#i want to think of a better prompt than this but this is all i got

[httpsdana]

Heyyy, love your work🤍

would you write one of Yildiz and reader being in an argument and reader crying because of the accumulated stress(happend to me today, sm alike:(

Breaking Point~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: im so sorry you're feeling like this :( hopefully this can make you feel a bit better <33

It started so stupidly. A left dish in the sink, and now both of them were just yelling nonsense at each other.

"I'm always the one who has to do every single thing in this house! You never help with anything!" she yelled, throwing her arms in the air.

"What?" Kenan snapped back. "I'm always trying to help, but you're too damn stubborn to tell me what's wrong!"

"Nothing's wrong!" she said through gritted teeth.

"Listen, if something's wrong, you have to tell me, because I can't read your damn mind," he said, his tone lower this time.

Tears welled up in her eyes quickly, and before she could stop them, they started falling down her cheeks.

Kenan noticed immediately, stepping closer and cradling her face in his hands.

"Hey, hey, don't cry, baby. It's not worth it," he muttered, confused by her sudden breakdown.

He let her cry into his chest for a few minutes, full sobs and hot tears streaming down her face.

After a while, she calmed down a bit and pulled away from his embrace. When she tried walking away, he was quick to pull her back in.

"Hey…" He cupped her cheek, making her look up at him. "Tell me what's really wrong. I know you're not crying over an unwashed dish."

She shook her head, then let out a long sigh.

"I'm just very stressed, and everything has been accumulating. I feel like a failure," she took a deep breath before continuing, "and nothing I do seems to be enough. And now you probably think I'm dramatic for crying over this-but I'm just so tired, Kenan," she mumbled, her eyes welling up again.

Kenan felt his heart shatter at her confession, cursing himself for not noticing how she'd been feeling earlier. He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin.

"First of all, you're not a failure. You're the most successful woman I know," he said, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

"Second of all, you're more than enough, my love. You have no idea how amazing you're doing, and I'm so proud of you and every single thing you've accomplished," he added, kissing her other cheek.

"And finally, I don't think you're dramatic. You've been under a lot of stress, bottling everything up without telling me. It's my fault I didn't notice earlier, and I'm so sorry. But I promise you-none of the things you said are true. You're so strong for carrying all this weight alone. But let me help you carry some of it now, okay?" he said softly, pulling away to look at her tear-stained face.

She nodded hesitantly before wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," she mumbled against his hoodie.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for leaving that dish unwashed in the first place and not noticing how you’ve been feeling," he muttered against her hair, brushing his lips against the top of her head.

They stood there in the kitchen for a while, just wrapped in each other’s arms and enjoying the silence.

"I love you," he whispered, as if his voice might break her even more.

"I love you more," she whispered, pulling back just enough for her lips to graze his jaw.

He leaned down slightly, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, tender kiss, one that whispered 'I'll always be here'

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[velaris-fic-repository]

Late For Dinner

@sjmxreaderweek May 5th Prompt: Friends/Family

You were a wreck to say the least. Had been for the past week or so. Your reflection frowned back at you from the vanity, seemingly in agreement about every little wrong thing you spotted.

First impressions had never been your strong suit, and the one you were gearing up for was practically the biggest one of your centuries long life.

This was Cassian’s family. The most important people in his life! His friends. His brothers, one of which, you constantly remembered, was your High Lord.

Right. Totally casual dinner. Nothing in the world to worry about.

It’s not like you were terrified they’d think you looked sloppy. You weren’t horrified to think they may shun your basic profession and simple means. You hadn’t lied awake at night dreading the possibility that they’d think you, simple you, weren’t enough for the Night Court’s General. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t unfortunately thought the same of yourself.

You didn’t have much longer to stew in those unfortunate feelings as a large and familiar form filled the space behind you.

“Hello gorgeous,” Cassian said, stooping down to kiss the top of your head before spinning you around in his arms. “You look stunning.” He kissed your cheek before saying, “we might not make it to dinner…”

Self-conscious and not wanting to delay your feared event to a later date, you lightly swatted at him. “Stop it.”

Taking your actions as playful, he grinned at you as you scrutinized your appearance. “Would that I could, sweetheart.”

He kissed your neck but you shooed him away again, struggling with a flyaway hair you’d noticed.

Finally, Cassian’s expression changed to concerned contemplation. He was more perceptive than many gave him credit for. He’d noticed your deteriorating mental state over the course of the week. He knew you would be nervous and had done just about everything in his repertoire to distract you from it. Clearly, he should have changed tactics long ago.

“Sweetheart?” He was well versed in physical combat, but fights inside the mind, ones he could not fight for you, hurt his ever-loving heart. He could pour his love for you out in bucketloads, and often did, but if you didn’t accept his words for the facts they were, there was little he could do.

He sat beside you and cupped your cheek, forcing your vision up at him. His puppy dog hazel eyes poured their concern out to you, and as much as you wanted to handle this matter yourself, to not burden him with it, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay silent.

“What if they don’t like me?”

Cassian’s heart melted on the spot. How could you think such a thing?

He kissed your forehead softly, eyes practically in heart shapes as they looked at you, and he said, “They’re gonna love you.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better - which I appreciate - but I just-“

Cassian kissed you, cutting off your statement.

“What was that for?”

He grinned softly at you, “You’re adorable when you say such irrational things.”

“Cass, it’s not funny! This is your family! I want to make a good first imp-“

He kissed you again, “and you will.” You scoffed but he continued, “I don’t have Rhys’s abilities, but I promise you sweetheart, if I did I’d take all those insecurities away from you. I don’t like seeing you hurt, especially when you do it to yourself up there.”

“Cass,” you say, kissing him quickly.

“Hey, think about it this way,” he said, “you charmed the pants off of me figuratively - and literally - just by being yourself! They can’t help but love you!”

That brought out the laughter he loved so much. “Not sure,” you said between snickers, “I want to do the latter half again.”

“You’re pretty irresistible, I don’t know,” he said.

“You realize that you’re implying your brothers may try to steal me from you, right?”

“I’m not worried,” he said, leaning back and stretching his wings out.

You raised an eyebrow, “and why is that?”

He curled around you quickly, wrapping you up in his arms and wings, nothing in the world except the two of you.

His breath coasted along your ear as he said, “Because I’m the one who knows what you like.”

Your breath would have hitched had he not blown a raspberry behind your ear a second later, fingers moving to tickle your sides.

“Cassian! Stop!” You demanded between bouts of laughter.

“Never!”

“We’re going to be late!”

Cassian’s ministrations eased away before he kissed your cheek again, slowly. “They can wait.”

“I still want to make that good first impression,” you reminded him with a genuine, unworried smile. “Something tells me being late isn’t going to accomplish that.”

Cassian continued to pepper quick kisses wherever he saw fit, “you’ve forgotten something, sweetheart.”

“What’s that?”

He stopped kissing you to look into your eyes, love pouring out of them, “Maybe I don’t want to share you yet.”

You smiled at him, cupping his cheek. “That’s very sweet.” You leaned in slowly, taking your time, before pulling away entirely and leaving the room. “But we have to go.”

“What?” Cassian whined, a broody male when unkissed, and followed after you.

At the door, you winked at him, “If you want desert, you have to go to dinner first.”

Despite the teasing you’d done to him, Cassian couldn’t help but smile as he followed you out into the streets of Velaris.

You were your smiling, less nervous self again. Mission accomplished.

[garciasgirl]

something, somehow, someday..

୨ৎ summary : you and spencer have a deep connection, maybe deeper than the both of you thought. when you go to comfort spencer at his apartment, feelings and confessions are shared…

୨ৎ warnings: mention of addiction (spencer), minimal swearing, small mention of spencer’s parents, kissing.

୨ৎ a/n: this is based of the song something, somehow, someday by role model. a song I’m currently obsessed with so yeah!! also sorry if this is bad I just started to write a bunch of words.

୨ৎ wc: 838

spencer reid was smart, but he was perfect.

in fact, he was anything but. he didn’t share it with many, but he had countless imperfections. some that others may have not focused on. but he did.

firstly, he had battled an addiction. an addiction that caused him to push everyone away and act like a total idiot. he was sometimes rude, abrasive. he had an absent father his entire life, and a schizophrenic mother whom he loved dearly, but struggled to take care of. he wasn’t sure he was the type you would go for..

you were kind. you radiated sunshine, and happiness. while spencer had a aversion to social media, you posted frequently.

and he may of downloaded countless platforms just to see them. every picture, every selfie of you, you held up a peace sign, bright smile on your face.

when spencer was battling his rough addiction to dilaudid, you were so comforting, he didn’t want to push you away. he wanted to pull you closer. you were a welcome sign. even when he struggled to communicate that.

but spencer didn’t need to be perfect at communicating, because you knew him. you knew what he was like, and how he was feeling. you were a profiler, after all, you were good at reading people.

every day that spencer seemed off, or upset, at work. you went over to his apartment. spencer didn’t tell people when he wasn’t doing the best, therefore you had to infer.

and tonight was one of these nights.

he made you feel a certain way, a good way. and you thought; maybe, he felt the same way.

even if he didn’t, you couldn’t help but care for him.

in a way, you believed the two of you were meant to be. something, somehow, someday.

you knocked on spencer’s door twice, waiting for him to open.

when he did, he had a confused expression on his face, until he saw yours, and it softened into a more neutral one.

“hey..?” he started, his voice quiet.

you smiled, “hey, spence, can I come in?”

he nodded, moving out of the way slightly so you could slip inside. the two of you made your way further into the apartment. ending up in his living room.

when he sat down on the couch, you followed. starting your mild interrogation. “so..im all ears, what’s bothering you?”

he looked up, letting out a small scoff. “nothing, why?” he responded, closed off. you looked at him pointedly.

“don’t lie, spencer, you know I can tell.” in which he sighed, it was true, you could tell.

“I’ve just been out of it lately..thinking too much but not about anything valuable.” you listened, intently. only focusing on him and the words he was saying.

“is that all..?” you prompted, not sure it was. he sat for a minute, before shaking his head. “no, but..it’s hard to explain.” he murmured, not wanting to talk about it.

“I can listen.” you confirm, allowing him to continue.

“i can’t stop thinking about you. it- it sounds pathetic i know,” you go to tell him it doesn’t but he cuts you off.

“just..let me explain. whenever I feel not myself, if im sad or just..not right. you know. and I know we’re profilers, but, when you know you ask. you come to me, you care for me? and, I just don’t understand why? when you first joined the bau.. I was deep in my addiction.”

he sighed taking a breath, “and for lack of better terms, I was a dick to you.”

you laugh softly under your breath, Spencer swearing was always something that never failed to amuse you. he huffed out a laugh in return.

“I just..I want to know if im reading to much into this, or if..you feel the same way I do.”

his shaking tone and words alike make your head snap up, before you ask.

“how do you feel?”

he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth.

“like im really fucking in love with you.”

you can’t keep your eyes from widening and your breath from hitching in your throat. your response throws spencer off, he can’t tell if he just ruined everything or not.

he starts to ramble out, “im sorry, I didn’t mean to push that onto you, I know that’s not what you were expecting..”

“spencer..”

“I promise I don’t except you to feel the same way, it’s okay if you don’t, you probably don’t…”

“spencer, I-“

“I really hope this won’t ruin our friendship, I would really hate for that to happen because of my stupid mistake-“

you didn’t let him finish, smashing your lips on to his, he freezes for a minute before melting into the kiss. placing his hands on the sides of your cheeks, pulling you closer and holding you into him.

when he pulls back, he doesn’t say anything. just stares at you with heavy lidded eyes and racing breath.

“does that answer your question?”

you ask, he stops, shaking his head.

“not sure yet..”

he says before yanking you back in.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Sir

@wolfstarmicrofic May 2, word count 528

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Dumbledore came about a week after Remus and Sirius had moved into the Potters. It would be a full moon that night, and Remus was on edge. 

Dumbledore kept glancing over at him. Remus could feel his jaw tighten every time. Every hair on his body was standing up straight. He needed to stop being scrutinised. Harry came over to him and scrambled up into his lap, flinging his short, pudgy arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose into the delicate skin over his pulse point. Remus felt the tension leave his body. Harry was excellent at calming him down. Far better than Sirius or Lily and a thousand times better than James. Bless him, he tried, but he tended to make the issue worse.

“I think it best that you come with me, Mr Lupin, and visit the pack in Exeter. I have had an owl from their pack leader, and he is keen to meet with you,” Dumbledore was saying. Remus gritted his teeth again, but Harry stroked his hair, and Remus relaxed again. 

He stood up and swayed with Harry in his arms, finding it soothed them both. 

“No,” he told Dumbledore firmly. “I have already told you I won’t do that any more. You’ll have to find yourself another pet werewolf to do your bidding.” He kept his voice even for Harry’s sake, but really he wanted to let Moony take over and snarl and spit at his old headmaster. The man never listened if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. 

“We’ve got the woods all set up for him. He’ll be perfectly fine there. We know how to help Remus in his werewolf form.” James took over. 

“Besides, it’s safer not to have Remus coming and going on a regular pattern. I’d say the full moon follows a pretty regular pattern, wouldn’t you say, Professor Dumbledore, sir?” Sirius added, but to Remus’s ears, he could hear the touch of disrespect he’d laced into his words. Dumbledore apparently couldn’t detect it, or he ignored it. 

“As you have it then,” Dumbledore sighed in disappointment. “I shall return in the morning and check that you are all safe and well,” Dumbledore stood, and moved towards the door. “Oh, and thank you for the gift you added to the secret you gave me, Mr Black, a warning next time if you may, a rather valuable book now has scorch marks across the cover from where the paper exploded upon it. At least I had time to read it,” with a sweep of his purple robes, he was gone. Sirius stuck his tongue out at him as he took Harry from Remus’s arms. 

“Wish I’d never given him the secret,” Sirius huffed. 

“Someone needed to know so they could check on the house and bring us things,” James reminded him. 

“Should have asked Mary,” Sirius continued to grumble. Remus felt suddenly exhausted and excused himself to go lie in the sun outside. Dumbledore was going to keep coming back and trying to convince him to visit the packs again; he just knew it. He thought as the warmth of the sun lulled him to sleep. 

Part 12

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a speedster and dating Peter Maximoff

Peter Maximoff x reader

warnings: blood/injury

a/n:

prompt:

the world moved in slow motion…

oh, literally

you and peter were usually moving around the same speed. it took a while, but you guys learned to line up with each other when you moved

some said it was annoying, others said it was romantic

you couldn’t find a better way to live life

you initially met in the 70s during a pretty intense plan to break into the pentagon and free magneto from incarceration

you were a ward of professor xavier and peter was the mischievous boy you’d fallen for at first sight

“hey! no” -logan, swatting you on the arm as you zoned out when you’d first met peter

logan, who knew one possible future and might have known whose fates intertwine for better or worse

but the warnings of the man leading you and essentially your family into what could be a massacre didn’t exactly find you well

you quickly sped up and peter followed suit

“whats a place like you doing in a mutant like this?” -peter, jokingly

“yeah, yeah, you heard them” -you, smirking at not only him but the opportunity to do something like this “have you ever…been able to do this?”

“do what? talk to another person while im going fast? no, never had the chance. this is really cool. we should do it again sometime” -peter, rambling

“maybe we can if you listen to the old guys. from what the guy with the weird haircut has told me about you, we’ve got an offer you cant refuse” -you

“oh yeah? how does he know anything about me?” -peter

“from the future or something, still trying to make sense of it—hey, man, can you spare a twinkie?” -you, pointing to the wall of boxes

“take a box…” -peter, falling for you already

you sped to a box and ate while peter ran circles around your crew, the fact you were still pining after him drove charles and hank insane

and all peter wanted to do was impress you

“y/n, everyone in the world and you’re interested in the kleptomaniac. can you maybe reevaluate?” -hank

“no, i don’t think i will” -you

for the boy that agreed to help for free, they sure did want to steer you away

you gave him your number before you went your separate ways, but duty called

“well, i know where to find you” -peter, holding up the business card for the xavier school he lifted off charles when you’d all met

it’s only about 500 miles between you two, takes maybe 10 minutes

it took maybe a week for you to catch his calls, but he knew you were busy

the day you finally called back, he was bouncing off the walls (literally)

“hello?” -ms. maximoff

“hey, ms. maximoff! it’s y/n, we met last week” -you

“PETER, ITS FOR YOU” -ms. maximoff (less than half a second later the phone had vanished from her hand

“y/n! i was expecting your call ever since i saw magneto on the news, how’s it going?” -peter, pacing around the house tangling the phone cord around every single thing he could find

“pretty good, i’m still alive! lunch sometime?” -you

charles was “listening” btw but both of you were talking in superspeed so all he could hear was “MEEMEEMARNEEHLININAM” or like some other really squeaky nonsense

“how about now?” -peter “i’m down to visit new york”

“works for me!” -you, hanging up and immediately rushing to get ready

you guys got each other like no other

never wore each other out

some people told you to “slow down” but they didn’t see the world from your point of view

speed was a good thing when two people experienced it together

“hey, wait. too fast, i cant understand you” -you when peter got excited and started talking fasted than you were going

sometimes you would slow down, when the moment called for it

and peter got a little restless

ok you both did

“this is so boring, lets shoplift” -peter

“peter!” -you

“pleaaaase?” -peter

“…where are you thinking?” -you

oh yeah charles did not like his influence lol

“y/n, i know you have something in common that very few could have, but him?” -charles

“uh, yes him, do you hate happiness?” -you

“no, i just mean that—really, y/n? it is not because i left moira!” -charles

“don’t read my mind!!” -you

“it was loud, like you wanted me to hear it” -charles

“don’t make excuses” -you

peter looooveessss gossip

especially when the school reopened and you decided to take on a class to teach and become somewhat of an RA

“ohhh, my god. one of the kids called hank ‘blue balls’ and the whole class started screaming laughing and i was trying sooo hard to be professional—how do you say ‘shut the fuck up’ to a fourteen year old in a professional way? i am stumped” -you

“‘shut the fuck up’” -peter

“you’re so right” -you

peter would visit the x mansion pretty often while you were working

brings you food and gifts and such

“did you steal this?” -you

“want to see my receipt?” -peter

“yes.” -you

*patting pockets* “i think it fell out” -peter

he gives lotta kisses

LOVES to dance but only fun fast dances where he can spin you

like if there was a dancing contest you would win

you like the slow dancing tho so you can be close to him

peter cleans your room for you while youre working

“one of the kids set fire to a desk today” -you, exhausted

“but at least you have a clean room!!” -peter

he will get very competitive about arcade games

he will NOT take pity on you

sore loser

big baby

oh, what about you? if you can’t take it then dont dish it out!!!!!!

“hahah, i beat your high score” -you

“NOOOO” -peter, who wont stop playing until he gets the high score again

you guys race

he WILL trip you to get a head start

peter luvs to share his music with you

he sings but just in front of u

when you fight, its over fast (bc you talk fast)

*more fast forward voices sounds*

jubilee once tried to record it and slow it down but it didn’t work

peters mom loved u but she was SOOOO exhausted by speedsters

“at least you clean up after yourself when you’re here” -ms. maximoff after you do the dishes for her

making peter’s sister dizzy by running around her

(she wants to be fast too)

peter fake proposes CONSTANTLYYY

you might kick him over while he’s on one knee if he ever does it for real

when the x mansion blew up, you and him were quick to evac the mansion

“are you okay?” -peter, checking you for injuries

“as okay as you are, what the hell??” -you

you were kidnapped together <3 nothing says romance like being trapped in a cage together

peter’s confession that erik was his father was a surprise to you

“WHAT?! you never told me that!!” -you

“it didn’t seem important” -peter

“oh, it didn’t seem important that your DAD is charles’s best friend who we literally BROKE OUT OF PRISON” -you

“not really” -peter

“you getting any of this?” -raven (you were speed fighting)

“not a thing” -hank

“this happen often?” -raven

“comes with the mutation. they’re lucky they found each other. nice to have someone that gets you like that” -hank, side eyeing raven

regardless of that BIG FUCKING SECRET being casually dropped, you guys took apocalypse head on

and man were you guys a unit on the battlefield

one speedster is a wildcard. two? it’s like they couldn’t keep their heads on straight

“wanna make this a game?” -peter

“what’d you have in mind?” -you

“who can punch the blue guy the most” -peter

“nice try, i’m not punching hank” -you

the jokes were fun and distracting, but you guys took quite a few hits

you were bleeding from your head and peter got really serious really fast

“does it hurt? do i need to get you back to the jet?” -peter

“yes, it hurts. no, i’m not giving up” -you

peter broke his fucking leg <3

“alright, you’re done” -you, lifting him up and taking him to safety

he felt like a pretty princess being lifted bridal style by you

“i love you” -peter

“well, duh. nice if you said it more” -you

“i will. thanks for saving me” -peter

“save it for when we get home” -you

taglist: @locke-writes // @randomawesomeperson102 // @captainshazamerica // @dindjarinsspouse // @summersimmerus // @simp-legend // @nekoannie-chan // @groovy-lady // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[inkpot909]

I need me some hc for Johnny x reader😞💘 maybe something about flustering him way too much?

↳ Gender neutral!Reader with they/them pronouns. Reader is writing as a participant in the Steel Ball Run.

A/n: I’ve been thinking about Johnny Joestar way too much recently, and this request is a massive excuse to indulge myself. Thanks for the request, and I hope you enjoy! <3

Warning(s): Canon-typical swearing. A description of making out.

Johnny, for a long time, didn’t view himself as someone easily flustered. Unmovable as a rock, he’d have liked to say. He could’ve been described as jaded, and he wouldn’t have denied it. Pretty words and a lovely face doesn’t get to him so easily.

A hysterical contradiction to reality, all things considered.

Do you fluster him often? One may as well be asking if the sky is blue.

He’s reserved and a tad bit emotionally  constipated depending on when you first meet him. There’s a daunting barrier between him and you- wholly intentional on his part. But, due to Johnny’s decisiveness on character, it doesn’t stay up for very long. About a day tops.

In fact, Johnny grew genuinely attached to you rather quickly.

He was at your side constantly, trying really hard to keep a bored expression plastered on his face. He’d been almost too obvious about it. Turning his head away with his hands shoved into his pockets, as if he wasn’t the one who asked you to spend a good degree of available downtime together.

It’s easy to assume that you noticed fast, no matter how oblivious or unused to the subtle attention you might have been. Realizing his bias towards you came fast and quick. As if getting hit by a train was less startling.

One day you’re thinking, Wow, Johnny’s acting a little odd today. Wonder if he’s drinking enough water.

Then the next day it’s, Okay, it’s ten degrees below freezing. Hard to agrue it’s the heat getting to him anymore.

Bring up how head over heels he was before the two of you began dating, and he’ll bark right back without an ounce of grace nor hesitation. Whipping his head towards you, defensive comments spit out of his mouth and are slurred by his Southern twang.

Yeah, sure, he was (and still is) totally smitten. You got him there. “But you don’t gotta go on pointin’ it out!” he whines.

The effect of whatever he says is damn near always unintentionally softened by his reddened face. That, along with the fact that he’s still letting you hang off his arm without a single indication he wants you to move.

Flushing cheeks are a sure sign you’re getting to him; a massive display of what you consider ‘victory.’ And if you were to ask Johnny, he’d grumble that you could stand to be less smug about it.

When he blushes, it spreads across his face in the matter of seconds. His shoulder-length hair normally covers how the color extends to the tips of his ears, much to your dismay.

Only when you’re both alone can you push it a bit. Slowly sliding the baby blue cap off his head, and flicking fine blonde hair away from his face. Exposing pink ears, and the sight only grows more vibrant beneath your observing gaze.

Couple that with his overt tendency to get testy when flustered, and it’s quite the heart-swelling mess to behold.

Johnny’s bottom lip protrudes in a definite pout, and eyes narrow. He’s given every opportunity to retort, and although he tends to take it, he sometimes opts for a silent huff instead. Those times, you’re sure to pick up a soft grumble beneath his breath. Muttered either to himself or you.

“No need to be so pleased with yourself, sugar.”

“Wipe that grin off your face.”

It’s a low hanging fruit most of the time, but it works in prompting the both of you to share a private chuckle.

His interjection of humor is a considerable improvement to what he’d do before you started going out.

Namely, a comically sarcastic comment here and there is far better than blurting the first thing that comes to mind.

You found it charming… Johnny found it absolutely mortifying. You’d do so much as catch him slightly off guard, and out came the outlandish ramble.

The statements that have come out of his mouth in those days were some of the oddest and cutest attempts to save face you’ve ever witnessed. All tied together with a pink hue on his face you swear you could see standing several yards away.

He didn’t exactly trip over his words, but he still verbally fumbled. Feeling completely dumbfounded at whatever nonsensical excuse or distraction escaped his own mouth.

Worst of all, Gyro got on his case over it constantly- as if it was any of his business.

And at the time, it felt so unfair to Johnny- having finally found someone with that strong of an influence on him.

“… I saw that look, Johnny.”

The blonde lets out a long sigh, leaning against the backrest of his wheelchair. Cranking his neck to the side, he throws Gyro an immediate glare. The older man is leaning against a post with one leg kicked behind the other, arms crossed and eyes gleaming beneath the long brim of his hat.

Obnoxiously too, might I add, Johnny notes.

He takes a second to peak over at your wandering form ahead of the two men. You’ve made your way to a little store down the street, your wandering form inside the roadside stop visible from where he’s planted. The establishment is run by an elderly man with a kind demeanor and, most importantly, discounted horse food.

An added bonus, is that it’s a decidedly good distance away from him and Gyro.

Why does he care whether or not you can hear Gyro’s goading comment? Unimportant. Hell if he’s going to contemplate that, especially when said companion’s got that all-too-familiar smug expression visible on his face.

“I’m not doing nothin’,” Johnny grumbles, momentarily flicking his gaze downward.

“Sure, sure…” Gyro chuckles, his smirk showing off his golden grills. “You’re lying through your teeth. Keep getting all bashful in front of Y/n like that, and I might start thinking you’re getting distracted.”

He says that likes it’s some sort of medical condition, and I’m beyond savin’, the younger man thinks, biting his tongue briefly.

“S’not anything like that,” Johnny finally replies, lifting an eyebrow. His gaze grows sharp, keen on ignoring the heat lingering on his cheeks. “And it ain’t-“

“-Any of my business, I know, I know…” Gyro casually cuts him off, lifting his hands in mock defense. “You keep saying the same three things about it. Last time, it was, ‘Just let me fantasize about them in peace.’ I think you’re running out of excuses.”

“I’m not makin’ any excuses,” he lamely retorts. “And I did not say that.”

“Yes, you are,” Gyro snorts, waving off the former jockey calling him out on his lie. “Look, Johnny, I couldn’t care less about all this mushy lovestruck nonsense you’re currently wrapped up in. Long as it doesn’t interfere with what we should be focusing on, you here me?”

“It won’t-“

“Oh! Nyo-ho! You’re not denying it-“

“I was gettin’ to that, asshole,” Johnny huffs, clutching both his hands into fists. “Don’tcha got anything better to do than pretend there’s something goin’ on between me and Y/n?”

“No, no, I’m just saying you’ll get your priorities mixed up,” Gyro shakes his head, “I know there’s nothing actually going on; you’re far too chicken shit.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, like you don’t know… you can barely talk to them without folding,” Gyro snorts.

“He can barely talk to who?”

Johnny’s body jolts, hands snapping to the armrests on either side of his wheelchair. His head turns away from the Italian, eyes yours in a millisecond.

A quizzical expression occupies your face, and your arms are low and outstretched as you drag a large sack of horse feed behind you. There’s a slight hunch to your shoulders from the weight, but you still look beautiful beneath sunlight’s elegant glow. Head tilting to the side and a single eyebrow raised. Nonjudgmental curiosity laced within your irises in such a lovely-

No… no, no, no. Don’t go thinkin’ about that and just speak-

“I can barely speak to the store clerk. I get real nervous talking to people wearin’ overalls, so thanks for grabbing that for us.”

Committing to the udder bullshit that he just voiced with his entire chest- and silently cursing himself in the process -Johnny snatches the bag of feed from your hands. He plops it on his lap with an exaggerated thump! His hands each down either side of his chair, rushing towards nearby stables as fast as his wheels can carry him. Moving at a hasty and damn near frantic pace.

Leaving you and Gyro in a literal cloud of dust, the two of you glancing at one another in silent bewilderment.

God daggum. That was… they just… it halts my brain, alright? It’d happen to anyone talking to someone like them, he thinks, knowing full well Gyro’s going to give him hell for it later.

With bitterness swimming inside his brain, the warmth on his face flows downward and makes a home inside his chest. No amount of shoving past passersby and keeping his eyes locked ahead could hope to distract him from the sensation. His heart is racing, and not at all from the strain he puts on his arms moving himself in such a hurry.

He’s been told that feeling in his chest is love… but clearly that’s absurd.

That day, Johnny decided if he were bucked off his horse and left to be fed on by wolves… he would’ve been grateful.

Initial denial aside, you still manage to boggle the mind.

He’d rather be the one making you sigh and swoon. Usually, that’s the case- so what gives? He’s not exactly timid, and doesn’t shy away from a natural instinct to flirt with those who have caught his eye. Given his time as a jockey, Johnny knows on some level that he can be charming.

It’s a tad bit hypocritical, given you do have your own moments of growing flustered because of something he said or did. But Johnny himself? No, he should be impervious to it.

Do you even realize what you’re doing? Is it all on purpose? Are you truly that effortless? Or perhaps you’re oblivious to how you affect him? It merely takes a finger twirling around a few strands of his hair and you’d have him a mess in public… again.

Even if you’re doing no more than sitting beside him, holding his hand with a pleasant smile… clearly you’re plotting something, and he mark his word he will find out what.

Scratch that actually, he doesn’t want to know.

Don’t tell him a single thing about your own thought process, that will just make him loose himself in thinking about it even more. Despite being in a relationship with you, it’s still more emotion than he knows what to do with for a while. Normal or not, it’s embarrassing. Quit it.

Needless to say, Johnny’s a delight to tease and fluster.

No matter what he says in the moment, don’t you think about changing how you behave around him either.

What’s more world-altering than what your supportive words and lingering hand on his shoulder does to him? The idea of you stopping.

Just the thought of it makes his jaw tighten and hands grow clammy. You cause him to act in a way he finds embarrassing, but he doesn’t want to live without it. Because deep down, a large part of him values that aspect of your relationship a whole lot.

And if you tell him something sweet, along the lines of, “Well, I think it’s cute, Johnny.”

… God, help him.

Your voice is a soothing balm to his cracked and arid heart. He honestly thought he’d already found something special before you started dating. But now that there’s a tangible relationship formed… you harbor a certain amount of confidence around Johnny that gets him all weak for you.

“Something the matter, Johnny? You’re getting all red again, you know?”

“No, no…. my apologies. Please, keep going. I really enjoy listening to you talk.”

“I don’t know what to do, Johnny… I keep getting distracted watching you race.”

Words like that turn him into putty.

Maybe it’s the contrast to his bitter front, but when you’re sweet on him it gets Johnny in a really good way. Totally wrapped around your finger, all while fervently denying he is.

No matter how he tries, there’s a softness gleaming in his eyes you wouldn’t dare miss. He’s frustrated, but in the moment, he’s grown to have a one-track mind.

Especially if you’re cheeky.

Flirtatious in a way that causes a temporary feeling of constriction; the collar of his loose-fitting top somehow growing uncomfortable. His hand flies up to adjust it, and he’s gulping like an inexperienced teen at a loss of what to say.

The first time you’d kissed him, it was the simplest kiss to his cheek. The heat rushed to his face the moment your lips brushed against his skin. It was so hesitant and short it made his heart swell. The moment is still fondly thought of from time to time, considering how intent he was to immediately commit how it felt to memory.

He didn’t outwardly ask for another right away… but if you decided to, he wasn’t complaining.

Nowadays, getting lost in a kiss is what turns his face a deep crimson.

The kind you share when you’re alone, or after either of you do particularly well after crossing the finish line at the end of a stage in the race. The kind that prompts Gyro to bark a quick “Cut it out and pay attention!” over spontaneous lips meshing together.

His hands are on you fast, pushing up against and gripping at your clothes. Attempting to try and achieve the same effect as when the material is long discarded. You move your own in a similar vain, and he particularly likes it when you reach for the back of his head. Weaving your hands through hair underneath his cap and tugging him closer.

It’s enough to make him want to ignore Gyro’s boisterous comments, and push his tongue inside your mouth.

What really gets Johnny a muttering mess, though, is your fingers on his chin. It’s his weak-spot, and one that’s begging to be taken advantage of.

Merely the tiniest brush of your fingertips on the underside of his chin, and butterflies flutter inside his stomach pleasantly. Meant either as a tease or a quick sign of encouragement, it doesn’t matter. He’s going to be swooning every single time.

Gripping his jawline to keep his head in place or to direct his attention will garner a slightly different response.

Johnny’s eyes are immediately half-lidded, along with a hitch in his breathing. It’s just about the only time outside of a stand battle you’ve ever heard his voice rattle. His shoulders will dip, and if he sits taller than you, his back will instinctively arch so his gaze is peers up at you.

He doesn’t know exactly how you do what you do to him… but after some time, he comes to the conclusion it’s because specifically you are the one doing it.

A realization that brings a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk to his face, rather than any hint of denial.

[vorchagirl]

Injury prompts 13 for Illario x Bellara?

I couldn't find the injury prompt list, so I've written a general injury prompt. This is part of my longer Illario x Bellara fic that I'm writing. Tagging @himluv @skullypettibone since i now you like this ship.

-----

Illario watched as Bellara slid from Elgar'nan's grasp and collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She shivered, curling in upon herself and crying - all resistance stripped away, and all traces of her earlier bravery and courage obliterated by the harrowing hours spent in Elgar'nan's tender care.

He flinched as she rolled into her side and her wide brown eyes met his. His stomach contracted and his heart sped up, adrenaline surging through him. Her eyes were that of a rabbit waiting for the fox to finish it off. They reminded him keenly of eyes of the terrified halla that the Venatori had brought to Minrathous and slaughtered before Elgar'nan.

Innocent.

Helpless.

Pure.

Those eyes pinned him - not with power, but with emotion - and Illario felt something stir inside of him. Sluggishly, as though waking from a very long nap, an almost alien sense of guilt rose up in him. Guilt and horror and a desire to ease her pain.

Bellara did not deserve this fate.

"Take the little mage back to her room," Elgar'nan ordered Illario. "I think she learned a valuable lesson today about obeying her God. Didn't you my dear?"

He leaned down and gently brushed a lock of Bellara's hair off her face. She flinched and moaned in terror, squeezing her eyes shut in fear. Illario wanted to slap Elgar'nan's hand away from her - an absurd reaction considering he barely knew Bellara.

"I'm a very loving God," Elgar'nan spoke gently, almost crooning. "All you need do is accept my gifts - like Illario here. I could make you powerful beyond reckoning, gift you knowledge that was lost to the ages. All you want could be yours. Just love me. Obey me. Worship me-"

"Go to hell!" Bellara's voice was hoarse from screaming, and she glared up at Elgar'nan like a helpless angry kitten.

He just laughed and straightened. "Still some fight left in you yet. Interesting." Elgar'nan caught Illario's eye and flicked his fingers dismissively at Bellara. "Take her away. Do with her as you please. I'm sure you must know all kinds of ways to make people talk."

Hurt her? Torture her? Maim her? He would sooner destroy a work of art than damage her further. Illario fought to keep his face blank as he bowed and waited for Elgar'nan to move off, then he knelt by Bellara, who was crying softly again.

He started to reach for her, then stopped. "Can you walk?"

Her eyes opened, and she stared at him fearfully. "Get away from me!"

"Gladly, but I assume you don't wish to stay here with your "God". If I'm wrong..." He started to stand and heard her make a sound of pain as she tried to sit up.

Bellara sobbed and collapsed back to the floor. "I can't get up. It hurts!"

I know. He wanted to tell her. I know, but it gets better once you give in and accept his gifts.

Illario knelt with a sigh and scooped her into his arms, trying to ignore the coppery scent of blood and blight which clung to her like a perfume. Under that scent, he could smell something soft and sweet, something like cinnamon and sugar. It reminded him of his childhood, of sneaking to the kitchen with Lucanis to eat churros and drink cioccolata calda-

His stomach twisted painfully, and he shoved the memory away, swallowing it down and focusing instead on Bellara. Her bravery in the face of Elgar'nan's wrath was admirable, but she had fractured today and would break soon. And then, when she was vulnerable, Elgar'nan would blight her and make her into his creature.

Like him.

He deserved his fate, she did not.

[dresupi]

Gale x Reader, Gale x Tav Flash Fic

Prompt was: Jumping in the way at the last minute/taking a blow for the other from @littlewhispersofsolitude's protective prompt list No one asked for this, but I felt like writing it after reading the prompt list TW: mention of injury, pain, hurt/comfort, happy ending

Gale grunted in pain when he landed on his hip, the hard stone a poor cushion, but at least he wasn’t hurt. You’d succeeded in that. He turned back to look at you, to make sure you were alright. Your hands were outstretched in front of you, frozen as your wide eyes blinked back tears before glancing down at your abdomen. He followed your gaze and gasped, lunging for you as you crumpled to your knees, clutching at the arrow now protruding from your abdomen. The pain was acute. Worse than a spell. Worse than a broken bone. It took your breath away.

“Shh, shhh,” he softly shushes you, pulling your hands away from the wound. “You’ll be alright. You’re alright.”

You swallow back the lump in your throat as you gaze up at him. He wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he murmured into your hair. “I can’t believe you—”

“I couldn’t make a sound,” you gasped. “I needed to get you out of the way.”

“To what end?” Gale asked, gripping your hands tightly. “You’re hurt. How is that in any way better than me being hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” you grunted. “You promised. I’m alright.”

“It would be one thing you were wearing armor,” he said, his chest heaving. “But you’re in robes like mine. What makes you think you can take an arrow better than me?”

“The lack of a bomb in my chest for one,” you replied smugly. He was about to start arguing with you when a potion bottle flew through the air, from what direction, you didn’t know, but it landed right in front of you, breaking and splashing up onto your body.

“We’ll discuss this at camp,” he began before he reached down, cupping some of the glowing liquid and dripping it directly onto the wound in your abdomen.

You grabbed the arrow then, yanking it out before he dribbled the remaining potion over the wound. The cooling relief was instantaneous.

“There,” you said, grinning at him. “Right as rain.”

“Tav…” he sighed, moving to rise and extending his hand to help you at the same time. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“I certainly hope not,” you replied. “It’s not my intention whatsoever. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

You heard him sigh. He was frustrated with you, annoyed even, but it was still one of your favorite sounds in the world.

Grinning, you moved ahead, smoothing the front of your robes as you did. You felt the warm click as Gale cast mage armor on you. You looked back at him in thanks.

“Try not to attract any more projectiles before we bed down for the night,” he said.

“Apart from yours, I would assume?”

His face went all red in that adorable way he had. “Now is hardly the time, Tav.”

“Well, be sure to let me know when the time arrives. I certainly wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Oh believe me, I won’t let you miss it.” His brown eyes flashed, and he grinned for a short moment before tugging you along behind him. “Come on, let’s catch up with the others.”

[radioiaci]

Sitting still while the other's hands explore, Alastor leans back somewhat on his hands to provide better positioning for the eventual reveal, the robe sliding down his shoulders and off to drape around where he remains sat on the edge of the bed. A shiver threatens to strike him when Pen's hands find their way from his hips up to his waist, but he suppresses it to maintain his cool composure - though his tail, if observed, may give away his enthusiasm for having such attention on him.

The only attention that matters, really.

"It fits better than I initially thought," he hums, decidedly ignoring how the other's compliment prompts some slight redness to bloom on his features. He can blame it on the lighting of the room if he tries hard enough, ears perking forward as one of his hands drifts upwards to press the point of a claw up against the other's chin.

"But you did a very nice job of picking it out, I think," he continues with what amounts to a small purr of satisfaction. "I wanted to make sure you were properly appreciated for it."

Doing his utmost to quell the flagging of his tail, Alastor tilts his head to invite Pentious closer as he uncrosses his legs, providing decent space for the other to fill, if he so pleases.

"Feel free to say more about how I look perfect though," the radio demon jokes with a coy grin. "I can hardly refuse such compliments."

He cannot keep himself from being just a touch obnoxious, even in such a scenario. It keeps him from getting too aware of any lingering nerves or anxiety - baffling that they exist at all, considering how often they have been together at this point, but... Remain, they do. And humor or attitude are his means of negating their sway over him.

Sir Pentious looks dumb for the entirety of a few seconds, until he recovers from the flirtatious sight enough to speak, and the realisation strikes his face, hood aflare.

"Ah, I get it! You're the present. You devil," he clamours, his whisking tail bringing him right to the other demon as his mouth spreads into a knowing grin. He lowers down upon his tail, right in front of Alastor's crossed legs and the slightly visible tease of his thighs. He is truly a present. Pentious' excitement is no less than of the discovery of unexpected paper packages tied with colourful strings that he can hazily recall.

Pen makes a point to take his time, his claws ghosting those legs before they find the swell of Alastor's hips. Somewhere during his exploration, he notices how apparent the scent of bath salt is on Alastor's body.

"You were right," he says, finding the knot that holds that soft robe together, "this is fun."

And he pulls on the end of the waistband until it falls off Alastor's body. loosening the garment enough for Pentious to slip it open. He reveals what's beneath and forgets to breathe for a moment once the silver straps and thin, black fabric panels become visible. It's a striking display: Alastor's belly shows, the undergarment extends into garters around his thighs. The straps adorn his collarbone and chest. The fabric is even thinner over the breast.

"Oh-" Pentious vocalises in surprise again. He realises what the surprise is now. It was originally his surprise, but that doesn't make him any less caught off guard.

The garment looked good in the shop. But now...

Pentious lays his hands over Alastor's waist carefully, admiring the curves accentuated by the form-fitting outfit. Alastor is thin, but his body dips and swells in places that make it less concerning. He is very beautiful.

"The entire time? My goodness me. This is- you look perfect," Pentious says, voice lowered although no one else is present. His thumb caressed over the bare skin over Alastor's stomach.

"How does it feel?"

[wishchip106]

NPC’s

Erik: So I sit down and ask Charles to play chess, then what?

God (or whoever idk): you propose to him, easy enough.

Erik: Okay 👍

idk 😭

[starry-bi-sky]

MMMM twins au with danny and dan except its og TUE timeline danny and dan

ok okay i neeeeed o write this down and share it before i explode buT. as the title says. twins danny and dan (who im going to be calling James/Jamie bc i cannot express how much i despise the name dan) where, instead of disappearing into the ghost zone after he's separated from danny's body, Dan rips out Vlad's ghost half, tears THAT in half, and fuses one half with himself and the other with Danny.

Shit happens, and BOOM. Two morally ambiguous and perhaps slightly murderous demonic twins from hell. Daniel James Fenton and his Twin WHose Always Been Here What Are You Talking About :) James Daniel Fenton. They are both depressed, lonely, and one bad day from becoming a mass extinction event :)

this is because i got grabbed by the hair today and dragged into the SVSS fandom screaming and the fanart of Shen Jiu/Shen Yuan/Shen Quingqiu (????) with his fan entranced me. Ice Prince Core is my favorite thing so naturally i have to implant that onto my favorite blorbos ever :)

After the Incident, both their appearances changed and they're practically identical to each other. Sorta. They both have heterochromia and salt-and-pepper hair. But Danny has one green eye and one blue eye and white hair with black streaks, while Jamie has one blue eye and one green eye and black hair with white streaks. I'm iving them both long hair, for funsies <3

nobody can tell them apart, they keep getting confused on whose who and frankly the mix-match hair and eyes make it worse not better asjd. they're horrifically codependent. please do not separate :)

and because i must. im pulling a blood blossom/tales of the passerine and giving them to pre-robin batman. batman and his terrifying demon(??) twins. nobody is quite sure if they're human or not, and the scourge of gotham are a little too terrified to ask.

(they dont HAVE to go to batman while he's pre-robin. however. i think its much funnier that way bc gotham isn't use to A) Batman having kids, and B) Batman having TERRIFYING kids yet. think of all the new fun rumors)

they both use war fans while they're out, and neither of them use their ghost forms because they at least have the remaining empathy to know that they're more likely to murder someone accidentally as a ghost :). Ghost form is for fellow mythicals and Functionally Immortals Only! Not for Squishy Humans.

Jamie: murder. bloodshed. revengggee Bruce: no. no. Justice. peace!! hope! Danny: bittinngggg. blooood. ^-^

They're honestly not bad kids they're just horrifically traumatized two halves of a whole that can never be reunited ever again :).

idk what their vigilante names are but i do know that the underground refer to them in horrified whispers as 'the twins'. this all stemmed from the desperate and sudden urge to see Danny and Jamie, as their vigilante selves, hiding the lower half of their faces with fans and looking terrifyingly judgmental while they do it <333

[benevolenterrancy]

@hereticcryptid I appear to be slowly but surely developing an entire series about how Hensheng and Baxia apparently get fed up with their owners' inability to express their feelings and take matters into their own hands...

[lohstandfound]

Brooke as Rapunzel, Jake as Flynn not in a ship way but a sibling way I think that would be fun

Jake reluctantly agreeing to help this girl he accidentally found in this tower he decided to hide in. Sure there are wanted posters for him all over the kingdom but some people are willing to let him slide by because he's nice enough

He has some friends he wants to take care of too. And thus became his robin hood act. Only narrowly escaping capture every time

But on their travels and trying to scare her off back to her tower, he decides Brooke isn't too bad.

Something something they make it too town. Something something he introduces her to his friends. Something something Brooke heals the burn scars on rich. Something something the dance sequence happens with Brooke and Chloe with Jake watching on the sidelines. Something something the whole trip has basically been them annoying each other only in the ways siblings do

(something something Brooke realises she's the missing princess and at the end of all of this Jake somehow gets adopted whether officially or not by the royal family and he's just there now not completely sure how he managed this /hj)

[coldjustness-archive]

TAG DROP 001.

[ ooc. ] one. one thousand. two. one thousand. three. and now my patience is up.

[ ic. ] chase the right bastard through the wrong ritual it'll knock you right out. of course. you might wake up with a new accessory.

[ answered: ooc. ] it is better to ask a question than to sit on your hands and let it fester.

[ answered: ic. ] most papers don't say much but read between the lines you pickup a thing or two.

[ psa. ] hear ye! hear ye! use that thing on the inside of your head or be doomed!

[ saved. ] i'm like a dragon with the things I like. I'll horde them forever.

[ prompts / memes. ] im not picky. i got a cup and it does the job. that's all I ask.

[ reflections ] I'm fighting rook. sometimes it feels like the city itself stabs me in the back.

[ introspection ] its not what keeps me up at night. its not the quiet. I never could sleep once work gets in my head.

[ crack. ] sing your praises and you still want something! I'll find you a treat if you don't tell davrin. have we got a deal?

[ salt. ] that's the worst-case scenario. but all too often; the most pessimistic speculation turns out to be the closest to the truth.

[ birthday. ] it's my hatch day! Im allowed to be happy and irresponsible.

[ self promotion. ] apparently I could something clever here but I am too lazy for that.

[ promotion. ] I like this blog. I think it's neat. it deserve attention. everyone! look here!

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Update on my Whumptober thoughts: Not all the prompts will be posted, I have all 31 planned out but I found out that you don't have to post all 31. If a fic is finished, I'll post it but there's some big beasts that I want to write properly instead of rush. Also, I might not even write all 31. I want the completionist title but I don't have the time nor energy to force myself to write all the prompts and I did it last year and it wasn't like life-changing. I like Whumptober because the prompts help my creativity, spark some inspiration (talking about my Delancey Brothers Fic) but the perfectionist in me just beats myself up about not getting enough fics done before October or not writing enough each day to get them finished and then writing fics that all sound the same or the ideas being kind of shitty because I'm forcing them. I want to do my ideas justice rather than mass produce shit I don't like because I feel I need to, it's a constant line I walk between "I want to write something well and that I'm proud of so might be inactive for a while on AO3" and "I want to get this idea out there so need to post a bunch of stuff now"

[rawliverandgoronspice]

not dipping back there again after this, but my opinion on where the discourse re: us politics is heading is not getting any nicer.