around in the drawer.

And if he needs his pills…

"Oi Rubens!" He yells, pretty sure he'll be heard. "You got a minute?"

Balu laughs on the other end of the line, and Johnny pretends to ignore them as he reminds himself which - and how many - pills to take. The box has its own instructions, but inside is a handwritten note from all their experiments before.

Storm, storm, storm…

Remind Rubens to take his anxiety meds, too; Johnny's pills knock him even more sideways, it's just better than without them. Rubens... The lightning tends to bring flashbacks, and with those panic attacks, and Johnny is not going to have the fortitude to help him through it.

He's still reading the note and still being laughed at when Rubens pops his head around the door.

"Johnny?"

"Balu's on the phone for you," Johnny starts with, handing it over and taking the laughter from his hearing. "Says there's a storm coming; could you grab me some water? And you might want your meds too?"

Rubens hums, but does pluck the correct sheet from the drawer. Only once he has done that does he take the phone, putting it to his ear with a "Balu?"

A moment, and then.

"No."

"No."

"Okay?"

"Bye."

Rubens hangs up, and passes the phone back to Johnny. Johnny puts it on the counter while Rubens goes to get water.

It takes longer than Johnny would expect for Rubens to return. He is just starting to worry when Rubens creaks open the door, two glasses in hand. Johnny takes one as Rubens sits down, and together they take their medication.

Only after he's swallowed it does Balu realise that Rubens has changed into his pyjamas and, yeah okay, the pressure changes are already definitely getting to his head. He gives the water a few moments to go down, before flopping onto the pillows.

A few seconds later, Rubens joins him. Half sprawled over him, half tucked into his side, and with a hand over Johnny's eyes.

They both know how this goes by now; Johnny gets comfortable, and places his own hands over Rubens' eyes.

There is little point in speaking as they wait for the storm, so they just tuck into one another. Johnny, on consideration, thinks the best use of time is to fall asleep.

---

It is a little while later Johnny wakes to his bedroom door cracking open. Immediately he is on high alert - no matter the pain, no matter the blurred vision, Rubens is in his arms and nothing should be at the door. It has not been long enough for his meds to properly kick in, but he can push aside the pounding to assess a potential threat. He lies, and he waits, and pretends to be asleep.

And yet, it doesn't come in.

"Hey," a familiar, non-threatening voice says instead. "Balu, Ivete, and I came over. They're making some food, if you're feeling up to it."

Mother Mary, no, he cannot think of anything worse than eating right now - except, perhaps, movement.

And yet, from the kitchen, Johnny can hear the sounds of both cooking and messing around. Laughter and clashing pans, and it's not much good for his head but… he can handle it, far away as the kitchen is.

Wait who is it, he knows them, he's just…

Answer the question.

"We're fine," Johnny says, careful not to wake Rubens as he keeps sleeping on - the lightning hurts Johnny physically, but his memories are far less intense. "just come in, Arthur; I can see your pyjamas from here."

And he can; those trousers are definitely designed for sleeping in, even if hidden by the long coat.

They all know how storms go by now.

And sure enough, Arthur barely waits for the offer. He discards his coat to reveal no shirt at all, and kicks off borrowed slippers as he scrambles into the bed. He squirms into place, pressing against Rubens' back - looping his arm over him and to touch Johnny's shoulder. Johnny shuffles to move it somewhere better, but lets him do what he wants.

Rubens also adjusts, not nearly awake enough to truly understand what is happening, but clinging to Johnny with one hand, and now Arthur's arm with the other.

Johnny shushes him back to sleep, and sees Arthur doing the same.

Their eyes meet, and up close... It gives Johnny a chance to actually assess his condition.

It doesn't look like Arthur's been sleeping enough; his eyes are dark, and movements a little slow. Johnny won't be having that, especially if he can get him to also sleep and so avoid conversation with this headache. He reaches around, pulling at the blankets until they cover him. Once he is done he pulls his arm back, wrapping it back into place around Rubens. Arthur's stays where it was, resting on his shoulder.

Arthur says something, but the movement caused the migraine to spike. Johnny has no idea what he said, and knows that asking for clarification will never work.

"Pyjamas mean sleep," Johnny tells him instead, deciding to avoid it entirely. "Shush."

He does recognise the mouthed apology, and how Arthur tucks himself tighter into Rubens' back. Content this will solve at least two problems, Johnny curls a little more around them in turn.

Arthur clutches at his shoulder.

Johnny… He does not know Arthur as well as he knows Rubens, or Balu, or even Ivete. But he does know that Arthur is a tactile young man, and one who has known the worst of consequences at that. If he's clinging…

Well, Johnny untangles one of his arms from Rubens, using the other to pull him a little closer. He takes that arm and reaches across himself, over to touch Arthur…

He doesn't know how to hold him, is only used to Rubens and his preferences, and so settles for cupping the back of his head.

It seems to get the point across; Arthur relaxes under Johnny's arm, falling almost into putty as he idly tangles fingers into his hair.

Johnny forces himself to stay awake another few moments, just to make sure. But Johnny does not hear more words - sense-making or otherwise - and neither Arthur nor Rubens indicate any distress. At this distance the surely loud laughter in the kitchen is a quiet reassurance, barely audible over the thunder and the rain.

And so, he allows pain and medication to drag him back under, and to sleep.

[ilguna]

Hi quinn! Could I spin the bottle for finnick and # 12 please and again congrats on 2k followers 💛 -🪐

☼ two sides of the same coin (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, starvation, dehydration, death and murder mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 12. First words soulmate AU

notes; why do i always get stuck with first words w finnick?

–

When you had won the Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games, almost nine years ago, you thought that there was no way in hell you’d ever go back into the arena—willingly or unwillingly. Mostly because it was seemingly impossible to go back once you were already a victor. There’s an unspoken rule that no one was to volunteer again, even if you were in the age range, and because of this, no one has ever done it before. The only theory is that it would surely result in death, as the Capitol would want a new victor, not the same one they’d just watched win.

You felt horrible after you won, which might’ve been a first for District One. You didn’t ever want to feel the way you did inside of the arena, ever again. Your mentors and the victors had gloried the idea of the Hunger Games a little too much for the tributes. You knew better than to think that it would be all fun and games, you knew that you were fighting to survive and go home.

However, you were unprepared for how quickly things could go bad.

The beginning of your games was the easiest to swallow. You’re a career, therefore the career pack was an automatic alliance, and getting through the bloodbath was a bitter pill, but it had to be done. It’s kill or be killed inside, and you were planning on getting home at any cost.

You lost one career in the bloodbath, the boy from Two. The five of you hunted for other tributes that night, and then continued to do so for two more days before deciding that you’d had enough. By the end of the week, the Capitol was already bored, so they fucked everything up.

Fifteen tributes left in the arena turned to seven in two days—what’s supposed to be bloodbath numbers happened in the blink of an eye. They’d released mutts, started fires, collapsed buildings through earthquakes, the food molded with some weaponized bacteria that killed several tributes. You didn’t eat, you didn’t drink, and you didn’t dare to stop moving for longer than an hour, terrified that you’d be the next victim in the city's ruins.

The only reason why you were able to keep moving is because you were sponsored food and water, neither of which you trusted completely. You over-purified the water with the droplets, which caused you to be sick the next couple of days, and you had to get rid of it, just to be sponsored more water. The food was a different story. You had to smell it, break it into tiny pieces that you’d consume over hours. A loaf of bread took you three days to get you through. A grain of rice would be split into two pieces to see the inside.

The only reason why you won was because the other final tribute, the career boy from Four, was so thirsty that he gave up and drank puddle water from rain. You found him while you were wandering, wary of traps. He was squirming on the ground, his previously tanned skin turned white as a sheet, clothes soaked from the amount of sweat he was producing. He was as hot as a furnace, and he died from a fever two hours later.

The games lasted a little less than two weeks. You were malnourished and severely dehydrated post-games. The injuries you sustained, little cuts and bruises, weren’t from fighting your fellow tributes, it was from trying to survive the obstacles the Gamemakers kept throwing your way.

There was this girl from District Six that you found at some point while running from the mutts. She was twelve, her black hair was a mess, eyes wide and darting around from paranoia. For the few hours you were around her, she didn’t stop trembling from how terrified she was. You fed and watered her, and she slipped away while you weren’t looking. She showed up in the sky that night.

You couldn’t forgive your mentors for the longest time. Gloss and Cashmere didn’t understand why you refused to eat any food that you didn’t produce by your own hands. They kept telling you that this is reality now, that you’re not inside of the games, and that the food is safe. They’re eating out of the same plates and bowls you are. 

It took a lot of counseling to bring you out of that part of your life, and you’ve been healthy since. And now that you teach at the District One volunteering school, you’re able to explain to the students your experience. They can be lucky and have a good and easy Hunger Games, or they could be unlucky and end up like you for two weeks, three weeks, maybe even four if they drag on that long.

When the Quarter Quell was announced in the winter, there was this terrifying thrill  that shot through your body at the idea of going back inside of an area. It was as cold as ice through your veins, forcing you to your feet, hands pulled to your chest while you listened to Coriolanus finish his speech.

The noise from the crowd was almost deafening, and they would’ve drowned him out, if it weren’t for the fact that he raised his voice to be louder, insisting that you hear the news. There was excitement and outrage throughout the crowd as the cameras showed their faces. Some of the Capitol citizens were bawling their eyes out, others were jumping up and down in excitement, there was a lot of clapping.

You remember the tears springing into the corners of your eyes as you started breathing heavier. Coriolanus Snow finished his speech, and once Caesar Flickerman showed up, going over what Coriolanus had just said, you knew that it was real. There was a good chance that you could go back inside of the arena. You were not done with the Hunger Games, after all.

You shut off the television, the static noise disappearing with it. Silence consumed the room, because it was only you in that big house. You’d lost your family long before your games due to the disease that had swept through the middle class families that often gathered together. The only reason why you weren’t killed along with them was because they shut you in your room as soon as they found out that the disease was deadly.

The Academy kept you on scholarship, and paid for your family home, on the condition that you would eventually volunteer for the Hunger Games. In the case that you won, you’d pay back your debts and teach at the school for a minimum of five years. At the end of that term, you’d be able to continue on your own free will, or just be done with the Hunger Games as a whole. You continued, because it kept your mind busy.

When you had finally caught your breath, you pulled on your coat, shuffling your way out your front door. It was snowing pretty horrendously, yet you still made your way across the street to visit your boyfriend and his family to hear their thoughts. They would help straighten you out, and the insanity that was rattling around in your head.

You felt electrified, you could’ve ran laps around District One.

Gloss was waiting for you at the door, swinging it open as soon as you knocked so he could pull you inside. They still had their television on, but he was in the hallway. Cashmere on the couch, leaned forward to hear every word. His parents briefly checked to see if it was you.

You hugged Gloss as soon as the door was shut.

The discussion that was held inside of that home was never fully finished, it lasted months, up until the day of the reaping. You and Cashmere couldn’t agree on who would be allowed to be the female tribute along Gloss. It would be iconic to the Capitol either way. The brother and sister duo, Cashmere and Gloss or the Sweethearts from District One?

In the end, there was a coin toss to decide. It would be fair, and it would be honored no matter if there was a chance to volunteer to screw it up. You called heads, Cashmere called tails. The coin hit the ground spinning, and when it was done, it landed on heads. You were going inside of the arena.

There were two completely different reasons as to why you and her wanted to go inside. While she wanted to be with her brother for one last time, since he had already made up his mind the second it was announced. You wanted to go back in to experience it all again. To remind yourself why you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do it again.

It took two years for you to recover after you won the Hunger Games, and in the seven years that followed, you never stopped thinking about what it would be like to go back inside. It's a wonder—how would you react the second time? What would you fix and do better with? 

Not to mention, you were a beloved victor, a Capitol favorite for the longest time. You missed the favoritism, just like how Cashmere and Gloss secretly missed it too. The moment it fizzled out and died, you tried to rekindle it, but the newest victors always captivate their attention better than old favorites.

That’s why you had to volunteer, to satisfy the craving that was consuming your body each time you went back to the Capitol. You were watching your tributes go inside of the arena, criticizing their decisions and becoming disappointed each time you were sent home without a winner. The new tributes aren’t what they used to be. District One had three victors in the span of five years. What changed?

You’re ready to change the tide again.

“You’re all set.” Your stylist, Alaida, says, rubbing the last of the glittery body lotion on you. She takes a step back to look you over, nodding to herself in approval, “You’ll be catching the sunlight, and captivating the Capitol.”

She’s a newer stylist for District One, she’s been trying to find her niche and break out of the classic outfits that typically go with the District One costumes. It’s created some drama between her and the District Two stylists, they typically work together to make sure the careers are popping out to the Capitol together, but this year she’s going it alone. One of the prep team members quit during the grooming process, so it's just her and the other member.

You honestly don’t know if you’ve ever seen a stylist get her hands dirty before, but there’s a first for everything, isn’t there?

She’s dressed you in a floor-length white dress with long and loose sheer sleeves that tighten at the wrist. Along the waist is studded with diamonds. Any area with skin exposed has been slathered in the sparkling lotion. It’s not overwhelmingly glittery, but it’s noticeable. She hung diamond and silver bars from your ears, and gently laid a silver heart necklace around your neck.

“Thank you, Alaida” You turn in the mirror slightly.

“You’re welcome, (Y/n). I’ll meet you outside in a moment.” She smiles, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder as she turns to her only prep team member.

You slip out of the door, shutting the door gently behind you. You can feel the cool summer wind on your bare shoulders as you get closer to the open doors. From what you can see, there’s only a few tributes waiting by their horses, and Gloss is not one of them. Alaida must be quick, because the boy tributes are almost always the first one out.

You go wait by the District One horse, and realize that you’re the second career to arrive. The first one being the infamous Finnick Odair, who’s showing a little too much interest in you at the moment. You turn away from him, trying to tell him that you’re not interested in talking to him. You’ve never had one before, and you’re not going to start today.

To be fair, you’ve never been around Finnick to have the opportunity to talk to him. You didn’t immediately mentor after your win because you needed time away from the Capitol, which was an order from Snow himself. When the therapist confirmed that you could do it, then he let you take over mentoring from Cashmere. And at that point, you suppose Finnick was over making friends with victors, because he never bothered to approach you to learn your name.

If you have to talk to a District Four mentor, you always go to Mags. 

Besides, Gloss has told you all you need to know about Finnick. There’s a lot that isn’t his fault, which you recognize, and so does Gloss. However, the rest is nasty, and you were asked to stay away from Finnick if you could help it, especially now. They’re suspicious that he’s been involved with the rebellion, but they have no way of proving it just yet. It’s a better safe than sorry sort of situation.

The slow yet confident sound of footsteps is intriguing enough for you to turn to see if it is actually Finnick, or one of the few other tributes out here. You’re met with Finnick’s stupid face, as his lips turn up into a smile. You look him up and down with squinted eyes, and land on his costume—or almost lack thereof.

He’s practically naked. There’s scrunched up netting at his crotch, and the rest of his body is exposed to the air. You’re terrified to see what the back of him looks like. If he’s even protected, that is.

“Well, don’t you look glittering and gorgeous.” Finnick purrs.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow, “You wish you could afford me, Odair.”

Finnick goes to open his mouth, when he lets out a hiss. In that same instant, you yelp, gritting your teeth immediately after as you clutch at your arm. There's an intense burning under your forearm. You grip your elbow, leaning over as tears spring into your eyes.

You yank your sleeve up when the cooling starts, needing to see why you’re in pain.

You let out a breath when you see why, eyes darting up to Finnick. He’s already staring at you, gauging your reaction. You begin to shake your head to tell him no: you’re not going to be soulmates with him. You won’t do that to yourself if you can help it. 

However, Finnick’s already tilting his head slightly, as if to tell you that you don’t have an option. 

“Hey, babe.” Gloss’ voice breaks the silence, his hand appearing on your lower back. When you see his face, he’s scowling in Finnick’s direction, “I see you’ve met Finnick.”

“He was just leaving.” You say coldly, leaning into Gloss’ touch.

Finnick nods slightly, “I’ll see you later.”

“Or not.” You snap, turning away from him to look over Gloss’ arm.

It’s your luck that you’d be soulmates with him and not your boyfriend. You don’t know how you’re going to hide this from him. It’s written across your arm. You’re screwed.

[e-dubbc11]

Ericca, you sweet, amazing and lovely lady! Congratulations on your milestone! That is so fantastic and you really deserve it ❤️

You've always been so kind to me and such a good friend. I'm thankful I found you, the Beth to my Rip 😆❤️

You know I'm a fluffball, so of course I'd send an ask. I'm also indecisive, so... two prompts for our Billy boy? 😅🙈

“don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine.”

"Nothing makes me more happy than making you smile."

Your Billy will forever be my favorite ❤️

My sweet Sofie, thank you and thank you for sending these in, I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to finally get to this one but I really hope you like it! I love you to pieces and I’ll always be the Beth to your Rip ❤️

What Makes You Beautiful

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: couple of swear words, self doubt, reader feeling insecure about her body, fluff

Word Count: a little over 2K

Summary: Billy and reader are married and have a new baby. Reader is feeling insecure about her post baby body, he reassures her she is the only one for him.

A/N: This ask kinda got away from me, what was supposed to be around 1K words, turned into a little over 2K words so I figured I’d just make it a whole thing complete with moodboard. And thank you Sofie for helping me with the title, I was having a hell of a time. ❤️

Nothing was more picture perfect than the sight in front of you. The sight of your handsome husband asleep on the couch holding your precious baby daughter on his chest, also asleep, was something you were still getting used to.

Billy Russo was a marine, a CEO, a combat veteran, and now, a father. You never thought you would ever see the day where Billy would be content holding a baby. He was nervous at first when you told him he was going to be a father.

He had so many questions, one of them being “Do you think I’ll be a good dad, y/n?” The worried look on his face broke your heart, you could see he was scared, but did your best to put his worries to rest. “Well we’re going to find out, aren’t we. I’ll be right here with you, Billy. I’m scared too, but we can learn together.”

Billy never knew what real love was, he had never been shown, but he eventually learned sometimes the hard way but he did learn. He learned it so well in fact that when he asked you to marry him, it was a complete surprise.

You had never talked about it and weren’t sure if he would ever be ready to get married. Shock and awe are the only two words you could use to describe what you felt that day, tears were shed by both of you but there wasn’t any hesitation in your answer. Of course you would marry him.

That was three years ago, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows but he was the love of your life and you would work hard at keeping what you fought so hard to attain—true love. And he would try his hardest to do the same.

And now the two of you were parents, to the sweet little angel asleep on her father’s chest. With each rise and fall of Billy’s chest, you watched her entire body move up and down, her tiny fist balled up next to her face, and her ink like hair that matched her father’s sticking straight up off of her little head. She was so beautiful, your little Ruby—Ruby Faye Russo.

Being new parents, it was difficult to find time to be with just one another but it was important that you and Billy still did things together just the two of you. It was getting easier to leave Ruby while you went out.

Your parents were always very eager to look after their granddaughter and the Castle family could not come over fast enough if Billy asked them if they could babysit for a few hours while the two of you went out to dinner.

It had been six months since Ruby was born, things were going as well as could be expected with two brand new parents. Ups and downs, good days, not so good days but you had settled into a routine and had managed to make time for you and Billy to go out on dates with each other twice a month.

But there was one thing that had been bothering you, especially for the past couple of months. You still couldn’t fit into your pre-baby clothes and even though Ruby was six months old now, your emotions continued to move in roller coaster fashion about it.

You were constantly questioning yourself. “Does he still find me attractive? What if I can’t lose the weight? Will he leave me for someone else?” Stupid hormones and they finally got the best of you while you were getting ready for a dinner date with Billy one night.

He said he was taking you somewhere nice, made arrangements for Maria, Frank, and the kids to come over to take care of Ruby, and Billy also took care of the baby so you could get ready for the evening.

Wanting to look your best, you went all out. You curled your hair, added a pretty red flower to the side, exaggerated your winged eyeliner, and put on red lipstick. But when it came time to put the dress on that you had picked out, that’s when it all fell apart. It still didn’t fit.

Billy walked into the bedroom after you put your dressing robe back on. “Look who finally fell asleep.” You smiled looking at Ruby asleep on her father’s shoulder. Billy placed a soft kiss on the top of the baby’s head and said “I’m gonna go put her down so I can get ready, I’ll be right back, beautiful.”

Beautiful. The way that term of endearment rolled off of his tongue, he loved you so much. But it was hard to get out of your own head sometimes, and before you knew what was happening, tears had welled up in your eyes about to spill over when he came back into the bedroom.

“Do you think I should wear the gray or the black su—? Hey, hey baby, what’s wrong?” Billy asked. Immediately pulling a tissue from the box on your vanity, he started to catch the fresh tears that fell from your eyes.

“It doesn’t fit.” You said with a hitch in your voice.

Billy’s dark eyes, like two pieces of onyx, gazed at you full of love and concern.

“What doesn’t fit, sweet girl?” He asked and glanced quickly at the dress on the bed. “The dress?”

You nodded. “I still don’t have a lot that fits me right now, Billy. And I keep thinking what if I can’t get back into those clothes?”

He caught a couple stray tears that ran down your cheek.

“Why are you sayin’ things like that? I need to you tell me what you’re feelin’, y/n.” He said.

Billy Russo was a lot of things and great communicator was not one of them but today you were the one that was having trouble getting your words out.

“I—I don’t feel very pretty right now, Billy. And I’m afraid if I can’t lose the baby weight that—that you won’t find me pretty anymore either.” You voice was strained, trying as hard as you could to keep from completely breaking down.

A slight smile crept across Billy’s face. “That’s what’s botherin’ you? Come with me, beautiful.” He took your hand and led you out of the bedroom into Ruby’s room.

When you found out you were having a baby girl, pink was not an option, that’s not what you envisioned. Black and white with accents of red decorated her room with her name painted in red above her crib.

You took a minimalist approach to decorating her nursery, but there was an obvious theme of red hearts and bows. You remembered how you cried after you finished painting her name above her crib because you just could not wait to meet her.

Billy ushered you over to Ruby’s crib, she was fast asleep on her back with her hands above her head, and the two of you staring down at the little angel you brought into the world.

“Look at her, y/n.” He whispered.

Shifting your eyes from his, you gazed down at Ruby sleeping so peacefully. Moments like this were so…perfect.

“Look at what you’ve given me. You gave me something I never thought I would ever have or even want. We’re a family and I love you endlessly. You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me because you make me laugh, you taught me how to love, you accept me for who I am and because you gave me my little girl down there. Not because you can fit into some stupid dress.”

You stood there in silence as he poured his heart out to you, still catching your tears in the tissue and trying to not smudge your makeup.

“I love you too, Billy. So much.” You said.

He cupped your face in both of his hands and smiled warmly at you. “Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine. It’s always going to tell you that you’re beautiful, my love. Always.”

Billy leaned in to kiss you, his kisses peppered your forehead, to your cheeks and finally to your lips. He didn’t care that he had red lipstick on his lips now and you didn’t mind that he had smudged it, it could be fixed. His long arms wrapped tightly around you and he hugged you with such force that all of the air had escaped your lungs.

Little Ruby stirred in her crib but quickly fell back to sleep while you and Billy quietly slipped out of her room and back to your bedroom.

“So can I still take my wife out to dinner tonight? I’ll take you to get a new dress on the way if you want, just say the word, baby.” He said with that perfect smile splashed across his face.

Finally after the tears, you let out a little laugh. “Yes Billy, I’d love to go out to dinner with you. But you don’t have to buy me a new dress, I’m pretty sure I have something else I can wear.”

Of course he was finished getting ready before you, all he had to do was throw on his suit and he was ready so he went to wait for you in the living room while you finished. After fixing your makeup, you found the perfect outfit. A red pencil skirt and a slim fit black top, they both fit and more importantly, the outfit made you feel beautiful.

You were confident as you walked out to greet your husband.

“Hey there, handsome.” You said batting your eyelashes at him, playfully.

Billy looked up from scrolling on his phone. “Holy shit…baby, you look—you look perfect.”

The desire in his eyes as he jumped up to meet you as you walked towards him was all you needed to see to know how he felt about you.

He brushed your cheek with his knuckles as he looked down at you, wanting to kiss you but you stopped him. “Don’t mess up my lipstick again, Mr. Russo or we’re never going to get out of here.” You said.

His eyes roamed all over you from head to toe and then stopped right at your chest. “Actually Mrs. Russo, I was thinking about how great your tits look in this, my god.”

You weren’t expecting his comment so a burst of laughter came from deep down in your stomach but quickly stopped when you remembered Ruby was asleep in her room.

Playfully slapping him on the shoulder, you whisper yelled “Billy, you can’t make me laugh like that when the baby is sleeping!” You slapped his shoulder one more time.

He pulled you into an embrace and just held you for a brief moment. “Nothing makes me happier, than making you smile, sweet girl.” He kissed the top of your head. “I hope our little girl has your laugh, she already has your sass.”

You pulled away and narrowed your eyes at him. “She does not!”

Billy raised his eyebrows at you. “Oh did you forget that she pulled the nurses hair right after she was born?”

You shied away from him a little bit but also you bit back a smile because you did remember, how could you forget? As soon as she was born, the nurse took her from you and little Ruby grabbed hold of that nurse’s hair and would not let go. “She’s got my hair! She’s got my hair!” She yelled. It was a memory you and Billy would always remember and it would always put a smile on your face.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on your door and Frank’s voice boomed from the other side. “Open up Russo’s, we wanna hold that baby!!”

“Well, I think Uncle Frank is here.” You said sarcastically.

Billy looked in the direction of the door and back to you. “Sure sounds that way, you ready for dinner, my love?”

“I am ready, baby. I love you.” You said with a smile. “You better let Frank in before he breaks the door down.”

He smiled and winked back at you. “I love you too, beautiful.” Frank continued to knock, never letting up. “I’m gonna kill him.”

With a furrowed brow and lips pressed firmly together because of the incessant knocking, Billy turned and headed for the door.

“I’m coming, Frankie! Hold ON!”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

[fe-fictions]

do you happen to have more lonqu prompts? if not i’d life to commission!

(I do!! Here's Robin post-birth trying to escape bed rest...and Lon'qu is not having it)

Lon’qu had been a nervous wreck waiting for Morgan to be born. He had chopped down enough firewood for three winter’s storage- no, four. He was pacing and trying not to punch things when he wasn’t chopping, and muttering to himself anything between curses (at himself) and prayers (for you) that everything would be okay…or else.

To his credit, it was a very hard labor. Every time that he asked for an update from Maribelle, you were never quite ready, and when the door was opened for a brief second, he could hear you crying out, inside.

It was absolute torment.

But there is a light at the end of every tunnel, and Lon’qu was soon called back to the house to find that his wife had given birth to a very healthy boy with a strong pair of lungs. All was well.

You would recover nicely so long as you took it easy and got a lot of rest. That was the tricky part; getting you to stay down longer than half an hour.

“What are you doing?”

Lon’qu’s gruff voice startled you from the doorway, your feet halfway shoved into some slippers and the robe lopsided around your shoulders.

You looked a mess. Or, really, a woman who just gave birth to a very small baby that had given you hells in the process.

“I-I just wanted to do some work.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But I’ve got nothing to do while Morgan’s asleep, and-”

“You’re resting.”

“I haven’t finished the letter to Chrom about the tax relief for rural villages-”

“Robin-”

“I promised him a-and Donnel that-”

“Enough.” He strode across the room, set aside the package he had in his hands for all of three minutes, and grabbed your shoulders to push you down onto the pillows.

“Hey!”

“Robin, you just gave birth to our son two days ago. Do you really think you’re in any condition to be doing things?” 

“Not just things, they’re little things!”

“Anything is a thing, and things are things you are not allowed to do?”

“Not even a teeny, tiny thing?”

“Nothing.”

“Boo.” You glared at him half-heartedly, but Lon’qu wasn’t buying it. He pulled the thick blankets over you once more, which you tried to fight off. “C’mon, Lon’qu- it’s May! Springtime!”

“In Ferox.” He countered, tucking you in properly. Of course he wasn’t completely heartless to your pleas, stroking your cheek sweetly before he pulled away.

“Hmm…you know how to keep me quiet.” You mused, relishing the gentle touches of your calloused swordsman.

Lon’qu blushed, sucking his teeth. “S-stop talking nonsense!”

“Sorry, my strong, silent warrior who is incapable of feeling anything but vengeance and seriousness and-”

“If you don’t stop teasing, I’m not going to let you have your gifts.”

“Gifts?”  You immediately perked up. Lon’qu shook his head. “You bought something for me? But I haven’t done anything impressive, and it’s not a holiday.”

“I thought you could use something to keep you busy while you’re on bed rest.” He explained as he retrieved the parchment-wrapped package.

He walked back to the bed and sat down beside you, placing it in your lap. Your eyebrows rose, shifting it around on the blankets.

“This is heavy, Lon’qu. You didn’t spend a lot of money on it, did you? I know how hard you work to make what we have.”

“Price doesn’t matter.  You did something amazing. You made our family real.” Lon’qu replied in a warm earnest, which made your heart beat much faster. “It doesn’t matter what I paid. Just open it.”

“Lon’qu…” You breathed, “I swear, if this is expensive, I’m going to kill you.”

“Don’t. Otherwise I can’t train Morgan.” 

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I’m worried about you hurting yourself while you’re supposed to be resting. Now hurry and open it or I’m taking it back.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as though unconvinced, but went about removing the paper. You tore it off quickly, finding the heavy object to be a stack of books. But not just any books.

“Oh, Lon’qu!!” You held up the top one, “It’s the rest of the book series!”

“I remembered trying to buy you the novels you like when you were still pregnant, but I bought the wrong ones. So I thought I would make it up to you by buying the rest of the set.”

“But there are five that I haven’t read yet, and they’re all- these are really expensive! That’s why I was only buying them once every few months.”

“Well now you have all of them.” He smiled softly, pleased with how thrilled you were. You just shook your head, setting the books (carefully) aside, and wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him senseless.

Even after being wed for two years, having been reunited after Grima for three more, and being the father of your child…he still froze up when you kissed him.

Of course he melted into it quickly, strong arms wrapped firm around your body with a fragile, fragile touch. 

“Thank you, honey.” You whispered when you pulled back, cupping his face. “You’re perfect.”

“No.” Lon’qu huffed from his nose, smiling bashfully down at his wife. “That title belongs to-”

A sharp cry pierced the air, just across the room. Lon’qu bowed his head. 

“…Our son.”

“It seems he won’t sleep for long, after all.” You fell back onto your pillows, “Can you bring him here? He might just be hungry, again.”

Lon’qu was quick to reach his son’s cradle, gingerly lifting him from the little mattress and pulling the swaddling blankets away to assess the situation.

No dirty diaper, no fever, and he had been fed a little over an hour ago. He glanced outside; there was still a good forty minutes before he needed to eat again, if he recalled Maribelle’s advice correctly.

“He’s not hungry.” Lon’qu decided, “And he’s clean. I think…he might just be lonely.”

“Oh…maybe he got jealous.” You responded as Lon’qu returned to your side, wrapping his son right back up in his blankets before handing him to you. 

You settled Morgan against your chest and gestured for Lon’qu to join you. He set the books on your table and sank down beside you. He was a little more tired than he first thought.

“What do you mean?” “He probably heard you getting all that attention after giving me such lovely gifts, and he got jealous. He just wanted to remind Mama who her favorite boy was.”

“He’s less than a day old, Robin.”

“But he knows.” You assured him, resting your head on Lon’qu’s shoulder and tickling Morgan’s little pink cheek. “Baby’s have that sort of sense about them, you know?”

“As if it’s even something up for debate.” Lon’qu muttered, “It’s clear who your favorite is.”

“Is it, now?”

“Clearly, me.” Lon’qu responded with a huff, casting a half-hearted glare at his son. “Since I’m the one who buys all the things you like.”

“So you’re bribing me to get my affection?”

“And it better work. No matter how cute this kid is, he can’t buy anything.”

“He doesn’t have to buy me anything- he’s won me over just being as handsome as he is!”

“Now wait a second-”

“He might be even more handsome than his Papa.”

“…I’m returning the books.”

“W-wait, wait!! I was joking!!”

“You’ve made your opinion clear-”

“Lon’qu I’m sorry, I swear I love you more! Wait, I can’t say that- you can’t make me choose between my husband and my son!”

“You already made your choice, it seems.”

“Oh my gods, Lon’qu come back!” You laughed, struggling to grab your husband’s wrist and pin him in place while trying very hard to keep your baby happy and not upset with all the jostling going on around him.

Lon’qu eventually gave in, returning to your side and grumbling about being second place. Of course it was easily placated when you let him hold Morgan while you took a nap on his chest  as a compromise.

He literally couldn’t have been happier holding his newborn baby in one arm, and his lovely, perfect (annoying) wife with the other.

He supposed it was all right being second place, this once.

[the-writing-trash-panda]

hello, I saw your post earlier :D

For the fanfic prompt ask:

I had an idea that’s been haunting me, namely: httyd - Snotlout and the twins being overly competitive over something (eg card games. These guys would tear each other apart verbally during werewolf I swear)

thank u and have a nice day!

Saturday Night

Fandom: HTTYD

Words: 482

Rating: T

Warnings: swearing, mention of weed/alcohol

Genre: humor

AU: Modern

Notes: they are 21

Also I’ve never played werewolf so I wouldn’t be able to write that correctly (sorry). And I haven’t played Mario Kart in a while so don’t fact check me.

Saturday night was the favorite of all nights among the group of friends. Ever since they were fifteen they would get together at one of their houses and have a sleepover. The night always consists of junk food, games, and pranks. This year however alcohol and weed were a big part of the night. And so things got a bit more wild and a whole lot more competitive, well at least among three of them. Hiccup and Astrid had gone outside to get some fresh air, everyone knew they were actually making out somewhere, and Fishlegs had fallen asleep about an hour ago so now Snotlout and the twins sat in the basement playing a game of Mario Kart.

“Are you fucking kidding me Ruffnut! Another green shell,” Snotlout yelled, nearly throwing his controller across the room.

“This is payback for your banana you jerk,” Ruffnut replied, kicking her friend in the side.

“Well stop using all your items on me and use them on your brother, who is winning by the way! Though how he is doing that when he is high off his ass is beyond me. No wait, he's always high,” Snotlout said, taking a jab at his best friend.

“You’re no better than him, you drunkard,” the blonde retorted, grabbing her drink.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve only had two beers tonight, no three,”

“Oh wow, I’m so proud of you,” Ruffnut said, the sarcasm practically pouring out of her.

“Will you two quit flirting, it’s disgusting,” Tuffnut interjected, his eyes never once leaving the screen.

“You’re disgusting,” Ruffnut said, Snotlout nodding his head in agreement and following up with the snarky reply “Yeah, when’s the last time you showered?”

“Two days ago,” Tuffnut said, though it sounded more like a question. Ruffnut rolled her eyes in disappointment but her mood quickly changed when she got a golden mushroom and was able to win the game.

“Who’s the best, I am! You two are stinky, dirty losers,” she taunted while doing a little victory dance on the coffee table. Tuffnut pushed his sister off the table and threw his controller at her head. “No, you’re just a cheater you little…cheater,” he pouted.

“Yeah, well you gave me a crappy controller anyway. I would have won if I had a good one,” Snotlout added, placing his feet on the table and leaning back against the couch.

“Wow, you guys are such sore losers, and all because you lost to a girl that's a bit sexist don’t you think.” Snotlout scoffed, looking over at Tuffnut with an expression that said ‘What the heck is wrong with your sister.’ Tuffnut shrugged his shoulders, grabbing the remote and turning on some random movie. Ruffnut chuckled to herself before sitting back between the two men and wrapping a blanket around her and Tuff, she sure did love the feeling of winning.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

(un)Catagorized [ii]

Ishgard The Firmament (post capstone)

------

Fourchenault considered the maidservant's words.

"...And this happened when?" He asked.

"A little bit over three years ago, mi'lord. Four if you want to count this year." The blue-haired woman answered.

"And you're certain of what you saw?"

"Yes! It sticks in my mind even now!" The hyur gestured--her hands fluttering like nervous birds.

"Nobody'd seen hide or hair of them for a year! There were rumors--that they were away--helping other Imperial provinces fight for freedom. Others said they were deep in the Empire itself. You had some lot swearing that they'd gone to the New World!" The woman paused, drawing in a breath.

"But I remember what I saw, and I remember that time. House Fortemps always hires on extra hands for the start of the social season." She began, looking up at Foruchenault.

"I was going to bed--and then all of a sudden, the House Steward comes into the servant's quarters. He goes about--knocking on certain doors, getting people out of bed--and telling them to head up upstairs, and bring blankets, do it all quiet-like and hush hush. I won't lie, I got curious about what was going on. I followed the group out of the house to the chocobo stables--and that's when I saw them."

"Them?" Fourchenault prompted.

"Lady Fortemps, the Bishops, Ser Astralyas--the lot of them. And they looked as if they'd been through all the seven hells! The Lady in particular..." The maid trailed off, shaking her head.

"She was bone thin. Her clothes were hanging off her. She could barely walk. The old count had to scoop her up into his arms. Count Artoirel was helping the older Bishop--and two burly men were carrying the younger Bishop and Ser Astralyas. They covered them up with blankets and hurried them in through the servant's entrance into the main house. Next day we're told that one of the guest-wings is off limits, said there was some sort of accident that needed repair-work."

"And nobody questioned this?" Fourchenault asked.

"There were sommant who got curious, but there wasn't time to question. The Season keeps you busy--but I do know know those same servants were the ones that'd go in and out of that wing with trays full of food and medication for battle-mind. Lots of it."

"Battle-mind?"

"I know what the tisanes and potions for battle-mind look and smell like." The hyur countered. "Cook had their hands full-fixing meals for the visiting nobles--and brewing up those remedies. I heard them curse out the House Steward when he offered to get them help. Said she didn't trust any outsiders not to poison the Lady and her brothers." Fourchenault didn't immediately respond, his mind racing.

"How long did this go on for?"

"A month. One day they just showed up in the main hall--acting as if they'd just come from somewhere. They looked better, but the Lady Fortemps was still on the thin side, and there wasn't any sign of Ser Galedancer." The hyur carefully looked around, and then leaned in closer to Fourchenault.

"There was a rumor going around that he'd gone on pilgrimage to St. Reinette. Nobody saw him until at least a few months later."

"Pilgrimage to St. Reinette?"

"When there's a dragoon...that's got a curse." The maid said slowly. "Used to kill them off, but now they ship them out of the city. Keep them with the Dravanians to calm them down and return them to normal.

"I see." Fourchenault mused. This wasn't the information he'd been looking for, but it was useful. There had been a noticeable gap of at least two months in one of the Scions' reports regarding their initial return from the First. It seemed that the battle with Emet-Selch had been more brutal than Riven and the others had let on.

"Do you remember anything else, anything at all that..." Fourchenault trailed off, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

"Anything that sticks out in your mind regarding the Lady Fortemps and her brothers that...just sounded stranger than their norm? If you heard anything, saw anything else?" The hyuran woman frowned, putting a hand to her chest in thought.

"...There's naught much more that I can think of." She said. "But..."

"But?" Fourchenault encouraged.

"Have you gone asking around by the star-seers?" The woman asked. "Rumors were that the Lady Fortemps had quite a lot of business there."

"The astrologians." Fourchenault breathed. "No. I have not. I will make that my next avenue of inquiry." When he could, anyway. For now, he had to leave Ishgard and return to his duties at the Forum.

------

(un)Catagorized [i]

[internerdionality]

Rules: Be gay, do crime

Tagged by @dragonmuse (amen to you, that shade of blue is fucking gorgeous)

Relationship status: married since September 2019 (we didn't know that we were bringing on the apocalypse, I swear). We had a rainbow steampunk wedding at an amusement park on top of a cliff, it was fun.

Favorite color: I'm one of those scary fanatic purple-lovers your mutual warned you about

Song stuck in my head: Ooof, that's hard, there are several, you can check out my Current Earworms playlist for all of them, but in the past few months I've been listening to a lot of Stromae and Alec Benjamin, and then of course Lover, Lover, Lover by Leonard Cohen has been stuck in my head since I wrote a fanfic to it. The verse:

He said, "I locked you in this body I meant it as a kind of trial, You can use it for a weapon Or to make some woman smile."

has been, ahh, resonating with me a lot.

Last song I listened to: Darkside by Neoni (which I started listening to cause it has a Sandman fanvid set to it, you should watch, is good).

Three favorite foods: Duck confit, chocolate truffles, and my favorite restaurant makes these french onion soup dumplings that are ama... Kkay, look, I know how this sounds, but my mother was born in France, she got me started on this stuff early. I'm not a food snob, I swear. (A food domme, maybe, but...) Look, I literally had a fast food burger with extra cheese for dinner.

Last thing I google searched: A hamentaschen recipe (I'm late this year, I know. I was on vacation for two weeks over the holiday and then re-entry was difficult so I didn't really have baking energy until this weekend). I have always been devoted to Smitten Kitchen (who has my absolute favorite challah recipe), but her pastry skills are clearly better than mine because whenever I try her various hamantaschen recipes they fall apart on me. This time I used Tori Avey's no-fuss recipe and they came out much prettier (if, yes, less buttery and flaky).

Dream trip: My college bestie and I have always dreamed of taking two or three months and doing an eastern Mediterranean boating tour. Like, get one of those big catamaran yachts and visit Italy, Greece, Turkey, Cyprus, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Israel, and Egypt. One day when we win the lottery, right?

Anything I want right now: I'd really like a million dollars or so to buy the duplex next door so they don't tear it down and force my family to live next to a construction zone for however long (it'd probably be more than that, depressingly—housing prices are ridiculous here right now—but I imagine if I had a million in cash to put down I could get an offer approved). We just got the demolition notification about a month ago and... yeah. Gonna suck. Plus I've got ambitions of building (more of a) polyam spoonie co-op out here.

Barring that, a licensed contractor in the Denver who can build a wheelchair ramp, is willing to work with the mill levy funding process, and won't ghost me after our initial consultation would be super rad.

Per usual I blathered on here for far longer than the prompts demanded but that's me. Tagging @thetardigrape, @gement, and anyone else who runs across this post and feels like joining us.

[wolviecat]

Running out of luck - Chapter 1 - Wolviecat - The Last of Us (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Day 12 of the Febuwhump, "Can you hear me?"

There is a bonus chapter on AO3 - previous version that run away from the prompt too much, but I love it too much not to post it.

“Fuck,” she said, years of sneaking around in the world full of monsters and the infected keeping her from screaming it out. 

She checked him, quickly, for any bite marks or suspicious scratches, but was more from a habit than an actual concern. It was clear from the first that it wasn't the stalkers or clickers who attacked Joel.

The fungus doesn't tie its victims hands behind their back before they try to infect them.

Joel's backpack was lying just a few steps away from him, the buckles still safely clasped and drawstrings knotted together. It wasn't a robbery, then, and she was sure Joel wouldn't risk his life for a few cans or bullets. Not anymore. 

He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe they just didn't like his face. That sounded about right, given how much they'd tried to beat it into pieces. She wasn't sure she would be able to tell it was him if it wasn't for the cracked wristwatch on his hand.   

Joel had left the KZ five days ago. He was supposed to be back in three. She didn't want to think about how long they kept him, and how long he was here, cold and hurt and covered in dried blood.  

She kneeled next to him, pressing her fingers into his neck. There wasn't much skin that wasn't bruised and swollen, and her own heart was beating so hard she wasn't sure the pulse she felt in her fingertips was truly his. But he was breathing, little bubbles of blood forming on his lips. She grabbed his fingers, shaking him.

“Cmon, Joel, wake up.”

He didn't move, his head just rolling lifelessly to its side. She bit her lip, trying to keep her rising panic at bay.

“I know you can hear me, now wake up!”

She pressed her fist into his chest, rubbing her knuckles over his breast bone. She'd seen medics in the KZ do it, and it worked. Joel moaned - thin, low sound - and opened one of his eyes. Just for a second and just a little, but she noticed how dark it was, the pupil blew up. There was a cut on the side of his head, ugly and gaping, dirt sticking to the blood. Somebody probably had kicked him in the head.

Whoever they'd  been, they'd probably thought Joel was already dead or dying. It had been this overlook that had probably saved him. On the other hand, she was afraid that they hadn't been that far from the truth.

She bit down another swear. If she wanted at least a chance to save him, she needed to get him back to the KZ as soon as possible.

Joel wasn't exactly a big guy, and they’d practiced for moments like these, but still… they were miles away, she could feel his blood trickling down her back, and Joel’s breathing was strained and stuttery in her ears. There was no promise she would arrive back to the KZ with anything more than a body.

She had to try.

 

It took several days before he woke, confused, seemingly without a memory of what had happened to him, unable to stand up straight the first few times he tried. The confusion and vertigo cleared over time as his brain knitted itself together, even if he never got most of the hearing in that ear back.

Memories… he’d never got them back. Or at least, he’d never talked about what happened that day.    

[scyphosunny]

finally ( and not in time ) , vargastober day 2 !! let's talk about it !!!!!

holy shit . where do i even start

okay . sso . my sister does this thing where she books rooms in random pretty hotels just for me and my family to spend time there ? idk not like we travel a lot . so yknow just to enjoy the hotel experience for once . she's done this three times now , and i realized that i don't like it because they get me all stressed and because i don't like being in the same room with the rest of my family for more than four hours lolz

what about this . she booked the room on tuesday , of course . october first . so i had to make the first piece on monday instead ! that's why i did post that one on time XP

we had to go back on wednesday , and doing so always gets me all grumpy and depressed for some reason . I DON'T WANT TO GO TO ANY MORE HOTELS PLEASE I HAVE EVERYTHING I WANT AND NEED AT HOME . so i get home from the hotel , carrying a million things because my mom asked me to and well . god . i'm just stressed , lonely , depressed and overall unmotivated for a reason . HAPPENS EVERY . TIME . I SWEAR . CAN I GET A MOMENT OF PEACE

then my aunt comes by to leave some stuff for my mom . i look like a mess i was literally asleep five seconds ago . she gives me the talk again ( the talk is " oohhh you can't just not do anything you need to do something with your life i'm currently taking a break from school cause of my mental health so yeah the same thing , over and over again . I KNOW I'M USELESS AND WORTHLESS AND WILL DIE BUT CAN YOU LET ME ENJOY THIS PLEASE I REALLY DON'T WANT TO KILL MYSELF ) CAN I JUST DRAW MY MENTALLY ILL MEN PLEASE I HAVE A VARGASTOBER PIECE I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF

she leaves . still not feeling any motivation at all time to watch code lyoko with my sister ! we finished the series a week ago , so now we're watching code lyoko evolution . like many fans , i have opinions . about evo . but i'm also content starved ( and william starved ) so i decided to watch a part of it anyway . so now i'm also watching it with my sister ! if i don't finish it on my own , we'll probably finish it together . . .

then , hanging out with friends ! we're watching dungeon meshi together . i really enjoy the anime , to be honest ! lol every time we finished watching it i would just forget about it for a whole week or until we watched it again . but . . . .. this time . . . ... . i need MORE

into the actual drawing . . . okay this one was hard , which is funny since it's a relatively easy prompt . what about just some fluff . everyone loves fluff . but i was also thinking . . . i wasn't sure if i wanted to make real comfort or FAKE COMFORT !!!!!! i like thinking about these escenarios . edgar being tired sad and vulnerable , he needs someone SO BAD and scri gives him that fake comfort to take advantage of him in some way . something like chapter 18 . i still think about that one so much .

a year ago i made this piece for a video and YES THIS IS WHAT I MEAN , THAT LIFELESS LOOK ON EDGAR AND SCRI JUST GOING TO TRY AND FIX EDGAR IN HIS OWN TWISTED WAY . they're so deliciously painful .

at the end , you don't really need to take the prompts literally ! but still . i decided to go with real comfort this time . or . well . with a little plot twist .

have you read " and you , you can't live like this " ? i also think about this one so much . that last part , where the two of them are just . so absolutely in love with each other . edgar can't understand the warmth he feels when he sees scriabin and decides not to think about it . i mean , i know they're in love with each other already , but GOD this . this is DIFFERENT for SOME REASON .

( nodding silently

okay , what about this . . . i wanted to draw a little scene , maybe just edgar waking up , the realizing scri is like CLINGING ONTO HIM STILL ASLEEP and he just gets these jolts of warmth he described already . IT IS COMFORTING . HE JUST ISN'T AWARE OF IT . i had this incredibly specific reference i wanted to work with . . . i was just a bit worried because i never drew anything in that angle before . and man , as much as i draw there's still LOTS of things i'm still not able to draw ! like certain face angles , poses without a reference . . . i'm getting at least a bit better at the poses maybe but IT'S MOSTLY FACES . i just can't get certain angles to look right ugh

this is the reference i wanted to use ! i found it on pinterest , and the author wasn't credited . . . searched a bit more and someone said it was this person called " black1cherry1 " on twitter . i don't even know if that's the actual artist , but if it is , credits to them . . ?

okay well . i tried ! and failed . i couldn't get the angle to look right . FRUSTRATING

so i changed ideas ! found another reference

( made by the same artist , i think !

a little bit less meaning to it . . . maybe scriabin doing that thing he did on chapter 29 i think ? of feeling edgar's heartbeat while sleeping . uh-huh . great excuse to cuddle , scri .

tried again ! AND FAILED !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

tried harder EVEN . last reference i used i literally just put it on the canvas , scribbled on it a little , got a small sketch and then ditched it . way to go sunny .

so at this point i was like . well . random fluff , then

russlan made a chapter 20/21 piece ! and you know wwhat i think about chapters 20/21 . ( looking at you

got a random reference . . . funny how the drawing just started losing more and more meaning to it as i got new references . I'M SO LAME AND I'M SORRY I'LL TRY TO BE BETTER

didn't even try to work with this one ! wasn't feeling like it . . . so just to make myself feel more productive , i opened a blank canvas and started putting a bunch of ideas together for the rest of the prompts . while doing so , i found a drawing that just went SO INCREDIBLY HARD and i was thinking . should i . should i . should i . sssshhhould i

the piece was a drawing of someone hugging like . a robot . with a bunch of wires connected to it . AND HERE'S WWHERE I GET THE FEEL OF MAKING SOMETHING MORE OBSCURE

imagine , like . . edgar hugging that weird skeleton he found at the start of chapter 28 ( that scene still haunts me at night ) . hugging him because that thing IS scriabin , he needs scriabin and would and DID EVERYTHING HE COULD TO STAY WITH HIM EVEN AFTER KNOWING THE TRUTH AND AFTER ALL THEY WENT THROUGH doesn't it sound yummy and tragic

but then i just had to draw the skeleton and figure out what the fuck he looked like ( i re-read that one part and got chills just thinking about it ) . i'm sure someone already make a drawing of it before but i couldn't find it . so nnope i gave up right after starting . POINTLESS FLUFF IT'LL BE .

so yeah , i still kept on getting ideas together and stuff . I WAS GENUINELY SO EXCITED BY IT , GOT SOME GREAT REFERENCES AND I CAN'T WAIT TO USE THEM ( half of them are horror themed . people on twt are like " oh i love your art , it's so soothing " and i'm like . . . . .. rn ( annd once it was past three am i was like okay whatever i should go to sleep early so i can wake up before fucking 1PM and work on both pieces today ( yes , 3AM wwould be early for me ) so i close csp , get that random window of like , " there's some unsaved canvases do you want to save them " and i was like nuh-uh not like i drew anything , really aside from the fucking list of ideas

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ( i lost everything

what makes me a bit less worried is that i saved the references on pinterest to credit the original artists if i did use them ! so maybe i can just go ahead and do the whole thing again but god . i wasted SO MUCH TIME FOR NOTHING . i was frustrated so i just went to sleep .

( quick thing , i always like to send a good night tweet so hawker sees it and says good night to me . i wwas way too sleepy to write one yesterday .

THURSDAY . woke up at ten , got breakfast , played a bit of geometry dash , TIME TO WORK

just did some research . . . found the pic i used as a reference and it's apparently made by mamefuk on twt ! i searched on their profile and i found the post .

i was just having fun and taking my time with scri's face . sometimes the things i draw look bad because i rush them too much . NEVER A GOOD THING

pretty clothes once again . . . i wanted to put a pretty overall on him but i just couldn't get it to look right :/// which is a shame because it'd look super cute on him .

i used the brush i worked with on the last piece i made , and i kinda regret it because my art is already hard to see ? and once it's colored it kinda just made it worse . . .

TOOK ONE OF YAELOKRE'S DRAWING AS A REFERENCE , the patches on the pants just looked way too cute . ( i wish i could wear clothes like that irl . . . which is kinda funny because my style rn is actually pretty dark

( lolol kinda looks like scri is patting keath's head

guys , i won't lie to yyou . just drawing the line took so incredibly long . i'm really the world's slowest artist .

i got them all nice and pretty by 5:30 . i always struggle choosing clothes for them i want to make them look pretty .

I DID ADD THE YARN ON HIS HAIR THIS TIME

made my colors even MORE saturated because i wanted to give that vibe , sort of . i did have to make them a little less saturated because it looked kinda odd . . . there's something so funny about me STILL listening to the subdigitals three hours later . THEIR SONGS ARE JUST SO GOOD , I SWEAR . I'VE BEEN LISTENING TO THEM MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY .

i swear to god i'd do a whole section here talking about every song they have but it would be like an ad lol

also drew them with socks because i RRRREFUSE to draw feet . no thank you

well , 7PM . you know what that means ? CODE LYOKO TIME

today they aired sabotage , and i'm honestly kind of surprised they aired that one in the first place ? i mean , this scene where yumi gets trapped by vines and . well the scene is kinda weird . but well the only chapter they've skipped so far is cold war . then , we just watched two more episodes of evo . we made jokes and it was fun ! sister finally got to know laura . that fucker .

well , then just GOT BACK TO THE THING rendering rendering rendering

scriabin's shirt was a different color ! idk it just didn't look right . well it kinda does nnnow but

10PM . . . unreal to know that i started working on this at 1 . HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO SPEND 10 HOURS ( with small breaks ) ON SOMETHING

i was getting super distracted too , out of nowhere i just started doing a bunch of these stupid videos

( don't even ask the context of that drawing please

11 , ALMOST 12AM . FINISHED IT . JUST WANTED TO CHANGE THE BG'S COLOR because i didn't want them to be in my usual purple void . maybe a brown void would suit him better .

oh , i was watching an undertale theory video !! something about the true lab and who really wrote the entries we read . it was SUPER INTERESTING and like two hours long . before that , i was watching youtuber drama videos and listening to the subdigitals lol

did the scribbly thing on edgar's pants and well it's fine i think

i want these to look more polished so i'm not rendering hair the way i used to . . . maybe i should go back to the old way

and we have our finished piece ! late , but it's there and finished !

with and without the filter i added . nothing too noticeable . . . just a small amount of blur and something to make the colors a tiny bit more saturated .

look ! a comparison of every pretty drawing i've made of them .

i feel like the only things that changed is the colors and the fact that now i do draw their noses properly

overall . this one was impossible to work with . i still need to make the piece for void but instead i spent an hour and a half rambling

i am also kinda sleepy . . . ugh . it might go away if i draw something i like .

ALSO someone pqrted my post 12 times interesting

this entry wasn't really interesting . . . i'm sleepy . bye

edit : i fell asleep on my desk for a second . yeah i'll try to get yesterday's piece when I wake up

[mrsjellymunson]

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Prologue

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing’s Stranger Prompts, Prompt 1. He shows up at your house covered in mud in the rain, but the problem is, he died two months ago.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter Summary: On a stormy night, an unexpected visitor arrives.

WC: 1.14k

Series C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW. I mean it, if you’re under 18, git! Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes. Eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Swearing. Not much to caution about in this part, unless you don’t like rain, or bad decor.

A/N: This series contains a lot of things I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, lemme know in a comment, ask or message 🙏💗

Next: Part One Part Two

Series masterlist

My masterlist

You’re holed up in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s not exactly remote, but the nearest building is little more than a speck on the horizon so you feel pretty isolated. Owens organised it, explaining it would be a good idea for the older members of the party to lay low for a little while. Nancy had put forward an excellent argument for remaining with her family, but you, Robin and Steve had reluctantly packed up some of your belongings and relocated here. For how long, you don’t know.

It’s no palace. The wood-built building is certainly past its best, the yellowing 50s kitchen barely functional and the faded decor not to anyone's taste. But it’s (mostly) warm, (usually) dry, and most importantly, it feels safe. Which is something you all need after the events of the past few months.

You’re all acutely aware of the obvious gap in your merry band. Owens had insisted that the three of you didn’t attend the funeral, but he’d involved you as much as he could, ferrying messages between you and the kids and Wayne, discussing what he would’ve wanted to wear (you all agreed on his spare Hellfire shirt and leather jacket, knowing he’d never want to be separated from either, plus a brand new, government-funded pair of black 501s), and sneaking mementoes to you with Wayne’s approval.

Mike and Will have taken charge of his D&D paraphernalia, Dustin got his wallet chain (and wears it with literally everything, even his Weird Al shirts and colourful shorts), and Lucas opted for a small pocket knife. You, Steve and Robin each have one of his rings. Steve and Robin keep theirs in their rooms, but you wear the silver skull every day. It’s too big for your fingers, and is even a little loose on your thumb, but that’s where you keep it, spinning it to ease your anxiety, and smoothing the pads of your fingers over its bumpy surface to remind you of the friend you’ve lost. Rueing the fact that you always wanted him to be more than that, but never had the chance to find out whether he felt the same.

The kids visit periodically, even staying over sometimes, nobody expecting anyone to be watching the comings and goings of a bunch of nerdy teens. Nancy drops them off, sometimes staying, sometimes not. On this occasion she’d dropped and run, explaining that she was going to visit Max in the hospital tomorrow, spending some quality girly time with her. Lucas, who usually spent every spare moment by her bedside, was going to spend the weekend here, after Max, still seriously ill but now well enough to communicate, insisted that he needed to spend at least a bit of time with his old friends.

Tonight, you’d had a movie marathon, Keith developing an uncharacteristically generous side since everything kicked off and periodically dropping off and collecting piles of VHS tapes. Not quite generous enough to bring you any brand new releases, but even things you’ve seen before are better than the ‘sweet FA’ you’d have available given the nonexistent TV reception around here.

Popcorn litters the floor and the saggy furniture, as do gangly boys and a long-haired girl. Jane has commandeered the sole armchair, sitting in it cross-legged, and you, Steve and Robin are squashed onto the sofa with an equally squashed Dustin, the latter insisting that there was definitely room for one more.

Mike and Will are on the floor between the sofa and the old, battered coffee table. Mike’s hunched over a bowl of chips that he’s shovelling in, and Will is leaning against your legs, you stroking his hair in a way you know he finds comforting. Lucas is lounging on the floor at the side of the table, his long body stretched out and his head supported on threadbare throw pillows.

The gentle patter of drizzly rain against the windows and roof, and the crackle of the open fire, one of your only sources of heating, gives the evening a cosy feel, though you hope the rain doesn’t get any heavier as you don’t entirely trust the roof over the rear extension to cope with much more meteorological abuse.

You’ve just finished Raiders Of the Lost Ark and Steve has got up to swap it out for The Stuff, when there’s a strong gust of wind and the rainfall picks up significantly. Great, you think, the weather gods definitely weren’t listening to your silent pleas.

None of you notice Jane stiffening in her seat and shifting uncomfortably.

Under the lashing of the wind and rain there’s a sudden noise at the front door. Not urgent, not loud, just two soft thuds. If the kids had been roughhousing or the film had been on you may even have missed them.

You all look at each other, instantly and equally on edge, and all hoping that somebody, anybody, will provide a simple explanation for this.

Steve’s the first to speak. Jaw slack and brow furrowed, he asks the room, “Uhh, did anyone order takeout?”

There’s a cacophony of ‘no’s’ and shaken heads, before another soft thud is heard, just one this time.

Steve steels himself, not for the first time realising that it’s his responsibility to investigate the possibly terrifying, and potentially life-threatening, situation. He stands from his position by the video player and moves towards the door, fingertips skimming the top of the bat that’s always to the side of it, before closing his hand softly around the handle.

He pulls back the sliding bolts before twisting the lock and pulling the door open just a crack, leaving the chain on. The noise of the weather increases in volume, but other than that there’s no indication of what’s on the other side.

Steve has his back to you so you don’t see his eyes go wide, but you do hear a soft, “Wh- What the fuck?”

Robin being Robin, and perpetually thinking about her stomach, she says,

“What is it, doofus? Pleeease tell me it’s Jonathon and Argyle dropping by from Cali with some delicious Surfer Boy pizza??”

“Uh, no, it’s, uh- You know what? Maybe you should just come and see for yourself. Wait, scratch that, just the adults.”

Knowing this will unwittingly pique the interest of the kids more than if he’d just allowed everyone to come look, you and Robin glance at each other before quickly rising and moving to the door.

Steve closes it and takes off the chain, opening it wide as the three of you arrive, the kids following close behind and trying to look between you.

There, hunched, shivering, soaking wet and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

Next: Part One Part Two

Series masterlist

My masterlist

Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts.

Extra tags: @jamdoughnutmagician @joejoequinnquinn

[questinwitchface]

So I have about 45 WIPs right now (about 30 of them are technically fully written, just awaiting that final editing pass and post). So I apologize if my answer gets long, but there are a couple I wanted to talk about because they're close to being done and should be posted soonish (like within the next couple months).

First, the thing I'm probably most excited about: my 31 Days of Halloween event! Around the end of March, I enlisted the help of my beta reader, a friend, and my partner to help me come up with a list of Halloween-related prompts to write fics for, and every day in October, I'll be posting a new fic until Halloween arrives. The fics are mostly SamBucky with some other ships. I'll be sharing more about it as October gets closer, sorry I can't really share more right now. I don't want to confuse people into thinking this is a fan event or something when it's really just a personal challenge for myself.

Second, Sam's Birthday Fic! I started writing this fic back in 2022, and I FINALLY finished the first draft of it a couple days ago. It takes place in the Sappy Names Universe, but it's a standalone fic, so you don't have to read "Pet Names" or "Sam and Bucky Discover that KYJ Is a Thing" in order to read this one. Basically, the plot is that Bucky takes Sam on a vacation to a remote cabin to celebrate his birthday, and spends the entire time spoiling Sam so much. It's so much fluff, and I'm hoping I'll actually manage to post it by the end of this month, but I still need to go back and add the sex scenes, and of course, there's the beta reading process and all, so I may not get there in time, but I'm hopeful. Here's a snippet:

Sam is exhausted from the amazing sex and probably a little from the travel today as well. “You thinking about dinner?” Bucky asks before pressing a kiss to Sam’s shoulder. “I’m not thinking of anything,” Sam answers. Bucky grins. “Good.” Sam laughs. There was a time he’d be embarrassed admitting how good Bucky had made him feel, but that time is long past. “Yeah,” he agrees. Sam shifts, lying on his back, and Bucky follows, rolling on top of Sam, his head on Sam’s chest. “I love you, Sammy,” Bucky murmurs before dropping a kiss to the center of Sam’s chest. Sam smiles. “I know. I love you, too.” Bucky nuzzles his face into Sam’s chest, so it’s kind of muffled when he answers, “I know.” They lie like that for a moment. Then Sam sighs. “I guess we should think about dinner.” “You’re tired,” Bucky says, looking up at Sam’s face. “I’ll get dinner ready. You can just rest on the couch down there. Put on some show.” Sam’s smile widens to a grin. “Season three of Beach House Bachelors?” Bucky sighs a long-suffering sigh, but it’s more for show than it used to be. He’d gotten pretty attached to one of the season three bachelors, Kenny. He swears it’s because Kenny has pretty eyes and has an interest in art, but Sam has seen the look on Bucky’s face whenever Kenny is on screen and shirtless. “Yeah, that’s fine,” Bucky agrees. He drops one more kiss to the center of Sam’s chest and then hauls himself up and off of Sam. Sam stretches and then crawls out of bed himself. Sam finds underwear quickly, and he turns in time to see Bucky holding a T-shirt. “Leave your shirt off,” Sam says while he slips on a pair of comfy sweatpants. Bucky turns back to him, frowning. “Why?” Sam grins. “Because you’re sexy with your shirt off,” he answers. Then he puts on an old T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. “But you’re wearing a shirt,” Bucky says, his frown turning just this side of pouty. “That’s no fair.” Sam steps close, sliding his hands up Bucky’s chest. “Look, if you want to tell me not to wear a shirt on your birthday, I’ll gladly do that for you.” Bucky grins. “Yeah?” Sam nods, keeping his expression serious. “Yeah. If you’ll wander around shirtless on my birthday.”

Third, The Grease AU! I've written a SamBucky, Sharon/Natasha, Kate/Yelena/Joaquin, Steve/Thor Grease AU, and the first draft has been complete for months, just waiting on beta readers to get back to me with feedback so I can get the revision process started. Tbh, this one isn't meant to be taken too seriously, it's meant to just be a fun fic for me because Grease is a comfort movie, and these are a few of my comfort ships. Idk if I'll even actually post this one because I feel like people expect more "serious" works from me, and this one is just silly. Idk. Here's a snippet from the "First Day of School" chapter:

When lunchtime rolls around, Thor, Sharon, and Loki claim their usual table outside. Thor grins at Sharon. “Did you see Bucky in English class?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in a sort of faux-innocent expression. “He’s looking pretty good this year, isn’t he?” Sharon scoffs. “That’s ancient history,” she says firmly. “Well, history often repeats itself,” Loki needles before taking a bite of their macaroni. Sharon glares at them for a moment. “Did you see anyone interesting, or have you been around with everyone already?” “Been around with everyone already,” Loki answers shamelessly with a small frown. Then they look at Thor. “Maybe this is the year you finally get with Steve, huh?” Thor sighs. “Maybe.” “Hey everyone!” Joaquín says, coming up to the table with Sam on his heels. “This is Sam Wilson, he just moved here. Sam, these are the Pink Ladies. This is Thor, and that’s Loki, and this is Sharon.” “It’s nice to meet you all,” Sam says with a smile. Sharon looks Sam up and down, her expression unimpressed. “Charmed,” she says flatly. Thor scoots down the bench so that Sam and Joaquín can sit. “So how was your summer, Sam?” Thor asks. Before Sam can answer, there’s a commotion from nearby. Sharon glances over her shoulder and then groans. A moment later, Scott appears next to her. “Hi!” he greets with a huge grin. “You’ll never guess what just happened!” “Probably not,” Sharon says flatly. “They just posted the ballot options for student council, and guess who’s up for vice president?” Scott asks. Sharon glances at Loki. “You didn’t tell me you were running for student council.” Scott’s face falls. “Oh, I’m not running,” Loki says, wrinkling their nose. “Besides, if I ever did, I’d be going for president.” “That’s true,” Thor agrees. Then he grins and shares a look with Joaquín. “Can you imagine Loki as student council president?” “My first order of business would be addressing the restrictive nature of our dress codes,” Loki announces.

Hello Sambucky fandom. I'm too tired to write anything myself so I want to hear all about your favorite WIPs or recent fics you want to talk about. Taglines, synopsis, excerpts, anything you want. I'm craving some sambucky tonight (and every night) and bite sized chunks are about all I can manage right now

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Pretend Marriage

@aurorastream I didn’t follow the prompt exactly, but here we are!

Author’s Note: Woo!! I asked for prompts, and I got prompts, and then this took forever to get out. Not that I didn't like the prompts, or that I didn't see them, but I really just have terrible timing. Not even an hour after I asked for prompts and everything seemed to go wrong and I had to focus on fixing my online school stuff, and all that stress does not bode well when you're trying to just destress and write cute scenes of the babies being babies! That's all I wanted! And my brain was like 'no, we're screaming internally instead'. 

Things are sorted now, and I'm feeling so much better! Everything is back under control and I was able to write this! Quite the turn around, considering I went to bed last night with a stress-induced headache and *this* close to sobbing.

Anyway! This was just the break I needed now that I actually have free time back. 

(I didn't quite follow the prompt exactly, because I do want them to have a proper marriage, but I definitely thought it would have been hilarious)

Summary: Claude needs a marriage for a scene.

“Okay, I’m going to need one of you to pretend to be a child emancipated from their parents, and one with nice parent-”

“I’ll be emancipated!” Marinette interrupts Claude.

“We haven’t even started, and the plot twists are already in full swing,” Allegra says.

“Shhh, I just want Adrien to have caring parents.” Marinette pushes him toward her parents.

Tom hugs him. “My son!”

Adrien looks like he may die of happiness.

“Fair enough,” Claude continues, “But we still need you guys to get married-”

Marinette looks at him suspiciously, “Are you just trying to get us married now so we can’t sneak around you for it in a few years?”

Claude narrows their eyes. “Depends. Are you going to try to sneak around me?”

“What they mean,” Felix interrupts, “Is ‘no’, because your parents have not signed their permission for you to be married at this age.”

“This is Claude we’re talking about though.”

“It’s also the French legal system,” Allan adds, “and Claude is a teenage boy.”

Marinette makes a ‘watching you’ gesture to Claude, while Allegra pushes her towards where she’ll be changing into her outfit for her ‘wedding’. He just sticks her tongue out at her.

“Anyways, Allan, as mother of the bride-”

“You bet.”

“You get to give away your daughter, because because. That is the reason.”

“‘Because because’,” Allegra parrots under her breath, rolling her eyes.

They gasp, pretending to faint. Felix catches him and Claude continues, “Ally! Do you have an objection to this union?!”

“I object that I wasn’t consulted on your choice of flowers sooner!” Chloe enters the room, carrying a few bundles of flowers with Sabrina’s help.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one with eyes,” Felix huffs, “The floral arrangements were not at all fitting for such an occasion.”

“I was working with what I had.”

“Well thank goodness that I’m here to upgrade what you had.”

“You’re very much appreciated, Queenie.”

“Also, why can’t me and Allegra get married?” Chloe whines.

Without missing a beat, Allan says, “Because you already would be. Given the pacing of your ship and their ship, come on.”

“Adrinette is a kayak,” Allegra adds, “We’re…”

“A yacht.” Chloe sets her flowers down and leans into her girlfriend's arms.

Sabrina shakes her head. “You people and your romantic relationships.”

“Love you platonically too, Sabrina,” Marinette teases, re-entering the room, now in a white dress.

Sabine sighs happily, putting a hand over her heart. Tom tears up, and she hands him a tissue.

“Maman, Papa, you’re my in-laws, and this isn’t even my real wedding day.”

“Tell that to Adrien,” Claude snickers.

The boy is staring at Marinette, his face bright red and eyes dilated.

“I’d say he does.” Allan laughs.

“In that case, ‘I do’ too,” Marinette giggles.

---

Author’s Note: I kind of wanted to make it longer, but couldn't think of how to do it, and I was like 'Panda, stop stressing and just post it, you're fine'.

Panda signing off! Stay safe and wash your hands!

Edit: For those of you wondering about the sandwiches survey results, I have a question! There's approximately 40 responses now. When I posted the responses for the others, there were over 100. Would you like me to wait until there's 100 (I doubt that), wait until there's 50, or just post them sometime tomorrow (it's a bit late tonight).