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kryptonitejelly · 7 months ago

Note

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortlessly, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as you easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x y/n #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson x female reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers imagine #not cm #not tg

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muletia · 2 months ago

Text

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

#transformers #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #tfp #obsessed!optimus

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Sum of All 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You touch the seam of the skirt as you fidget in the passengers’ seat. The scene is starting to become all too familiar. You feel like some cursed sidekick to this man. Destined to count numbers you’re supposed to forget.

“You don’t like it?” Rogers asks as he grips the steering wheel tighter. He hasn’t offered much detail about your destination but whatever this is has him on edge. Is he ever not?

“Huh, no,” you smooth your hands over the dusted rose fabric. “It’s nice.”

“The lady at the store picked it. I don’t know,” he grumbles.

You almost want to laugh. Is he that worried about a dress? You admit, you prefer your separates, but it’s really nice. Sleek, elegant, refined. As long as it does the job...

That thought makes you squirm as you recall your unfortunate shower debacle. It isn’t the greatest start to your day and the night hardly set you up for success but all you can do is get through it. Wherever he’s taking you, whatever he wants you to do.

He draws up to a large golden gate with pointed orbs at the top of the steep poles. You lean forward to marvel at the mansion. It’s immaculate. Like a modern palace. You let out a ‘woah’.

“He does like to show off,” Rogers remarks.

“I mean, it’s pretty but a bit much,” you sit back, trying to play it cool.

The gate slides to one side at his approach. He’s expected. That jars you. It’s all so mysterious. And scary. You’re silent as he pulls through.

“You good? How are you feeling?” He checks as he comes to a stop before a finely curated row of hedges.

“Hm, oh, good, I’m feeling alright,” you assure him.

“Mm, let me know if you feel foggy.” He looks at you with concern. You’re starting to feel like a burden.

“I’m fine, promise. You don’t need to worry.”

“I can’t have you falling on your face with this one,” he girds.

“Oh, right, obviously not,” you agree.

He gives you a long look and gets out. You blink and undo your seat belt. You open the door and give a start as he appears behind it. He grips the top as you get out. He shuts it and gestures you toward the front steps of the house.

As you come to the curved stone, a figure emerges from the double doors at the top. Sleek, moving like a snake, sharp eyes narrowed at the man at your side as he smooths back his black tresses.

“Rogers,” he greets your escort. “He’s waiting.”

“I know,” Rogers replies. “Laufeyson.”

The snakish man turns without another word and passes through the doors. Rogers nudges your arm and you follow, keeping pace with him. You clutch your briefcase handle, your only comfort in that moment.

You continue across the large foyer and around the right side of the stairs. The man leads you to a door hidden behind it that blends right into the wall. The handle is camouflaged. He pulls the door open and waves you on.

Rogers points you ahead of him. You enter and he’s close behind, brushing close as you come into the study-like room. A blonde man, larger than even the one at your back, sits behind a big white desk. He toys with a little golden hammer, some sort of paper weight as his blue eyes flick up.

“Ah, there he is,” He drops the ornament with an unexpectedly heavy thunk. “Rogers, finally here!”

“Odinson,” Rogers greets, a glimmer of warmth in his voice.

“It has been too long,” the large man stands and strides around the desk. “And you have brought a beautiful woman!” He approaches you and grabs your hand, kissing it with gusto. “Ah, wonderful! I did hate to think of you coming all alone.”

“She’s here to do the numbers,” Rogers assures. “That’s all.”

“Of course, of course,” the other man, Odinson, nods as he turns to Rogers. “I was sorry to hear about Margaret.”

Rogers shifts, “Peggy made a decision.”

Peggy. That's the second mention of her. Whoever she is. You think you might have a good guess for it.

“Right, right, sour grapes,” he offers a hollow smile and turns his attention back to you. “Ah, but I do lose myself. Thor, my lady, and you?”

You look between him and Rogers. Your companion shrugs. You introduce yourself.

“You have come far. You must be tired,” he says to both of you as he extends his arm wide. “We might hold off on business and first break bread. I have missed you, old friend.”

Thor claps Rogers’ shoulder. He’s the only person who’s ever made the mafioso look small. You watch quietly. You feel like an intruder.

“Sure, sounds good,” Rogers agrees.

“Oh, but first, I do forget myself. I will show you to your room. I was unaware of your company,” Thor says. “My woman was preparing just for you.”

He gestures you back into the hallway. You go first as Rogers waits. He follows and your host comes third. You glance back for direction.

“Just up the stairs,” Thor explains.

You obediently proceed along that path, climbing cautiously. You come to the top and admire the golden sconces along the wall. The whole place is ornate and extravagant.

Thor comes up past you and guides you along to a door. He taps it with his knuckles, “Rogers. I can have another set aside for the... accountant?”

“I have my CPA,” you say. “Uh, yeah.”

Thor chuckles and Steve breathes heavily through his nose, “if it’s too much trouble.”

“No trouble is too much for you,” Thor assures. “I hope we can come to happy agreement. I would hate you to come so far for anything other than that.”

“Well, it has been a long trip,” Rogers agrees.

“Let me give her the tour and you can settle in,” Thor insists. “I should show her the pool before my woman sinks her claws in.”

“You married?” Rogers asks.

“Working on it,” Thor answers and gently touches your arm. The movement catches Rogers’ eye. “They might amuse each other in your time here.”

“Hm, maybe,” Rogers crosses his arms. “I’ll get my bag.”

“You might request some brandy from the maid as well,” Thor snickers. “Take off the edge, Rogers. I’ve never seen you wound so tight.” He slides his arm under yours, “oh, and I didn’t mention, the beard... looks good on you.” Thor turns and points you in the other direction, “come, you will want to see the balcony.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #sum of all #mob au #au #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america

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03jyh23 · 7 months ago

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— moonlit promises || park seonghwa

idol!seonghwa x non-idol!reader

synopsis: you just miss your fiancé

genre: fluff

trigger warnings: none

words: 1.3 k

reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! this was written for my best friend when she was having a bad day. "moonlit promises" was personalized to suit her so i decided to post only a short part of the original work. since i posted a lot of angst lately, i think it's a good time to post this short fluff.

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i’d be so grateful for a little love – a like, reblog or comment would truly make my day!

taglist: @hoeforalbedo (if you'd like to join my taglist you can just let me know here!)

You sat by the window, the soft glow of the moon casting a gentle light across your small room. It was late, and the world outside was quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

You hold your engagement ring delicately between your fingertips, and you can’t help but marvel at its beauty. The ring glimmers in the soft light, its facets catching the light in a mesmerizing dance of sparkle and shine. The centerpiece, a brilliant diamond, seems to hold a universe of its own within its depths, reflecting the love and commitment shared between Seonghwa and you. You trace the intricate patterns of the band, feeling the smooth metal against your skin. Each curve and twist seems to tell a story of your journey together, from the moment you first met to the promise of forever that now lies before you. The ring feels like a tangible symbol of your love, a constant reminder of the bond you share and the future you are building together.

As you gaze at the ring, you feel a swell of emotion wash over you. It's more than just a piece of jewelry; it's a promise, a vow, a testament to the depth of your love and the commitment you have made to each other. And as you slip the ring onto your finger, you know you won't be able to resist calling your fiancé.

With your phone in hand, you dialled Seonghwa's number, heart fluttering with anticipation as it rang, hoping that he would have a minute or two to talk.

"Hey, love," Seonghwa's voice greeted you, warm and comforting despite the miles between you.

"Hi, Seonghwa," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd call you."

"Ah, I'm glad you did, we already finished our rehearsals for today," Seonghwa said softly. "Did the stars made you think about me again?" he asked, his voice carrying a soft smile that you could hear.

"Yeah..." You admitted shyly "I miss you a lot, especially on nights like these when the stars are out and shining so brightly. Nights like these always reminds me of you, but even though they shine brightly, they just don't seem as magical without you by my side."

"I miss you too, baby," Seonghwa whispered "But talking to you makes it feel like you're right here with me." Your heart swelled at his words, your gaze drifting to the sky outside once again. When you look up at the stars, you feel a deep connection to your fiancé, even across the miles that separate you. The stars serve as a reminder of your love and the special bond you two share, it’s like the stars are strengthening your connection despite the physical distance. You sighed softly; voice tinged with longing as you spoke to Seonghwa through the phone.

"I wish you could be here, holding me in your arms," you murmured, as you wrapped the blanked around you, your words carried the weight of your separation. "The hoodies you left... they've lost your smell already." There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Seonghwa replied, his voice filled with empathy.

"I know, love. Next time I will spray all of them with my perfume twice as much." He laughed softly before continuing "I miss holding you close, feeling your warmth against me. I miss your eyes. But even though I'm not there physically, know that my love for you hasn't faded, not even a little bit." you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek as you listened to Seonghwa's words.

"I know," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "And I hold onto that." Seonghwa's heart ached at the sadness in your voice, wishing more than anything that he could be there to comfort you.

"I promise, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with determination, "One day soon, I'll hold you in my arms again." you smiled through tears, feeling a glimmer of hope within your chest.

"You better keep that promise, Park Seonghwa" you replied playfully, voice warmer than before. "Until then, I'll cherish every moment we have together, even if it's just through late-night phone calls and memories of your scent."

You never blamed Seonghwa for living his life as an idol, truth be told, even after all these years in a relationship, you remained his fan, genuinely thrilled by his success. You knew that no one deserved success as much as ATEEZ. From his early days, you had been there for him, supporting him every step of the way. Yet on a night like this, the ache of missing him became overwhelming. You wished he was beside you.

"Speaking of stars," Seonghwa said, his voice taking on a playful tone, "did I ever tell you that you're my little star? Shining bright even in the darkest of nights." your cheeks flushed at his endearing words.

"You always know how to make me smile," you said, heart overflowing with love for him.

"And you always know how to make my heart skip a beat," Seonghwa replied, his affection evident in every word. As you continued to talk, your laughter mingling with the gentle night sounds, you couldn't help but feel grateful for moments like these, when distance seemed to fade away and your love shone brighter than any star in the sky.

"I love you, Y/N," Seonghwa's voice came through the phone, gentle and sincere, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. "And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you" Your breath caught in your throat at his declaration, your heart swelling with love for him.

"And I can’t wait to marry you," It’s been four years since you started dating, one year into being engaged, but you never got used to hearing those three words from Seonghwa. "I love you too, Seonghwa," you whispered, voice filled with emotion. You lingered in silence for a moment, basking in the warmth of the love you shared, before Seonghwa spoke again, his voice soft and soothing.

"You should go to sleep, my love," he said tenderly. "What time is it there like... 3 am?" your eyes fluttered open at Seonghwa's words, a small smile playing on your lips as you glanced at the clock beside your bed.

"Almost, I’m amazed that you know," you replied softly, "It's actually 2:40 am." Seonghwa sighed on the other end of the line, the frustration evident in his tone.

"I hate these time zones," he admitted, his voice tinged with longing. "I wish I could be there to tuck you in and cuddle you close." Your heart ached at his words; your own longing mirrored in his. "But I guess tonight you will have to settle for my hoodie,"

"I wish you could be here too," you whispered, voice filled with sadness, "But knowing that you're thinking of me, even from miles away, is enough to keep me warm." Seonghwa's response was immediate, his voice filled with love and reassurance.

"I'll always be thinking of you, baby," he said softly. "No matter the distance." You felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that even in the darkness of night, Seonghwa's love would always light the way.

Seonghwa's voice continued to fill the quiet of the night, a steady rhythm that lulled you deeper into sleep. His words were like whispered promises, wrapping around you.

"Sleep well, my darling," Seonghwa murmured, his voice soft and affectionate. "Dream of us, together under the stars, where distance cannot separate our hearts." You smiled, your dreams already filled with visions of Seonghwa's warm smile and the promise of your future together. With his voice as your anchor, you surrendered to the peaceful embrace of sleep, knowing that no matter the distance, your love would always bring you back to each other. And as you drifted off to sleep, Seonghwa's voice remained with you, a constant presence in the darkness, guiding you through the night until the dawn of a new day.

#ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez x y/n #ateez fanfic #ateez x you #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x you

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be-compromised · 5 months ago

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Promptathon 2024

Hi All, welcome to the 2024 edition of the annual be_compromised epic summer promptathon!

Been wanting to jump into the fandom but not sure where to start? Now’s the time. Newbie or a lurker? Here’s the perfect opportunity to say hello! Not been active in the fandom for a while? Welcome back. Promptathon is a fun, no-pressure environment where you can post zero to as many prompts as you like, zero to as many fills as you like, and join in the squee or just quietly enjoy the fun.

We’re a Clintasha (Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff) community that welcomes ALL THINGS MARVEL. We’d like Clint and/or Natasha to show up in prompt fills somewhere, but what that means is up to you - individually or as friends, lovers, spouses, partners, gen fic, ANYTHING. Yes, that means we also welcome other characters and pairings (and threesomes or moresomes.)

If that sounds like the kind of party you’d like to join, please read on for the event timeline, how to leave prompts and fills, and a few rules to make sure everyone has a fun time.

TIMELINE

TODAY: Prompting starts! GO, GO, GO MONDAY 5 AUGUST: Now is when you can start leaving fills for prompts! (You can also keep prompting) MIDNIGHT SUNDAY 29 SEPTEMBER: Promptathon, both prompts and fills, ends at midnight in whatever your timezone is.

A masterlist will be posted shortly after the event ends, on Dreamwidth and tumblr.

HOW PROMPTATHON 2024 WORKS

Promptathon takes place on Dreamwidth, but you do not need an account to prompt, fill, or join in. Anonymous comments are enabled; if you comment anonymously please consider including your online handle(s) in your comment so we know who you are and can credit you!

LEAVING PROMPTS

Please post each prompt in a separate comment to this post.

Prompts can be anything – simple or elaborate, words or pictures, songs or poems, lyrics or phrases, anything that could inspire a fanwork. Use your imagination. Go wild! You can also re-use prompts from previous events, whether they were filled or not.

You can leave as many prompts as you want. We’re serious. Keep coming back. We want as many prompts as we can possibly get.

Please put a spoiler warning at the start of your prompt if it contains spoilers/speculation relating to any Marvel films/tv shows released in the last six months.

SUBMITTING FILLS

Comment in a reply to the prompt that you are filling.

The subject line of your comment should be: ‘FILL: title, rating.’

You can then post your entire fanwork in the comment if it’s short enough AND/OR you can post your fanwork anywhere else on the internet and post a link to it in your comment.

Your comment must also include: > Title > Rating (ie film ratings or AO3 style ratings) > Any warnings OR you can say ‘choose not to warn’ (think about the AO3 warnings or take a look at our comm guidance if you’re stuck) > A spoiler warning if your fill contains spoilers/speculation relating to any Marvel films/tv shows released in the last six months. (Not everyone has Disney+/can get to the cinema.)

Following these guidelines 1) makes it easier for people to find your fills during the event as a one-stop shop, and know what they’re clicking on and 2) makes it a LOT easier for your mods to create a masterlist at the end, without missing any of your fills. Thank you!

If you’re posting your fill elsewhere, consider including a teaser to catch people’s attention! If you’re posting on AO3, we have a ‘Community: be_compromised’ tag and a promptathon collection available if you like those sorts of things. If you’re posting on tumblr, let us know or tag it with ‘clintasha’ so we can find it and reblog on the be_compromised tumblr. We want people to be able to find and appreciate your fills <3

There’s no length requirement on fanworks submitted. You can create drabbles or epics, vids, art, fanmixes, anything at all; it’s just all about getting creative! Fills do not have to be complete or completed during the promptathon. You can fill as many prompts as you want, and prompts can be filled multiple times by whoever wants to fill them. You can fill more than one prompt in one fill, or make a series out of fills for various prompts. Zero pressure; all fun.

QUESTIONS AND SQUEE

We have a general thread for comments, questions, and general chat as the first comment thread in this post. We welcome reactions, discussion, and cheerleading in replies to prompts and fills. (This is where posting each prompt separately and labelling the subject line of fills helps to keep things organised.) We also have a be_compromised discord server if you prefer a chatroom-style space. (Although as above, all prompts and fills will be in this post as a one-stop shop.) Commenting, cheerleading, and enthusiasm is a huge part of fandom and you are very welcome to join in! Yes, even if you don’t post any prompts or fills.

GENERAL RULES

Our Community Rules apply to this event. To summarise: > No character or ship bashing. This is a positive fandom space. > No plagiarism, or use of AI please - we want to see what YOU create. > Please no RPF (Real Person Fanfiction) or any gossip/speculation about actors’ off-screen non-work lives, as the primary focus of this community is fictional characters. > Please include a rating for fanworks and a warning OR ‘choose not to warn’. > Be kind and have fun!

If you have any questions about anything please feel free to ask! The easiest way is to use the questions thread, which is in the first comment to this post, or ask on the Discord server (‘general’ thread). Your mods are inkvoices, CloudAtlas, and gsparkle.

OKAY THEN , LET’S GET PROMPTING!

#be_compromised #promptathon 2024 #long post #promptathon #all fanworks welcome #clint barton #natasha romanoff #hawkeye #black widow #clintasha #prompts

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beabaseball · 1 year ago

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I think that... instead of changing our home dashes or making for you pages, Tumblr should add a function that is like reblogs but call it "zeitgeist." And you click it like a reblog, and it goes into the zeitgeist.

The zeitgeist is a separate dashboard that just is everything that was put into it, so it'll be a whole new hoard of posts from every active corner of tumblr every time you refresh. Whenever you're bored just tap into the zeitgeist. People will put stuff there like 37 times and you'll still have posts between them it'll be great (or it can be the only place with mandatory shortened posts, to prevent Color Of The Sky spamming, but only shortened posts, none of this "last few comments" thing. If you want to have embedded comments, have them in the replies so I can have a conversation without @ing them and digging for the last reply because it's functionally unusable if too many people engage)

Anyway.

create the zeitgeist you wish to see in the world.

#i am submitting this for peer review #tumblr update #tumblr algorithm #beatext

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zhongrin · 2 years ago

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┋ The Steambird Issue No.517

article commissioned by the fontaine steambird magazine and written by ✾ mei/rin ✾

[Breaking News!] Our Fontaine gadget makers did it again, folks!

A collaboration project between Fontaine's best gadget makers and the scholars at Sumeru Akademiya has resulted in a prototype device inspired by the now-obsolete AKASHA system.

Not many details have been revealed, but as the scholars described it, they are aiming to use the concept of AKASHA to create a virtual space, called TeyvaTweets, where people can communicate with one another without seeing each other's faces! Yes - much quite like a communication device, but one that utilizes text instead of the usual verbal methods of communication.

A few selected testers have been invited to try it out, and if you're one of the lucky ones - congratulations! We look forward to seeing how this new technology will help connect people across Teyvat.

——————————⟡⟡⟡ ✉️ ⟡⟡⟡——————————

Dear <USER>,

𝒞ongratulations! You have been selected to help with testing out the fruits of our labor, here at the Sumeru-Fontaine collaboration project. Enclosed is the device containing the application: TeyvaTweets. Have fun perusing it, and we look forward to your feedback.

⧽ [ Turn on the device ] [ Leave it off ]

ps. user manual and warnings attached on a separate page.

𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝟷.𝟶.

you should be able to open it using both phone and pc (it's just a normal website).

clicking on pfp/name/username in a tweet (orange box) will open the profile of that person. clicking the 'x' icon on the popup box's top right side will close the user profile.

clicking the tweet on the main page will open the tweet's replies thread. clicking the back button will bring you back to the main page.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.

there are suggestive contents inside, but nothing explicit.

some of you make cameos under other people's tweets too! see if you can spot yourself ;)

there's a lot of images for this one so the page might load slowly for you, especially if your internet isn't fast. i'm also using a free hosting service from GitHub, so yeah.

in order to indulge everyone, please pretend the tweet reply threads that 'overlap' with one another is a separate world on their own (e.g. if multiple people are flirting with a character and they flirt back in the reply thread don't point fingers and say that they're unfaithful / is cheating / ruin someone else's fun in general ;;;)

tested on chrome & safari web browsers on a mac and iphone + google pixel. crossing my fingers that it works on other devices too...

created for 𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓇𝒾𝓃'𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 (submissions are closed)

might make a y/n-ify version of this in the future bc my brain accidentally fleshed out a whole concept of how it would work, but don't count me on that bc it's gonna take a lot more effort than this and honestly idk if it's even worth it-

——————————⟡⟡⟡ ✉️ ⟡⟡⟡——————————

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #zhongli #al haitham #kaveh #childe #kaeya #wanderer #too many characters involved to tag in this #so i just tagged the ones with most appearances #zhongrin's surprise event #rin writes #rin uses her programming skill to have fun

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stxrrgirlz · 2 years ago

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🌙 ❜ ─ Live

Authors note. I love you all so much thanks for 200. Seriously insane. This isn’t what I normally post group wise but I still hope you like it!

Ot5. x Reader ( separately )

Wc. 1.0k

» txt as cam boys

Warnings. Tell me if I miss anything. Flesh light use. Sub kai. Recorded. Humping. Pet names. Dirty talk. Yeonjun edging himself. Mommy kink. Dildo usage. Overstimulation. Begging

MINORS DNI 18+

Not proof read

Genre. Smut

TUMBLR IS BASED ON REBLOGS. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK ❤️

★ Yeonjun

Definitely teases the viewers. The comments praising him for how big he is boosts his ego more than it should.

Mostly uses his hands doesn’t really like toys, but will occasionally use a flesh light when he’s been feeling a little more needy than usual.

Doesn’t have a streaming schedule. Does it whenever he feels like it. Mostly does it for his own pleasure so, sometimes he will disappear for weeks until he’s needy again.

First got popular because of how interactive he was with the comments. Always replying with an ego driven response like “ want me to keep going? Be a good girl for me and wait until I’m finished”

Definitely edges himself. Will start of slow, eventually speeding up before slowing down again just to deny himself. Doesn’t do it for the audience rather more for himself.

However even though he’s not streaming a lot he is able to make an living off of it. He might seem like he doesn’t care a lot be he’s actually great full.

Sometimes he’ll post videos and it’ll end right before he gets to release. Comments often begging for the full video.

Streams usually last 30 minutes to an hour. Sometimes he’ll stay after and chat, but not a lot. He’s also faceless so no one knows what he actually looks like, definitely teased a face reveal a couple of times but never went through with it.

★ Soobin

Most definitely a soft dom when it comes to interacting with the stream. Definitely very popular. Streams regularly and each stream in about one to two hours long.

Praises the viewers like his life depends on it. Doesn’t go a second without making sure you guys feel as good as him, even though he can’t see you.

His whines are definitely the prettiest. Low and airy but can also be heard against the slapping of his hand against his base

Can also be a tease but a little nicer? “ gonna cum f’me? Be a good girl and wait,yeah?”

Wants him and the viewers to cum at the same time. Something about it gets him going. Likes the connection.

Streams regularly and has a schedule probably twice or 3 times a week.

King of pet names. He always chooses just the right ones to make people buckle at their knees. Like he will definitely call you good girl, princess,darling sweetheart. Makes people feel like their actually with him

He won’t use toys a lot but he definitely has same. Maybe handcuffs or a flesh light. Only uses them upon requests though.

Definitely rewards his highest tipper after each stream. Maybe a private call with just him and said other person.

Shows his face, definitely has been recognized in public before but has gotten super embarrassed about it.

Overall 10/10 streamer boy, everyone’s favorite for sure.

★ Beomgyu

Everyone’s favorite switch. Not completely dominant but not completely submissive either.

When he’s subbing he definitely jumps the pillow or uses handcuffs on himself. Begs the chat to let him touch himself. Would definitely call viewers mommy or some pet name. I can also see him using a dildo?

Has the prettiest whines ever usually high pitched but they turn into grunts right before he reaches his high.

When he’s Dom he’s definitely rough and fast uses a flesh light or his hand.

In terms of toys he has a ton of them and is open to trying anything new. Very experimental when it comes to things like this.

I would feel like he has a above average sex drive so, he probably streams 4-5 times a week.

Has overstimulated himself by a accident before. He didn’t even realize intill he came down from his second high and he was a little two sensitive. When very sensitive he lets out the best whines ever.

Definitely can see him occasionally dressing up or role playing. His most popular costumes are definitely: police officer,doctor, and an angel.

He could definitely collab with another streamer ( you ), but other than that he likes to keep it to himself

Overall one of the best streamer boys out their because of his duality.

★ Taehyun

Definitely a soft Dom!

He loves praising, weather he’s doing it or the chats doing it he just can’t get enough.

He streams manly to help get other people off and usually ends in him jerking off himself. Doesn’t stream for donations, and will even complain that the chats being to nice.

Streaming isn’t his main job so he doesn’t stream everyday but atleast 2-3 times a week. On sundays,Saturdays and thursdays at 9:45pm every time.

Even though he works somewhere else he isn’t faceless. Wants viewers to know that their also making him feel good.

Aftercare king. He loves just talking to the chat and getting to know them generally interested, you don’t see a lot of things like that with other cam boys, that’s why he’s loved so much.

Did I mention he comes extremely fast? He’s literally about to bust but he’s only been at it for 10ish minutes. Has to overstimulate himself to make sure everyone else can still orgasm

Doesn’t complain though. He’s grown used to the feeling and thinks it feels really good.

Overall he may not be the top camboy but, people still love him!

★ Huening Kai

Everyone’s favorite sub! Literally so sweet and once you watch him once you become addicted.

Definitely has a lot of toys. Very experimental and open to anything. He mostly uses a vibrator though. Holding it to his sensitive leaking tip. Arches his back when he’s overstimulated.

Streams daily. Since he’s so young his sex drive is extremely high.

mommy kink 100%. He would be so whiney when he says it too. Loves begging he gets off on it all the time.

His whines are loud and whiney. He sees the comments praising him for getting of and being a good boy.

When he gets very need he jumps the bed or the pillow.

Probably the number one streamer in the world with how active he is.

Likes teasing his viewers if theirs an up coming stream. Maybe a short video clip of him all dolled out and very whiney and needy.

Basically famous. Shows his face a lot and has been noticed before. Not embarrassed at all and actually loves meeting viewers.

Also rewards viewers but instead of just a video call he meets them in person.

Overall everyone loves him. How could they not?

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talisman975 · 9 months ago

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Happy Watching And Dreaming anniversary and welcome to the final day of the BelosFansTakeover event!

These past several months have been so much fun with you guys, especially when we’re able to come together and bring justice to Belos’s character when S3 could not.

Even if we’re unable to make it to the trending page this time, what matters is Belos fans having fun without feeling scared and ashamed to.

So for this final activity, let’s celebrate his humanity and evil doings by spreading the #BelosFansTakeover as much as we can!

Share your art with the tag, post your favorite screenshots of him with the tag and explain why it’s your favorite, talk about other Belos artists, share your Belos headcanons, and the most important activity of all:

Share the tag with all of your S3 rewrite ideas!

It could be an entire post altogether, it could be a simple episode that you only want to rewrite or just a few moments, don’t matter! Give Belos, and by extension The Owl House, the season three they deserve!

And since this is the WAD anniversary, do Belos the greatest justice of giving him the ending he deserves. Could be a simple art, or a drabble or even a few sentence post, Belos/Philip is a character that has been done dirty since his creation, the one thing we can do is end him, and this event, on a high note.

Also I want to give a BIG shoutout to all of those non Belos fans who went out of their way to call out the mistreatment of Belos fans, you guys are genuine troopers and you have my respect.

And if everyone wants to, talk about the event! What are your thoughts on it? I’d like to hear in the tags, replies, reblog comments, and even separate posts of you want!

That’s it for now! Enjoy the eclipse and happy anniversary!

#belosfanstakeover #my post #toh #the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #toh belos #toh philip #toh emperor belos #toh phillip wittebane

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 1 year ago

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I recently reblogged this thread recently and I have to say, it's mind blowing to me. This is a great thread but looking through the replies is mind numbing. Women have children. Aside from RARE exceptions this is a biological fact. The thing that causes this to happen? Sexual Intercourse. The thread is shown here:

Now. Let me start this off by saying that I don't have solid beliefs when it comes to Pro Life or Pro Choice. I really don't. I know several people I follow are pro life and would not be happy with me saying that but I mostly sit on the fence for this one. I lean more towards the Pro Life side of things but I'm honestly not 100% pro life. And I'm not good at articulating why. But that's something I personally have to live with.

However the reason I'm making this post is because of some comments I saw. Specifically from one person. Now, I didn't see the things they were replying too, but I can still approach what was said in the comments as they were statements that need no context to understand. I'll address them kind of together but also separately.

Here are the comments:

So let me make this blatantly clear. All of this is bullshit. All of it.

A fetus is a HUMAN fetus first and foremost. Meaning it is human from conception. And yes. Children have more rights than adults. Why? Because you can get charged for neglect towards a child. As well as other things. Kids have varying protections under the law that adults do not. So it's not, "More rights than a regular person". It's "More legal rights and protections than an adult."

A fetus is NOT a corpse. And even in the case of a miscarriage, there should still be a level of dignity given to the lost life.

"By allowing people to chose to terminate a pregnancy, that ensures both the parent and the child have equal human rights" No it doesn't. It means that the child has no right to life and the mother has a right to destroy said child before it is delivered. Even after said child is viable. When functionally a fetus is viable after a point in time where it can survive outside the womb. If it has to come out either way at that point, why kill it? Oh right, because you don't view it as a living human.

This here is a load of shit. Bodily autonomy stops the moment another life is added to the equation. "It means no one can use your body without your consent."

*SIGH*

YOU LITERALLY CONSENT TO THE CHANCE OF HAVING A CHILD THE MOMENT YOU DECIDE TO HAVE SEX. EVERY THING YOU DECIDE TO DO IN YOUR LIFE HAS CONSEQUENCES! IF YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX AND NOT HAVE KIDS GET FUCKING FIXED! And if you can't get fixed, the reason is because doctors have been SUED for letting people get fixed when they were too young to realized they'd eventually want kids. And after a LOT of legal issues most doctors will no longer fix people under a certain age without X amount of kids. Unless you opt to freeze your eggs first. However there are doctors that will still do it.

If you are so concerned, find those doctors. THEN when you decide ok now I'm ready, I hope you lose in court against the doctors or hospital you sue.

Nah. This is the sentiment of MOST pro choice advocates. It used to be "Safe, Legal, and Rare." Because back then, we understood life started at conception but very FEW exceptions were made. We did NOT call it "Just a clump of cells". We did not call it, "Just some tissue". It was, "As early as possible" "Not after a certain point" and "Put it up for adoption if you change your mind".

Now a days, it's "It's not a life at all, it's just some tissue, and it's only a baby when I PERSONALLY decide it is". <You all admitting you don't care about science or logical fact. It's human in it's developmental stages from the moment the egg is fertilized. And the only reason people DON'T want that to be the understanding is because people think it's their right to have consequence-less sex and have zero repercussions at all. It's people not wanting to take responsibility for their actions.

And here's the kicker. I have casual sex. I LOVE SEX. However, if I EVER got a girl preg and she kept it, I'd be a responsible adult and help take care of it. As the child would be half mine.

And contrary to the idea that denying a woman's ability do "Chose" is somehow, "Boiling women down to just their ability to give birth", No it's not. Not even remotely. It's just saying if you make a choice, and that choice results in a new life being created, you opted to make the choice that created it. It's not making women less than. It's holding men AND WOMEN accountable for their actions.

However, there is another element to this too. Which is another fun part of this WHOLE BS narrative. MEN are the only ones expected to have to be responsible. Both by society AND by law. They also, (in the west) do not have legal say over keeping the kid if the mother wants to get rid of it. So basically, your stance is probably, "Women should have carte blanche to have sex with NO consequences what so ever, but if the mother decides to keep her child the man has ZERO choice is if he has to pay child support in most of the western world. So again, we come back to this narrative of infantilizing women saying they can't be held to account for actions they themselves take. But others can be held to account for them.

How hard is it to stop having sex or don't have sex at all? Really though. Try being physically addicted to it to the point your mind actually gutter bombs into "It's fine I can stop living". A lot of Nymphomaniacs live that reality and often have to be on heavy medications to more or less kill their libido entirely. Except less than 5% of the world populace has that problem. It's a want that you are trying to pass off as a need.

This is an annoyed post mostly and probably moderately incoherent but honestly? This whole argument pissed me off. Women are not toddlers. Please stop pretending that being exempt from consequences is somehow "Empowering" and "A human right". It's not.

#discourse

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angel-in-your-basement · 6 days ago

Note

Hello, I saw your old post you reblogged and I’m not very familiar with tumblr, if you don’t mind could you elaborate on how tagging someone else’s post works(mostly how to do it)?

Absolutely! Tumblr etiquette is a little weird, in that people don’t use the features as intended, because the way it’s set up is kind of awful. And when I answer this, I want to emphasize that I’m not saying this is the “correct” way of using Tumblr, but what I have observed people do and prefer (myself included!)

Under the cut for more + examples 😊

So when you go to reblog a post, you have a few options for adding content to it - you can add content and/or add tags. So this is what it looks like when you go to reblog:

Content goes in the “Add something, if you’d like” section. So it would make sense that people use this to add their comments on posts, whether it be adding onto the idea in the post, or just affirmative comments like “omg THIS”. But the problem is specifically when people add low effort comments, because it adds onto the post and makes it longer. If several people do that, your post ends up looking like this:

Yuck. It’s just getting longer and longer without adding any actual value. So even though these people are using that space for its intended purpose, people generally don’t like it. Imagine if every post you saw had 5+ additions like this. It would clog up your dashboard so badly. BLAH!

So instead, people use the tags. Tags are generally intended to help people filter content, like #photography or #food, or whatever to make it easier to find, and people do use them this way.

But because the other way sucks, people will also put their little thoughts or comments in the tags too. Like so:

That way, you can add whatever low effort comments you want, and it isn’t adding to the post, so it’s not clogging up the space.

In terms of how do to it:

You’d tap “# Add tags” when you reblog and then type in what you want. Tags are created/separated by using the comma key.

That way, you can add all your silly little thoughts without it affecting how the post is reblogged. Tada! Content creators like myself generally love to see your comments, but prefer they not add on unnecessarily to our posts.

There is also replies (the little speech bubble icon you see on posts), but this a) doesn’t share the post on your blog and b) only pings the creator of the posts. Tags are ideal because you can share the post on your blog and share your lil thoughts specifically with your followers, who are really the main (and maybe only) people who care to see them.

I hope that helps!

#ask cala #kink education #I guess lol? more like tumblr 101 but whatever

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such-a-downer · 3 months ago

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The stream will be coming soon!

Though I want to live blog about this, I have a very important appointment on Monday and I might be MIA till afternoon.

But let me drop my Wind Breaker Bingo Card.

Edit: DISCLAIMER! Some of predictions here came from different discussions (for Endo's VA). This post and this one

Some of these are actually just crack or desperate takes. And you can see how biased is this bingo card towards Endo 😂🤣. As for the other characters, I can't grasp who are suitable voices for them. I didn't include Shingo Natori because he is already voiced by Junya Enoki.

Edit²:

Some honorable candidates I thought of for Endo: Hiroshi Kamiya and Taniyama Kishou.

As for Madoka Magica and Black Butler, I have not enough takes to make separate bingo cards for them so I'll just write them down.

I am desperately hoping for Keiko and Hikaru to make a comeback on both Madoka Magica and Black Butler, especially with Madoka Magica. Though Kalafina disbanded long ago, it's hard to picture the anime without being reminded of ed song "Magia". Kalafina is a special part of the PMMM franchise. But since it's confirmed that Yuki Kajiura is back again for the movie and Yuriko is also on vocal track, I have hopes that Hikaru will also be tapped to join.

With Black Butler tho, I have less hope of Hikaru or any singer of Yuki Kajiura to sing the ed/op of Green Witch Arc. Also, I doubt that SID will be part of the season because their music style kinda don't match well with the vibe of GW arc. The one I imagine for this season is Ali Project.

I don't have a lot to say for the additional cast but here they are:

- Aoi Yuki for Sieglinde Sullivan

- Yoshimasa Hosoya for Wolfram Gelzer

- Romi Park for one of the undercover female soldiers

If I ever recall something, I'll just put them through a reblog hahaha this took long

Ps.: if I'm not able to reply to comments and tags, then I've gone MIA and won't be back till Monday afternoon

#aniplex #wind breaker #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker manga #seiyuu #kodansha #black butler #kuroshitsuji #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #madoka magica #yuki kajiura #calling the seiyuu nerds again lol #hikaru #keiko #ali project

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nekoannie-chan · 1 year ago

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Something else

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Word count: 1042 words.

Summary: On Halloween night, weird things can happen.

Warnings: Smut, demons, hallucinations, horror.

A/N: This my entry to @jtargaryen18’s Jaimie’s Halloween Challenge 2023 with the prompt:

“The unexpected visitor.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @caplanbuckybarness @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989

Your honeymoon with Steve had been everything you had always dreamed of. They spent a few weeks in a paradisiacal place, enjoying the sun, the sand, and the love they had for each other.

It was their last night there; soon they would have to return to their daily lives, but that didn't mean they wouldn't enjoy it.

The dim candlelight filled the room with a soft glow. You and Steve Rogers were sitting on a couch, holding hands, until he traced soft circles on your back with his fingers, causing you to sigh softly.

"How can I be so lucky to have you by my side?" whispered Steve in your ear.

Damn, he knew how to get you excited!

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling incredibly close to him.

Because I'm amazing, you replied laughing. He shook his head, still smiling, then tilted his head and brushed your lips with his in a soft, slow kiss.

His hands slid down your waist and rested on your hips, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers began to gently trace the contours of your back.

Your hands found his face, and you caressed his jaw tenderly.

The sweet kiss turned into a passionate and fiery one. Steve lifted you off the couch and carried you to bed without breaking the kiss. Your bodies melted into a passionate embrace, and you kissed even more intensely. Clothes began to fly around the room as your hands explored Steve's body. He shuddered under your touch, and soft moans escaped his lips.

After a while, you separated, needing to catch your breath. Steve admired your naked body; no matter how many times he had seen you naked, he always did. He moved closer to you and began to caress your breasts gently, making your nipples harden under his touch.

You moaned and arched your back. Steve bent down to your chest. His eyes went from your chest to your face, and as his hands caressed you, he kissed your breasts, then licked your nipples, sucking and licking after each kiss.

Then he began to caress your nipple with his tongue while gently squeezing the other one with his fingers. You closed your eyes and were going to let him do whatever he wanted with you. His lips and tongue moved to your waist, then down your stomach. Then he continued down, and his hands and mouth caused indescribable sensations in you.

You needed him inside you. He raised his head, and with your eyes, you begged him. He immediately understood and gave you what you needed.

Now that we were back home, the excitement was about celebrating Halloween as a married couple.

You and Steve unpacked your suitcases and began decorating the entire house for the occasion. Pumpkins, fake spider webs, and twinkling lights created an atmosphere.

“Stark's party! “you suddenly said.

“What? "

“I had forgotten that Tony invited us to the Halloween party."

You were fiddling with the glass in your hands; this time you weren't having fun at the party; maybe you hadn't missed the rest, or maybe you missed the vacation you and Steve had.

“What's wrong?" Steve asked, sitting next to you.

“There are a lot of people here," you complained.

“Do you want to go home?" You knew what Steve meant when he used that tone.

“You know there will be kids ringing the doorbell."

“We can leave a bowl of candy outside, and they can have whatever they want," Steve proposed. You nodded, and they left the place.

However, Steve's plan didn't work; in less than fifteen minutes, the bowl was out of candy, so they decided it was better to start carving pumpkins while they waited for them to go trick-or-treating so they wouldn't be interrupted. Suddenly, they heard a knocking on the door, maybe a little louder. Steve shrugged, thinking it was the kids coming trick-or-treating.

When you opened the door, a wave of chills ran through you from head to toe. Standing in front of me, with a sinister smile on his face, was Brock Rumlow. I was sure Brock had died years ago, but here he was, standing in our doorway.

“Brock, how is that possible? You're dead," you stammered, unable to understand what I was seeing.

He laughed softly, a sound that sent chills down my spine. You immediately closed the door and went straight to check the cameras, ignoring that Steve was calling you. It couldn't be possible; you were sure of what you had witnessed years before, and there was no logic to what you had just seen.

“What happened?" Steve stopped you. You couldn't articulate any words because you didn't know how to explain what had happened.

“I need to see the cameras," was all you could manage to say, and you let go of Steve's grip.

He followed you, and if necessary, he would confront whatever had disturbed you. You began to search the recordings; however, what you found left you speechless.

“That's not what I saw." Your voice cracked as you searched for a logical explanation.

“But what did you see?" Steve asked with concern; he couldn't believe what the cameras were showing either.

“Brock... "

“But he's dead."

“I know. I had heard rumors that things like that happened on Halloween, but I thought they were just stories to scare kids," you commented, still scared, simply because you didn't know how to fight what had appeared.

Steve went downstairs. He was determined to face the threat. He opened the door but found no one. He watched carefully. Even though the street looked different and was too lonely for the time, it wasn't even eleven o'clock at night yet. Definitely, something strange was happening.

You watched the cameras carefully, although you didn't understand why Steve didn't do anything if the demon was in front of him. That's when you understood what was happening.

“Steve, close the door immediately and don't open it again!" You shouted; probably the demon was trying to enter the house.

Steve closed the door immediately and turned to you, looking for an explanation.

“We just have to wait for daybreak, and everything will be back to normal," you said.

#jamieshalloween2023 #steve rogers x reader #halloween special #halloween

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ratwars · 5 months ago

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Housekeeping. Long af, but important if you give a shit about my tagging system or actively use it to filter or regularly search my blog.

When I first started this blog I didn't know wtf I was doing or how to use tumblr. However as someone who loves making things searchable and sortable I quickly fell in love with the tagging system, and started extensively using organizational tags. I quickly settled on a consistent system I have been using ever since.

I used to never talk on here either but eventually decided to do that more but when my follower count was lower (which I miss tbh) it was super obvious when ppl would unfollow me, which tended to happen after personal posting. So I created a -pers tag so ppl could shut me up but still get 24 hr reblogs. Because I did have a queue going for the better part of those 2 years.

My queue ended a couple times in the past 6 months and I haven't had the time or energy to put it back together again. I miss having it. I also have less time and energy to deal with my own tagging system causing me to do most of my reblogs in 2 parts. Drafting things when I see them. Tagging and posting them later sometimes weeks later as my drafts build up. I have been even worse about leaving compliments and comments in tags as well because of this. I am tired and busy but I miss it.

In order to combat my issues and take the burden off of myself that I put on myself, and allow me to hopefully do more of what I enjoy while still sharing lots of rbs with yall, I am doing the following:

I will no longer be consistently tagging individual bsd characters except for a few. Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma, and Dazai (because I regularly search them on my own blog). And possibly characters who it is more of a rare treat to rb fanart of them, like Higuchi and Mori. I will no longer be tagging bsd posts that have other bsd tags in them as bsd separately (so the common "bsd fyodor, bsd fanart, bsd, would become bsd fyodor, bsd fanart.)

I will still tag new chapters on chapter release days and the day after, as well as continue to use the bsd spoilers tag for even longer.

For other series that are not bsd, I will only tag the series and no longer tag characters or use a fanart tag separately, with the exception of the dialovers Carla and Yui Komori tags.

I will no longer tag nature.

I will no longer tag quotes.

I will only use the "art" tag for non fandom related art, I will no longer use the illustration (or illlustration) tags.

I will use weirdcore or dreamcore tags but not both on the same post. It is important to me that ppl can still filter these out.

I will use -pers and -vent still, but with absolutely zero further promises that I will tag my own talking consistently. I will still put long or (things that I think would be) super upsetting under cuts like I have in the past. I will probably still delete things regularly.

I will no longer tag me reblogging my own posts as self rb.

I will keep my -whump on main tag, so ppl can filter that still. I will still tag cw eyestrain and cw flashing for accessibility. I will still tag blood and gore if it is intense and I post it here instead of my sideblog but I do not promise consistency.

I will still use my ask and tunes tags, and if I do special queues (like the friday fyo queue) I will tag those. I do plan on using my old queue tag as well or making a new one.

If I have gotten rid of anything that you actively filter please feel free to unfollow me even if we are mutuals. I also don't find it weird for people to visit my blog and interact with me without following me, so if you do feel you need to unfollow me but still want to search your blorbos on my blog, send me asks, or talk in my tags and replies, please do so and of course reblog and spam reblog from me to your heart's content. If you want to unfollow me and we have ever talked in dms before my dms are still open to you then as well. It doesn't bother me at all. This isn't so much of a new thing either in regards to my feelings about that, just a clarification I thought I should explicitly point out rn given the fact more of you might want to bail if you can't hide my bird posting for instance.

I might change or drop any of this if I feel like it. I enjoy being consistent, but I don't like feeling bound to it. And I realized I was which made me want to abandon my blog and start over without the imagined expectations. Instead I am trying this.

#i was going to wait to post this until i had my queue built and turned back on but realistically idk when that will happen so instead #ta-dah #i actually dont know how much of a difference this makes to yall since i dont know what ppl do and dont filter #if anything #but it makes a huge difference for me #im going to schedule a couple reblogs too so more ppl see it in case it is relevant to them at all

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

Text

Reparation

The balance of acknowledging what had been lost against what they had gained, and what they would only continue to gain as their family expanded, was a fine line they walked every day.

-x-

Hi friends!!

Today marks 2 years (!!) since I started this blog, so I thought I would write some classic me hurt comfort/family fluff to celebrate.

Thank you all so so much for being here. I still can't believe so many of you follow little old me! I am forever grateful for every comment, reblog, like, kudos. I love you all <3

-x-

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Pregnancy, discussion of grief/loss

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

At first, Emily isn’t sure what wakes her up.

She stretches slightly, adjusting herself around her pregnancy pillow, and blinks harshly as she looks at the alarm clock on her nightstand, the digital numbers bright and harsh against her tired eyes.

2.06 am.

“Emily?”

She looks to where the sound of her whispered name came from and spots Jack. The 8-year-old was standing by her side of the bed, lit from behind by the open bedroom door and the nightlight that they kept in the hallway for him if he needed to get up in the night.

“Hi honey,” she whispers, well aware of her husband still fast asleep behind her, his steady breath skipping over the back of her neck and his palm resting on her belly, “Is everything ok?”

He sniffs and she watches as he shakes his head, “I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, Jack,” she says, reaching out and pushing some of his sleep-dishevelled hair from his face, “Do you want to get in here with us?” She asks before thinking to herself there was a little less room in their bed than there used to be, the space in front of her that he’d usually sneak in to occupied by her pillow and her bump, her skin stretched to what felt like almost it’s limit now she was 8 months along.

She’s just considering having to wake up Aaron, something she was hesitant to do, to make some room for Jack when the little boy shakes his head.

“Hot chocolate?” He asks, his voice slightly shaky, and she knows she wouldn’t be able to deny him anything even if she wanted to.

Especially not this week.

The anniversary of Haley’s death was always hard, a day that fell right in the mix of all of their birthdays and holidays. It meant that there were moments always tinged with sadness, like Jack’s recent 8th birthday, the start of another year without his mother, the sharpness of her absence never dulled by the time that had passed or the happiness that often surrounded them all these days. The balance of acknowledging what had been lost against what they had gained, and what they would only continue to gain as their family expanded, was a fine line they walked every day.

There were some days, like today, when the sadness would always inevitably win out, something that they were trying to teach Jack was ok.

“Of course,” she replies, gently removing Aaron’s arm from around her waist and carefully putting it down on the bed between them, grateful when he stays asleep. Jack wasn’t the only one prone to his nightmares returning this time of year, and she wanted to ensure her husband got all of the rest he could.

She sits up, something that took more effort than it used to, and catches her breath before she stands up. She reaches for Jack’s hand immediately and leads him out into the hallway, ensuring that she pulls the door to the bedroom closed behind her as she goes. They walk down the stairs and she switches on the light in the hallway before she turns to Jack, her heart aching at the sight of dried tear tracks on his cheeks how she could see his face clearly.

“Want to go sit in the living room whilst I make the drinks?” She asks, and he shakes his head fiercely, holding onto her hand even tighter as if the mere idea of being separated from her was too much for him to handle, “It’s ok”, she says, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “You can come with me.”

He smiles in relief and puts his spare hand on her stomach, “Is baby brother ok?”

She nods, her heart swelling at his love for his little brother. When she first found out she was pregnant she was worried about Jack’s reaction, convinced that he would struggle with the idea of no longer being the sole centre of her and Aaron’s world. But he’d been excited from the start, full of so many questions and joy, his only disappointment being how long he’d have to wait to meet the baby. She’d always worried somewhat about her place in Jack’s life, convinced at first that if she loved him too much she would be overstepping, a fear that now felt ridiculous even to her. She loved him just as much as the baby in her belly, the instinct to protect him from everything, even the things she couldn’t change for him, almost overwhelming at times.

“He’s ok,” she says, moving his hand so he can feel where the baby is kicking, “He wants hot chocolate too.”

Jack looks up at her, the same awe in his eyes that Aaron had when he felt the baby move too, even this many months after the first time it happened, “He’s kicking.”

Emily chuckles and walks into the kitchen, “He’s always kicking,” she says as Jack lets go of her hand and sits on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She turns to look at him just before she opens the pantry, “The one with marshmallows?”

He nods, his brow furrowing in a way that once again makes her think of her husband, “Of course.”

The seriousness of his tone makes her cover a laugh with a cough, “Of course,” she repeats, grabbing the correct box of Swiss Miss from the shelf. She goes about making them a mug of the drink each, aware of Jack watching her every movement as if she might disappear. Once the hot chocolates are ready she picks them both up and smiles at him, “Let's go sit on the couch.”

Jack nods and gets down from the stool. He keeps pace with her all the way to the living room, even though she was much slower these days than she usually was, her walk now a waddle, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Jack had always been a tactile kid, seeking out affection from her and Aaron in a way she knew they’d miss when he was a teenager and decided they weren’t cool anymore, but this was different. He was clinging to her, sticking to her like glue in a way he never had before.

She puts the hot chocolates down on the coffee table and warns Jack they are still too hot to drink before she sits down, groaning as she tries to get comfortable, shifting so her son wasn’t entirely pressing on her lungs. She blows out a breath as she rubs a hand over her stomach, looking at Jack before she offers him a hand.

“Come here, baby,” she says, and he doesn’t need asking twice - joining her and curling up against her side, his head resting on her shoulder. He reaches for her hand again, idly playing with her wedding rings, and she kisses the top of his head, “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, “I don’t know.”

She waits to see if he was going to say anything else, but Jack continues to look at their joint hands, so she decides to push him a little further, wanting to do anything to make him feel even the tiniest bit better.

“Was it about your mom?” She asks, feeling how he tenses against her. She plays with his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way that comforted both him and Aaron, she briefly wonders if the little boy she’d have in a matter of weeks would be the same.

“Kind of,” he replies, sniffing as he pulls back to look at her, “George was there but instead of Mommy…” he drifts off, his eyes shimmering with tears, “Instead of Mommy it was you.”

She feels her heart drop, and she cups his cheek, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, “I’m right here, sweetheart,” she says, trying to push back the emotion that was climbing up her chest, her hormones entirely in control these days, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Emily knew that it wasn’t a promise she could necessarily keep. She and Aaron had been through enough to know there were no guarantees, she’d died once before, but she could mitigate risks where she needed to. As soon as they started to talk about having a baby they’d agreed that one of them would have to leave the BAu. Partially because it seemed unfair to ask Jessica to look after two children, one of them an infant, when they were away, but also because the further along they got, the more injuries they acquired on the job, the more Emily and Aaron came to realise how much they were risking. Jack had already lost one parent, and if the worst happened at work or away on a case, they wanted to make he wouldn’t lose two more.

After she returned from maternity leave she’d be starting a new job at the FBI. She’d be taking over the counterterrorism unit, a job that had significantly less field work than her current one, and she’d be able to go home most nights. She’d miss spending all of her time with Aaron, but she knew being with their sons was the right thing to do.

Jack sniffs, and she wipes a tear away from his cheek as he speaks, “I miss my mom.”

“I know you do, baby,” she says, losing her battle against her hormones as a tear slips past her lash line, “And it’s ok to be sad.”

“I know,” he replies, reaching up to wipe her tears from her cheek, “Can we have our hot chocolates now?”

She chokes on a laugh as he changes subjects in a way that only a child could, and she nods, “Of course,” she tries to sit up but can’t, her centre of gravity completely different to how it used to be, “You might have to get them though. Be careful.”

He nods and stands to pick up the drinks, “Can we watch a cartoon whilst we have them?”

She playfully narrows her eyes at him, “You could convince me of anything,” she says, reaching for the remote control, “We’ll have to have the tv on really quiet though, ok? Daddy is still asleep.”

Jack snuggles up to her side as she turns on the tv, finding a channel with cartoons before she places the remote back down on the arm of the couch. They drink their hot chocolates in silence and when they are finished Jack rests against her, sinking further into her side. She can tell he’s getting sleepy, and she’s just about to suggest going back to bed when she hears a door opening upstairs followed by footsteps on the landing and then the stairs. She looks towards the living room door as Aaron approaches and she smiles at him.

“Hi,” she says quietly as he walks towards the couch, “Sorry if we woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” he replies, sitting next to her on the opposite side of Jack, “Are you ok? It’s nearly 3 am.”

She nods, her hand on his cheek as she pulls him in for a kiss, “I’m ok,” she looks at Jack and smiles when she sees he’s now fast asleep, his mouth slack open and his cheek pressing into her shoulder. “Jack had a nightmare,” she explains as she looks back at her husband, “He said he wanted some hot chocolate so I brought him downstairs.”

Aaron smiles at her, “The Emily Prentiss nightmare cure.”

She hums as she thinks of the first time she’d done this for him, when a few months into their relationship he’d driven across town to her apartment because he’d dreamt that something had happened to her. Shortly afterwards they moved in together, the first step towards the family they now had.

“It works and you know it,” she quips. She looks him up and down, her eyes lingering on how tight his shoulders are, the clench of his jaw. How he’s looking at her just like Jack had less than an hour ago, “Are you ok?” She asks, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “Do you need a hot chocolate too? Because I won’t lie to you, it might take an industrial hoist to get me off of this couch.”

He laughs and shakes his head at her, leaning in to kiss her before he places his spare hand on her bump, “You’re gorgeous, and I’m not going to ask my very pregnant wife to go make me a hot chocolate, I think that would put me on a list of bad husbands somewhere.”

“Never,” she replies, squeezing his hand, “You’re the best husband ever.”

He chuckles and shakes his head as if he’s going to disagree with her but he doesn’t, instead, he sighs and looks over at his son before he looks back at her, “I had a dream about Haley. The same as always. I woke up and you weren’t there and…I panicked.”

She sighs and rests her forehead against his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

“God, no, Em,” he says shaking his head, “Don’t apologise, you were down here being an incredible mom, it’s just a rough week.”

“It is,” she agrees, kissing his shoulder through his T-shirt before she pulls back to look at him, “Are you ok now?”

Aaron nods, “I will be. I’ve got you and Jack,” he smiles as the baby kicks against his palm, “And this little guy.”

She chuckles, “Let me tell you, he doesn’t feel that little when it’s your organs he’s squished up against.”

Aaron smiles before it slips off his face, making him contemplative as he looks at her, “I’m sorry.”

She tilts her head at him, confused about what had led him to apologise. “For what?”

“That you have to deal with this,” he says, smiling sadly, “Being woken up in the middle of the night when you’re already exhausted.

She smiles sadly at him before she leans in to kiss him, “You have nothing to be sorry for, honey,” she assures him, resting her forehead against his, “There is nowhere I would rather be than pressed up in between all my Hotchner boys, even at 3 am.”

Aaron can’t help but smile at her, and he kisses her once more before settling back against the couch, pulling her into his side, “I’m not sure what I believe in,” he says, keeping his voice quiet, well aware Jack is still fast asleep, “But I like to think that Haley is happy for us, for Jack, wherever she is,” he rubs idle circles on her belly, almost chasing the movement of their son underneath her skin, the promise of new life seemingly easing some of the fear his nightmare had induced.

She looks at one of the photos on the mantle, at a picture of Haley, Aaron and Jack from a different lifetime, proudly displayed in amongst the rest of their family photos, right next to one from Emily and Aaron’s wedding. Grief and sadness and the trauma they had all endured would always be part of their lives, sticking to them in a way that was permanent. But there was also joy and happiness, a sense of love that chased away anything else hiding in the shadows, an invisible force that always reminded them that there was always something better to come.

She smiles at him, “I like to think that too.”

-x-

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