#random prompt I wrote last night

[bluebunnyears-08]

"There is no light without shadow, and there is no happiness without pain"

This is the fox Sonic knew, a person so happy and cheerful it blinded him of cruel nostalgia, almost mocking him of something he used to have. Something precious, something you can only have once. And Nine never got to savor it, as it was taken by the cruel fists and harsh oppression of life. He turned jaded, covering the last purity he had under a shield of snark and hatred for the world he was forced to grow in.

This fox, who wore his tails proudly, letting them grow, never hiding them in a sleek metal cocoon, smiled a smile Nine longed to have again, their blue eyes shimmering with wonder as they gazed upon him, as if he was worth their curiosity, of such innocent curiosity.

Nine swallowed an odd lump in their throat, feeling that pain in his chest. And he hated it. All of that cheerfulness, that sweetness, that gentle, naive soul the fluffy fox gave the world when Nine never had a chance; he loathed all of it.

But this was the only way to even be in the same world as Sonic, this is the only way he can be with Sonic, the only way he can be alive. So he tolerated the fox. He wasn't buddy-buddy with him, but he tried not to be hostile or rude. He stayed aloof, despite wanting company so bad, he stayed snarky, no matter how much it made him want to kick himself, he stayed strong and fierce, because he didn't deserve comfort that was meant for someone else.

He stayed broken and in secret sorrow, because it's the only way to feel that he's his own person; because he's just the shadow of someone who's fixed and happy.

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ skz and the reason you aren't together !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: angst

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: i loveee me some angst so i hope you'll enjoy! <3 seungmin's part is slightly longer because i wrote it for my beloved keisy @starlostseungmin <3

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - he chose work over pursuing his feelings for you.

He knows how you feel about him, and you know how he feels about you. Things couldn’t be simpler.

But in reality, things were more complicated than ever. Yes, Chan did in fact confess, but with the same breath he also told you this could never go any further.

You were devastated, confused and sad, not understanding what was going on through that bright mind of his.

You liked each other, you both wanted this – so, what was the issue?

It wasn’t you, it could never be. It was him, as always.

He was too busy, his job too demanding to leave any room for you and the precious feelings you’ve developed for him.

Chan felt like he didn’t deserve your love, because he could never be there for you in the way you needed a boyfriend to be.

He could never be there every morning when you woke up, kiss you goodbye each time you left the house or greet you with a big hug when you returned. He just couldn’t, too caught up in work to even notice the hours tick by.

You didn’t deserve an absent lover, one that could not put you first.

No matter how much he cared, how much his whole being longed for you, his job would always be his main priority. Then, his seven brothers. While you, would end up being third on his list.

It pained him to admit it, and even more so admit it to you but since he respected you so much, you deserved nothing but the truth.

This information crushed you, every word that left his mouth a stone that contributed to the mountain you were quickly getting buried under.

“But I love you.”

He shook his head, brown curls getting into glossy eyes. “I love you too, but we – I, can’t.”

At the end, just as you were preparing to depart his studio, he stood up. Without thinking, you hugged tightly, aware this would be the last time before things would change forever.

“Please don’t be sad because of me.”

How could you not? How did he expect you to not mourn the beautiful relationship you could have had, if only he wasn’t so against it?

If only he would have chosen you.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - because he broke up with you.

Yeah, pro idol Minho ended your relationship on a random Thursday night, taking everyone but most importantly you, by complete surprise.

“Let’s break up.”

You can’t believe your ears, especially since you’re in his house, eating the food he just prepared for the both of you, in his kitchen while wearing one of his shirts.

Nothing was amiss, nothing even prompted it. Things have been going great in your relationship – there was no recent argument or disagreement that could explain his sudden decision.

Blames it on his work and his hectic schedule, trying to appear as detached and unaffected as he possibly could. But you know better; you see it all.

The way his fist clenches over the dish rag, how his eyes won’t meet yours even for a split second. This isn’t something he wants to do, not in the slightest. Yet, here he is, breaking both of your hearts for a reason he doesn’t even bother revealing.

It stings in the worst way possible, even more so when you stand up to hug him and he just puts a hand up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please, Y/n. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Tears well up in your eyes and that’s when he looks away, slumping against the counter as a sniff reaches his ears. He’s gripping the wood with such force you’re afraid it might actually snap.

“Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”

But Minho doesn’t respond, not even as you start crying and begging him to talk to you, to tear down the wall he suddenly plopped right between you two in your relationship.

He’s so close, mere inches away, but his heart that belonged to you, that always responded to yours, is suddenly grabbed harshly out of your hands and shipped away to an unknown destination.

“Minho.” You sniff, not hiding your tears or the pain that’s slowly ripping your heart to pieces and letting them fall all the way down to your stomach, trying to escape from the torture. Because even the idea of not having him in your life was pure torture.

“I think you should go.”

He walks past you, head hung low as he throws the dish rag on the table without saying anything else, putting an end to the conversation. An end to your relationship. Throwing it all away like the time spent together meant absolutely nothing to him.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t, not like he’d ever let see you the way he broke down as you slammed the front door shut, walking out of his life for good. Even if you didn’t agree, it was better this way.

Your life was better, and happier, without him in it. That’s what he kept murmuring to himself as he slid to the ground, against his bedroom door, crying while clutching his chest, afraid his heart might stop beating.

It was all for the better.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - is already in a relationship.

The most stupid thing you can ever do in this lifetime is fall in love with someone who’s already in love with another.

Not only is he in love, he’s also in relationship that’s been going on for three beautiful years.

The thing is, you haven’t always had feelings for Changbin.

It was weird, really. For the longest time now, he was just your bubbly co-worker who laughed so loud the whole department could hear him. The mood maker of the company.

It happened on the annual Christmas party, where you drunk a little too much as you were nursing a broken heart after your ex dumped you out of the blue.

The whole world was spinning but you were happy – happier than you’ve been in months.

Noticing you could barely stand, Changbin ever the gentleman, offered to drive you home.

You complained and complained but after some more convincing from him, Changbin managed to coax you onto the passenger seat of his sports car.

You were silent the whole ride but as he parked on your driveway, he gasped, worriedly grasping your hands and exclaiming about the tears on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying.

But that’s when the dam broke and it all came to the surface, tears flowing freely down your face and neck as you sobbed, telling Changbin everything from beginning to end.

And he listened, holding your hands and nodding when appropriate, offering you the occasional sip of water or a tissue to wipe your face, not interrupting once.

His heart broke for you, unaware his mere presence was already working on mending yours.

The next morning, you almost didn’t show up to work as you remembered everything, how you made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone but especially Changbin. But something pushed you to do so.

As you arrived, a care basket was on your desk, accompanied by a little note with a crooked smiley face and then, he appeared, doing the exact same expression.

And you laughed, wholeheartedly. And you continued to do so as you began taking your lunch breaks together, working side by side and even taking turns on driving the other home.

Falling for him was inevitable, but you didn’t mind, all warm and fuzzy on the inside as the heart your ex broke was anew.

That is, until you met her. You and Changbin became so close that he couldn’t help but want to introduce you to his other half, the woman who loved him unconditionally that knew a little too much about you.

And just like that, your heart shattered once again, the pieces so tiny they were easily blown away in the wind, leaving behind a big whole were all of your love once resided. How could you be so stupid to believe someone could ever love you again?

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - you found out he was in love with someone else.

Plain and simple, as heartbreaking as it sounds.

Let me paint this picture: you two are best friends, each other’s safe places. You always talk about everything and anything with one another, feeling comfortable to share even your darkest secrets.

Because of that, you genuinely thought he might even reciprocate your feelings at some point.

But one day, as you’re both hanging out at your house, watching a movie, all of the hope and daydreams you held in your heart for a happy ending with him just get crushed.

He suddenly dumps this new information on you while he’s casually munching on some popcorn, watching the couple on the screen confess their love for each other like your heart didn’t just stop beating.

You’re so taken aback that you stop breathing for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes.

For some strange reason, Hyunjin doesn’t meet your gaze even as it goes silent between you two and your eyes keep burning holes into the side of his head.

Only when you finally tear your gaze away, eyes glossy as you try to murmur encouraging words does he finally turn to you.

His breath hitches in his throat at the sight but other than that, he doesn’t comment on it.

The whole ordeal feels like a slap in the face, hurting more than any physical injury you’ve ever sustained but, it’s not like you could blame anyone but yourself for it. You’ve missed your chance and now, Hyunjin was going to be in a happy relationship with someone else.

So, as expected from any best friend put in that situation, you say through gritted teeth.

“You should confess.”

Hyunjin searches your face for any sign of discomfort and finds many – but, as expected, doesn’t say anything, just looks away and nods slowly. Like he just can’t maintain eye contact for more than five seconds at a time.

And that’s the end of it. The whole vibe changes, now uncomfortable and cold and it’s clear that neither of you is paying any attention to the movie anymore.

But he still remains till the end, and when the credits start rolling, you stand up first and bid him goodnight without your usual warm smile or departing embrace before sprinting up the stairs to your room.

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest as your door slams shut, the tears in your eyes bringing him unexplainable sorrow.

And as he leaves your apartment that night, down in the dumps, you know things between you have changed forever.

Because that’s the last time you and Hyunjin talk.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - he hasn’t confessed yet.

Jisung has liked you for a while now but for some reason, every time he wanted to take that leap of faith and finally confess, something always came up.

You were interrupted, plans had to be cancelled or you were simply too busy to even talk to each other.

It was driving him insane, especially when he’d spot you at an event surrounded by people he felt he couldn’t push through, missing his chance at your attention every time.

He felt forced to watch you from the sidelines, a background character in your life that would never get his moment to shine.

You were friends, but he often felt he cared about you more than you cared about him and it was tearing him apart.

Each time you smiled or laughed at one of his jokes, everything around him disappeared as time seemed to come to a stop, making you look even more beautiful. Which was a hard thing to do since you were already perfect in his eyes.

His insecurities and crippling fear of rejection were literally ruining his life, preventing him from experiencing the love story he’s been yearning for.

Jisung was good at hiding his feelings from you, but sometimes, he slipped up.

Like that time, he held your waist for a little too long, or guided your hands over the piano keys like it was the most natural thing in the world. Those moments when he wasn’t overly conscious, when he got lost in the moment, were your favorite.

You see, in his mission to prevent you from discovering how insanely in love he was with you, Jisung managed to make you believe the opposite. That he hated you. Okay, maybe not hate, just strongly dislike.

Always avoiding being left alone with you, barely meeting your eyes or pulling away when you got a little too close. He seemed repulsed, and it hurt you.

Where you really that unpleasant in his eyes?

He was nice and bubbly around everyone else, no matter the gender. Why couldn’t he be the same Jisung whose smile made your heart skip several beats around you, too?

This went on for a long while, which solidified the idea he hated you in your head, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

One day, Jisung almost walked in on you and Felix…hugging on the practice room floor? His heart dropped, brows furrowing in confusion. Felix knew how he felt about you, he would never disregard that, right?

Everything clicked when he heard your muffled sobs and pained voice.

“I give up, Felix.” You said, hiding your face in his chest as a loud sob escaped you. “Jisung hates me, it’s official! I tried so, so hard but it was no use.” Felix murmured something back, deep voice uncharacteristically soft as he comforted you, caressing your back.

Jisung couldn’t hear what he said though, eyes filling with tears as the only thing resonating in his ears was the pounding of his own heart. You thought…he hated you?

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - because your relationship is too…complicated at the moment.

Complicated didn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the ray of sunshine.

He was your ex that somehow slithered his way back into your life again, only this time, as a friend. Not even, just an acquaintance that knew too many of your secrets and biggest aspirations.

There was no denying the feelings you still harbored for him, the flame flickering in your heart each time he was around; each time he spoke, he smiled, he laughed or even as much as looked at you, your heart thumped so loudly in your chest you were afraid he was able to hear it.

It was embarrassing, especially since he didn’t seem as affected.

Your relationship ended on a sour note – arguing, screaming, crying, the whole package.

Yet a few months later, when you happened to be at the same party, Felix accompanied by a friend walked up to you like nothing even happened, greeting you brightly.

It was horrible, and you almost cried right there and then, missing the way his doe eyes took in all of the little details that changed about you ever since you broke up, desperately committing them to memory.

Like he never wanted to forget, because he didn’t. Felix never wanted to forget about you, even if you didn’t love him anymore.

And so, this happened a few more times until the inevitable took place.

You kissed. And never spoke about it.

And then you kissed again, and again, until he was coming over to your house in the middle of the night to do more than kiss.

It messed with your head, the way he was looking at you – like you hung the stars on the night sky for him and him alone. Like he loved you and wasn’t breaking your heart each time those plush lips kissed every inch of your skin, worshipping every part of your body.

“Why do you keep coming back?” You’d whisper one night, resting your head on his naked chest as the moon bare witness to your unspoken feelings.

“You keep calling.”

“And when I’ll stop,” you move to look at him, face mere inches away from his, hands supporting your weight on his chest, “will you still come?”

He hesitates, staring straight into your eyes. “Most likely, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Yeah…complicated.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - because he is your best friend.

For most, the transition from best friends to lovers was as natural as breathing, something inevitable that was bound to happen one way or the other. Not for Seungmin.

He didn’t even allow his mind to go down that road, to think about being more than friends with you, one of the people he held the closest to his heart.

Not because he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, but because he was afraid.

Yes, he was afraid that once that line was crossed, the one that kept you firmly in place in the beautiful friendship that only blossomed and became very special over the years, it would all disappear.

Things would change and shift, which would bring forth your downfall.

In his eyes, the risk of fighting and breaking up was too big for him to even consider taking your relationship to the next level. He didn’t want to lose you, never.

But what he failed to take into account was that you would not stay single forever.

That’s why, the moment you skipped over to him and squealed about having a date, his heart almost stopped beating.

His world was spinning, like an earthquake started in his head which was quickly crumbling down every single wall and boundary, and rational decision he ever made over the years.

“You…have a date?” He gulped, ignoring the alarms going off in his head that were deafening him. “With who?”

“This guy from work.” You shrugged, excitement dimming as your gaze met his, serious. “He isn’t the one I like, but I guess it will have to do for now.”

Seungmin wasn’t stupid but his heart understood your allusion before his mind did, thumping loudly and stealing his breath away.

You were talking about him. You were going out with another guy but were thinking about him – he was the one you liked!

Still, he didn’t vocalize a response, choosing to nod and pat you on the back gently, staring at anything else other than the disappointment that overwhelmed your whole frame, making you appear oh so small.

The day of your date arrived sooner than he’d like, and Seungmin was miserable, especially since you texted him the location ‘just in case’.

Usually, he was more than happy to know where you were, safe and sound, but this time he would have preferred you didn’t let him know you were with another guy at the restaurant you frequented together.

Hours passed, and night was making its presence known, but still no sign from you. Was he worried? No. Because for once, you staying out meant the date was a success and you were having the time of your life with this guy that wasn’t him.

That’s until, a mere half an hour later, loud knocking had him off the couch in a second, opening the door to find you frowning, and with tears in your eyes. Opening his mouth to speak, shocked, thinking something had happened on the date, your finger hitting his chest stopped him.

“Why didn’t you come?” You sniffed. “I thought going out with someone else would finally prompt you to admit that what we have is more than a simple friendship! Do you hate me that much?”

He was speechless, grabbing you by the elbows as you barged in, tears streaming down your face.

“Answer me, Kim Seungmin!” Well, he was fucked.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - isn’t sure what he feels for you yet.

Or better yet, his commitment issues prevented him from admitting to any feelings he might have.

See, you weren’t just friends. You were a little more than that, spending most of your free time together going to cute cafes and what would be considered dates, acting all lovey dovey.

That is, when you weren’t spending the weekend bound to his bed. That wasn’t fair, sometimes he was the one tied up. A very mutual arrangement.

Jeongin managed to drag you into a situationship you were now too deep into to break off, having developed actual feelings.

But each time you tried to speak to him about said feelings, he’d close off quicker than a frightened snail, impossible to reach.

After each one of these occasions, he wouldn’t contact you for days on end, sometimes even weeks, leaving you wondering if he’d ever come back.

He always did, he couldn’t stay away from you no matter how much he tried.

Even if he messed with other people in that time, he’d still make his way back to you, smiling like nothing even happened and ready to give you all of his attention and affection again.

It was exhausting, and very, very painful.

But you still welcomed him back with open arms, too happy to see him to even care that each time he appeared in your life again, you were not the same.

Every time he disappeared and you didn’t say anything, a piece of your heart was ripped off harshly, stomped on and then thrown in the trash, devoid of any color or life. Like an old toy, forgotten in favor of a new, shiny one.

But Jeongin didn’t care. It’s not like he could be bothered to pick up your scattered pieces – they didn’t interest him, you did.

Not like he ever noticed the light in your eyes dimming each time he stormed back into your life after pretending you didn’t exist for weeks.

To be honest, you don’t think you’ll ever be together.

Not now, or in the future.

No matter how much you hated to admit it, the facts were neatly laid out before you – Jeonging didn’t care about you at all, no matter how sweet, loving or good you were to him.

He thought you couldn’t notice, that your love for him was too blinding for you to see anything else other than him.

But you did. And he also did when one day, for the first time since he met you, as he stumbled out of a bar, giddy and tipsy with his phone to his ear ready to hear your sweet voice, his call didn’t go through.

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Overly Cautious

Prompt: Katakuri comes back from a mission to learn you're pregnant despite never wanting to be a father.

Requested by anonymous

Katakuri X Fem Reader

Katakuri had been sent on a mission to retrieve something, leaving you alone, having you stand in as the Minister of Flour while he was away. Everything was going well; you had done this plenty of times in the past. But some of the workers had noticed you not eating as much, you’d wave them off without a concern. The concern really came when a cake was being made and just the smell of it made you want to vomit.

         You couldn’t hide it from anyone, you were in the middle of a meeting about the upcoming tea party and what pastries would be served. Everyone forced you to see a doctor, no one wanting to deal with the wrath of your husband if he got back to find you sick.

         And that’s how you ended up in the ward, a doctor running tests and looking you over. Much to your dismay numerous curious eyes also making sure you wouldn’t leave this forced appointment. “And when was the last time you were sexually active?” The question threw you off guard, nearly spitting out the tea that you had been allowed to drink.

You’re face burning red as you whip your head around to look at those who had forced you here. None of them dared to make eye-contact with you, some whistling while looking off in a random direction. They tried to protest when you kicked them out, but you refused to discuss such things in front of so many people. Once the door was finally closed the doctor, who was not too amused asked the question again. “It’s been a little a while, 7 or 8 weeks I think,” Thinking back to the last intimate night you had with Katakuri, he’d been so busy lately that it’d had been longer than normal.

The doctor wrote some notes down and continued with other questions before doing some blood tests. You sat back, expecting this to be a simple flu. That would give you a headache, you’d be forced to bedrest as to not spread it and not slow down progress. The doctor padded his way back into the room, flipping through the papers reading the results of everything he had tested for. “Well, it seems as though you’re pregnant.”

         You took the rest of the day off to think about things. Katakuri had adamantly told you he didn’t want children. He didn’t want to pass down his genes in fear of what could happen, you understood his concerns and agreed to not try. And while you were sexually active, contraceptions were used at every avenue, Birth Control, Condoms, Spermicide, even a Plan B if there was a thought of something going wrong.

         Katakuri would be getting back from his mission in a couple days, so it’s best to just wait until then. Can’t be announcing things like this. As much as you’d prefer to sweep this under the rug, Big Mom was someone who didn’t partake in abortions, wanting a large family and everything, it’d be counter-productive in her mind. So as much as you wanted too, you’d have to go to a different island, and that included having Katakuri with you to avoid Big Mom’s gaze.

         But your plans changed quickly, despite clearly telling the Doctor to keep the news secret, the next day you arrived to the office with banners and some tastefully small cakes. Cards going around with small gifts as though it was common place to celebrate so early on. You tried to get them to calm down, but everyone was overjoyed that their leader finally had an heir on the way.

~~~

         Katakuri stared off into the distance, leaning against the wall as the ship got closer to their homeland. It had been a pointless mission, delivering a letter to a foreign country, demanding there be talks of a marriage. He hated being away from Komugi island for too long, from his normal job as the Minister of Flour. There he’d at least be able to relax a little bit more than normal, and when he was with you, he could let his guard down completely. Trusting you to cover for him or tell him if someone was coming. Being on a ship where he refused to lay down in fear of prying eyes had taken a toll on him, no matter how short the trip was.

         As the ship docked some of his administrators found him, happy as ever with large smiles. He wasn’t listening too much to their words of congratulations, assuming it was just words on finishing the mission, he just wanted to make it home so he could finally sleep on his back.

         As he was bidding farewell to those around him, one of them said something rather confusing, “Ah, tell Y/N that the mid-wife will be around to talk to her next week. I forgot to let her know earlier.” A mid-wife? For his Wife? Katakuri swallowed the lump in his throat, reasoning that it had to have been due to some unforeseen baby boom in the town.

         But as he passed through the halls of his home, he noticed servants scurrying about more than normal. All with excited faces, some with parcels in their hands. It wasn’t until he got to your room pushing the door open to see you sitting at your tea table, a hand rubbing your forehead, “If it’s another gift then send it back. How many times do I need to tell you all to keep this quiet.” Your tired voice brushing past him while you waved your hand, not even looking in the direction of the door.

         You heard the door close and let out a heavy sigh, looking to the already inconvenient pile of baby toys, clothes, and furniture that people of the island had pushed onto you. Nobody in this god forsaken town could keep quiet, which would make things so much harder, if Big Mom got word of this, you were more than certain you wouldn’t be able to pass off a random miscarriage without her knowing the truth.

         “What is all this?” You jumped a bit, hearing your husbands voice. You never even got word of his arrival to the island, much less that he had already come home.

         “We need to talk.” You voice was serious as you looked over at him, he was staring down at you unmoving. “Why not sit down?” He stayed still, crossing his arms for an explanation and you sighed again, this wasn’t normal for him, but you were already too tired to deal with it.

         Your sigh caused Katakuri to take another step further, “I get that you must be doing some fundraiser or gala. But you shouldn’t have these donations in here.” You spit out your drink, looking up at you’re normally smart husband.

         “Excuse me?” The silence as he stares at you hit you hard, “You think I’m doing a fundraiser? And you think all these stupid things are donations? Is that really what you think?!” Your annoyance peeking through clearly. First the news got, then the storm of gifts, and now even your husband seems to be getting on your nerves. “Katakuri I’m pregnant.” You shake your head, stating it out right was best in these types of situations, “So, might I suggest you sit down so we can talk abou-“

         “Your idea of a joke is awful Y/N,” He walks over to the neat stacks of gifts, all of which you were sending back when you got the chance, “I mean really? You think staging some baby items is enough to convince me? This prank is in bad taste.” His regal voice showed no sign of joking and it made you more frustrated than you already were.

         “This isn’t a joke,” You were getting another headache but the subtle glare he shot you made it clear he wasn’t going to listen, “You know what? You just got home, why don’t you rest? I’ll send these gifts back in the meantime.”

~~~

         The next day Katakuri came to his office looking a little more refreshed and prepared for the day. He sits down in the confines of the space and starts looking through the reports, “It seems you fell a little behind while I was away. Why?” His smooth tone showing you he was ignoring everything you said the day prior.

         You had expected something like this to happen so you put the paper with the test result in front of him. “You’re lovely administers made me go to the doctors after some sickness.” His eyes scanned the paper, reading every detail until you could tell he landed on the prognosis. “I’m about 2 months along.”

         Katakuri sucks in his breath, you can tell by the twist of his eyebrow that this isn’t going to be fun, deciding to sit on the couch while you wait for his response.

Honestly, you barely had time to process this all yourself, being pushed and pulled everywhere by workers. The only time you had time to think for yourself was late at night when people thought you’d be sleeping. The first night you had spent just staring into the darkness that was the room trying to figure out the situation. Truly, you could relate to what Katakuri was probably going through.

         You two never planned on being parents. You vehemently discussed avoiding parenthood the natural way, maybe adopting if you’re mother-in-law became pushy. The thing you wanted most right now was a glass of whiskey, but for clear reasons you couldn’t get one. Your body felt so tense since finding out, your muscles aching from the lack of relaxing.

You were hoping that your husband would be the one to make sense of it for you, but seeing how he’s reacted so far, he was in the same boat as you. It stung, your heart dropping slightly as you put on this front of neutrality. But it was the best you could do, if you didn’t maintain this semblance of control over yourself, you felt like you’d break down.

Finally, your husband spoke, although his words didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it caused you to go further into the downward spiral that was your mind, “Well then whose is it?” His voice was dipped in venom but maintained a single tone, “If you wanted a kid so bad, we could have adopted.”

You bit your tongue, staring at the floor in front of you. He waited a couple second for a response but you couldn’t bring any words to come out before he continued, “You didn’t have to go behind my back like this.” His even tone made every muscle in your body tense more than they already were.

A knock at the door caught both of your attentions, yet your body was still tightly wound as you got up, opening the door to let whoever it was in. Someone with a bunch of papers and a wide smile looked back at you and you ushered them in while brushing your way out of the suffocating room.

Offering small smiles to those you passed as you hurried away from the situation. It was only after you had gotten to a small reading room and locked the door behind you that you slid down onto the floor. Your room was too far away and this was unused enough that no one would come looking here. A hand pressed against your stomach while the other tangled itself in your hair, gripping tightly to feel anything other than the heavy emotions that have flowed through you for days now.

You haven’t let anyone know of your own feelings on this matter, other than wanting to keep it on the down low, everyone assuming it was so you could Katakuri yourself, and yet somehow that one single voiced wish hadn’t come true. The entire island singing praise and you were the center of their attention.

You began panting, your throat swelling up making it hard to grasp at air, feeling your body start to shake. Even Katakuri wasn’t willing to listen. This has to be a lot for him, but I thought he loved me. Your body curling in on itself, the hand in your hair running down to grip at the back of your neck while your nails dug into your stomach. He even suggested I had cheated on him, found another man. The thought itself made you sick to your stomach, your heart beat drowning out any noise around you, and eyes squeezing shut as the world got darker around you. Am I just an object to everyone? You tried, and failed at opening your mouth, attempting to get any air to fill your compressed lungs. The beating of your heart the only reminder of that you were in fact alive.

~~~        

         Katakuri was walking down the hallways. Every time he passed someone who worked with you, he’d ask the same questions. All of them similar stories that made his heart twist with worry, and yet when he went looking for you, you were nowhere to be found. It had been hours since you disappeared from his office without a second glance, the thought of how you left was now hurting him, now that he’s had time to calm down and truly think about everything.

         Since no one could find you, he was the person that people were bringing presents too, all of which he ushered to be sent wherever you had put them, some people asking if he had seen you so they could ask more questions. He hadn’t even been back a full day and yet he was overwhelmed with so much. Stalking back to your bedroom, assuming that could be his one quiet place, maybe even find you again to try and have a conversation about everything.

         His heart jumped into his throat thinking about it, you had been trying to talk to him this entire time and each attempt was met with malice. You were so patient, letting him voice his hate and distrust. Watching you sit on the couch silently, neither confirming nor denying allegations said to you, though your knuckles turned white in your lap. But what else could he think? With every safeguard the two of you had put into place, how else could you had ended up with a child growing inside of you? Walking into your shared room he looked around, the pile of gifts in the corner seemingly doubled in size from previously in the day.         

Yet still, there wasn’t a sign of you anywhere. Katakuri paced a bit, looking for any sign that you had been here after leaving him earlier. But there wasn’t a single thing out of place or used compared to this morning. The realization that no one has seen you for most of the day hitting him with a cold sweat as he calls for security

[dsudis]

late night calls, sandman: "I know it’s stupid, but I needed to hear your voice.” ?

I almost never manage to write to prompts but hey, it's the summer of 2024! Sometimes crazy shit happens! I wrote this! Don't ask me how long ago I got this ask!

Dreamling, feat. retired Dream & comics spoilers for how he got that way.

The Sound of Your Voice

Hob scrolled back through his texts, reading the slightly disjointed conversation with Dream that had just trailed off into nothing, and then the previous day's exchanges. There were no selfies, but Dream sent pictures of the things he saw on his travels and found interesting--sometimes the sort of holiday snaps anyone might send, but often things that brought it firmly to mind that Hob was exchanging texts with the newly-human former Lord of the Dreaming, who was wandering the world in search of Normal Life Experiences.  

He meant to scroll past, but he found himself studying the photos all over again: the instruction card from an airline seat; a scrap of spiderweb lingering in an unidentifiable corner of two beige walls; a spoon wrapped in a paper napkin; a puddle on a cracked pavement. 

Hob zoomed in on that last, trying to discern a reflection in the puddle, trying to guess what Dream was doing with his hair these days by the shape of the shadow.  

It had been a month now that Dream had been off on his travels. He texted fairly often, and always responded when Hob texted him; they had even spoken twice. The first time had been four days after Dream set out, when Hob hadn't heard anything, and gave up on being cool and called.  

Dream had sounded mildly puzzled, but had been content to chat for twenty minutes. He had actually, haltingly, answered questions about what he was up to, what he'd seen, whether he was enjoying his adventure.  

Hob had managed to compress four days of quietly losing his mind worrying about him into saying toward the end, "Don't be a stranger, right? I mean--you're not my--not a stranger anymore, so--we can keep in touch."  

He'd nearly hung up then just to shut himself up, but Dream had said, "Yes, I see. I will."  

He seemed to have understood, even, because since then he hadn't gone more than twenty-four hours without texting Hob some random observation or sending a photo or just Good morning, Hob, usually at a time that was nowhere near morning where Hob was. 

Dream had even called, a week or so ago. It had taken Hob solidly ten minutes, in which Dream had scarcely paused for breath, to realize that despite speaking perfectly clearly, Dream was so utterly legless that he needed more absurd words for it. He was trolleyed. Gazeboed. Positively coat-hangered.  

"Your turn," Dream had said abruptly, still not slurring a bit but audibly loosened, so that Hob was suddenly sure that Dream was lying down, sprawled somewhere, collar undone, shirt perhaps riding up.  

Hob had been so entranced by that image--did Dream have a bit of an alcohol flush on, lighting up his pale cheeks?--that Dream had had to prompt him again to take his turn speaking. He had managed it just fine once he got going, happy as ever to have Dream listening to him.  

Dream had made a few encouraging noises, then gone quiet, until finally Hob heard a tiny, unmistakable snore. 

"OI!" Hob had shouted into the phone, and been rewarded with something that was almost certainly a snort and the clatter of a dropped phone.  

"Hob?" Dream had said, returning. 

"Drink some water, and lie down on your side to sleep," Hob had said firmly. "Your sister might not take you if you choke, but you don't want her to turn up and laugh at you, either."  

Dream had actually said, "Ugh, she would," before he hung up, and Hob had spent the rest of the day laughing to himself as those words echoed in his ears. 

He couldn't hear them now.  

It was something that had happened time and again. Each time he met with Dream, hanging on every one of the sparse words that dropped from his lips, he felt that he would have that voice etched on his memory, ringing in his ears, forever. For days after, he could hear Dream's words again, playing them over in his memory.  

But every time, before too long, he couldn't remember quite what those words sounded like. He might remember what the words were, but he couldn't hear them anymore. A few months on, he would forget the little quirks of Dream's expression. 

At some point, every time, he forgot Dream's face. 

He could remember what Dream looked like, generally: pale and black-haired, slim and tallish, dressed in black, obviously rich. But he couldn't bring Dream's actual face to mind, had to just wait out the century to see him again, to know him again. There you are. 

He'd already started forgetting after their belated meeting, when Dream turned up again, though Hob still hadn't known his name at that point. There had been a dream, first, and then his old stranger had just--turned up in a pub when Hob was out drinking, having his own miserable evening. He'd pulled out of it enough to realize that Dream was even worse off than he was, that Dream was on the precipice of something unimaginable, but nothing he said had changed any of that. 

And then he'd found himself attending Dream's bloody wake, which was how he'd learned who his oldest friend even was.  

He'd had about a week to try to resign himself to never having another reunion, never refreshing those fading memories ever again, no longer having even one person he could look forward to meeting again on the long road of his eternal life.  

And then Dream had turned up on his bloody doorstep: freshly human and tentatively immortal, as this new incarnation was technically his afterlife. 

Dream had been nearly as bewildered by it as Hob was, and had stayed with Hob for a fortnight. Learning to function in a human body had been undignified and frustrating, but Hob had done his best to smooth the way. He had accompanied Dream through his first experiences of human-sized emotions, which seemed to be something he had no idea how to handle, where had possessed at least a general theoretical understanding of the physically messy bits.  

After two weeks, though, he had seemed to be settling in, and Hob had let himself begin to think of what life might look like with his friend in it--and then Dream had announced that he needed more Life Experience and he was going off to find it. 

Hob knew he'd said it like that, the capital letters audible even though his new voice had lost some slight uncanny edge he'd always had before. He just couldn't hear it anymore, and he couldn't hear Dream's drunken rambling either. He scrolled down through the texts again, trying to hear how Dream would say the words, but he only caught an echo, the velvety depth of Dream's voice.  

It was late; he ought to stop fretting about this and sleep. There would be more texts from Dream tomorrow; sooner or later there would be another call, or Dream would turn up again. Everything was all right now; Dream was safe, and probably reasonably happy, out on his self-appointed quest to get the hang of being human. 

Hob just wanted to hear that from him. He just wanted to hear _anything_, so long as it was Dream. He hesitated another moment, but he had never been good at resisting temptation. He just had time to try to guess where Dream was--and therefore what time it was--before he hit the call button. 

It rang only twice before Dream picked up, sounding not just puzzled but properly disorientated, fuzzy with sleep. "'Lo? Hob? What's..." 

All the circling misery of the last few minutes lifted instantly. _There you are. That's you._ "Hi, love," Hob returned, falling back into his own bed. "I know it’s stupid, but I needed to hear your voice." 

There was a silence, but before Hob could take it back, or say something to give himself away even more, Dream said, "You could... do you think you'd like to--" 

"Yes," Hob said, sitting up again, feeling abruptly wide awake, ready for anything.  

"--Hear it more?" Dream finished.  

"Yes," Hob repeated, standing. "Yes, I--where--" 

"About five minutes," Dream said, which didn't make sense until he added, "it's a good thing you called, I didn't mean to doze off in the taxi." 

"Jet lag," Hob said, mouth running on autopilot as he looked frantically around his bedroom. It was in a bit of a state; he hadn't gotten properly settled into his own newest incarnation before Dream turned up, and in the last few days he'd been... more down than he'd realized until right now, when he wasn't anymore, at half two in the morning. "I keep telling you, you have to respect the circadian rhythm now you have one." 

"I have great respect for it," Dream said, sounding a little amused now. "Unfortunately--" he yawned, "international flight schedules do not, despite being entirely staffed by people who also need to sleep." 

"One of those mysteries we may never solve," Hob agreed. "Uh, your room's a bit--" 

"I will happily sleep on your kitchen floor at this point," Dream said, yawning again before he quite got all the words out. "Perhaps the stairs." 

"Well, we can do better than that, at least," Hob said, pulling on a pair of joggers and giving the covers a few quick tugs so the bed looked plausibly disheveled rather than like a place of insomniac torment. He dashed down the stairs to the front door, and threw back the locks, listening to Dream's quiet on the other side of the line. "Dream?" 

"Still here," Dream assured him, sounding a bit more alert now. "Just a few more blocks, I think." 

Hob leaned out the door, peering down his street, listening as if he would somehow know which car on another street was the one with Dream inside. "Are you..." Hob didn't even know how to finish the question, other than _here yet?_ which was a stupid one.  

"Yes," Dream said anyway, just as a car turned down Hob's street--a proper cab, not an Uber. Dream could be choosy about things like that. "I see you. I--I am very glad to see you." 

Hob raised and arm and waved, to be sure the cabbie would see him too, and cleared his throat before he could say, "Same to you, my friend." 

"Yes," Dream said dryly, even as the cab was pulling up, putting the rear door exactly level with the stairs to Hob's door. "I can see that." 

Hob glanced down at himself and realized that he was both shirtless and barefoot, and showing a wide strip of his pants on one side where he hadn't managed to pull the joggers all the way up. Hob sputtered, already starting to laugh at himself and unable to find a riposte; he looked up again and his breath stopped.  

Time stopped. 

Dream was on the pavement below him, straightening up out of the cab. He was looking straight at Hob, with just as much bright gladness in his face as the first time they'd seen each other again after their longest parting. 

Hob dropped his phone and darted down the stairs, colliding with Dream halfway and flinging his arms around him. He clung tight long after they were both steadied from the impact, pressing his face into Dream's messy hair. "Say something," Hob murmured, breathing in the not-too-recently-washed smell of him, soaking in the solidity of the angular body pressed up against his. 

"Your front door's closed behind you," Dream murmured. "And I think you've cracked the screen on your phone." 

"Bugger," Hob muttered, squeezing tighter; Dream's grip tightened in answer until Hob could feel his ribs creaking, and still neither of them showed any sign of letting go. "The door, I mean, that's a bother. The phone screen's been cracked for weeks." 

Dream gave a little _tsk_, pressed a kiss to the spot just before Hob's ear, and then let go all at once, sliding past him to retrieve his phone. Hob pressed his fingers to the spot where Dream's lips had pressed, and didn't manage to speak, or even think anything coherent, before Dream was straightening up again, phone in hand.  

"They can be replaced," Dream pointed out. "And you gave me a key before I left, so even the door is not such a great bother as that." 

"Yeah, I wasn't that worried," Hob said, fingers still pressed to the spot in front of his ear, staring at Dream, who was going just a bit pink. "Dream, you--" 

"You gave me a key," Dream repeated, making no move to get it out and unlock the door, still holding Hob's battered phone. "Before I left, you said. I could always. Come home." 

"Yeah," Hob said, and finally managed to drop his hand from his own face, reaching out with the same fingers to touch the brightening pink of Dream's cheek. "You always can, love. I always want to hear you, and I always want to see you." 

"I thought I--I thought perhaps--it might have been only..." Dream shook his head, giving up on putting it into words, but Hob didn't need him to spell it out; he'd worried himself that perhaps it was a problem that Dream only had him, only knew him. He'd known it was a good idea for Dream to go out into the world, even while he'd hated it. "But there is no one like you." 

"And no place like home?" Hob added lightly, because he couldn't not, even when he could see Dream's perfectly earnest expression, the steady dark intensity of his gaze.  

Dream snorted softly and put his hand over Hob's, pressing it to his cheek while he leaned in, closing the distance between them again.  

Hob started to tilt his head, ready to guide Dream into possibly his first kiss in a world where noses would not politely reshape themselves to stay out of the way, but Dream first pressed his forehead to Hob's, breathing deeply and saying nothing. Hob settled his other hand on Dream's cheek as well, keeping him close, breathing in for himself the reality of Dream here with him again, safe and sound and wanting to be here, of all the places in the world he might be exploring.  

"We should go inside," Dream murmured, and Hob just shivered at the secret sound of his voice before he made sense of the words.  

He tipped his head back to meet Dream's eyes, and found Dream smiling wryly. "I fear we may be carried away here on your front steps, otherwise." 

Hob dropped his hands to Dream's shoulders, where it was safe to grip as hard as he needed to while he let those words sink in, his whole body flashing hot at the possibilities. "Yeah. That's. Probably wise, yeah." 

Dream nodded, still smiling, and held up a familiar key. "Shall we?" 

Hob forced himself to drop his hands and turn to go back up the stairs. Dream followed him, close enough that Hob could almost feel him; when Hob turned the knob and realized that the door had in fact locked behind him, he had no time at all to be frustrated by it before Dream pressed up against his back, bringing his hands--and, crucially, his key--to join Hob's.  

"You gave me a key," Dream said, so close to Hob's ear that his lips brushed it, so deep and warm that Hob could drown in it. "You knew I would want to come home to you. And now here I am--" the key slid home, and Hob bit his lip to hold back a noise at that altogether unsubtle promise of things to come. "Coming home. To you. With you." 

Hob pushed the door open, but before stepping inside he asked, knowing it was ridiculous to hesitate, with Dream plastered up against him and hesitating anyway, "Will you tell me again tomorrow?" 

"I will tell you again every day," Dream said without hesitation. "Every time I come home to you, wherever that may be, it will always be you." 

"Right then," Hob said, and whirled in Dream's arms to kiss him as he stumbled back inside. Dream followed him, and didn't stop kissing him except to laugh when they staggered into a heap at the top of the inside stair. Hob tugged him back down into another kiss, and let Dream's voice echo in his ears a while longer.  

[ctrl-alt-bucky]

♡ Release ♡

Simon Riley x Female Reader [Requested prompt!]

The team finally has time to rest after months of hard work. Pent up, you and Ghost find a good outlet for release— each other.

Heed the warning below! There isn't much kink to this one tbh, just a mild hint of public play. If you want a spicier fic, check out the last one I wrote in this mini series. Ao3 and everything is in the notes at the end.

Enjoy! ;)

Word count: 3,479 | Chapters: 1 | Tags: Fempov, missionary, slow build, risky

Long, sleepless nights weren't an uncommon occurrence for you. It wasn't often you got respite during times of high tensions and potential war. Echoes of gunfire tarnished your dreams; stains of blood penetrating your body bone-deep, even when it's scrubbed clean of any signs; a reminder that you were forever marked by death.

As for Simon, he knew the experience all too well.

Words were hardly exchanged, just knowing looks and observations. You tightly wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the edge of a couch in the common room, the digital clock mocking you with the ungodly hour. Simon, his tired eyes and partially masked face, standing by the counter waiting for the coffee pot to start bubbling.

It started a few months after you got assigned to taskforce 141. You piece together from Ghost's slow acceptance of your presence that he's done this a while now— snuck out of the barracks in the middle of the night to make coffee or simply sit in the silent, empty room. But it wasn't empty for long. You'd make it to the room after him, often times. At first, you wouldn't acknowledge him, assuming Simon wanted it that way. But then that turned into small nods of greeting, then to sharing a pot of coffee while you two leaned with your backs to the counter, and then, somewhere in the mix, a bond grew.

It wasn't an every night occurrence. While deployed, your relationship with him was business as usual, and when you weren't shipped off to God knows where— well, it took days to recover. Days spent alone and half-asleep in a dark room with stashed weapons for all of the ‘what ifs’ your mind could conjure.

Dark circles sag under your eyes, matching Simon's. The team had been stationed here for a week now, and it was only just tonight that you decided it wasn't worth tossing and turning until daybreak.

A steaming mug of weak coffee sits on the counter. You greet Simon with a barely-there smile of appreciation and wrap your hand around the ceramic curve, your fingers curling over the handle. It has a marines logo on the front, faded and stained from time. Amusing, to say the least.

Simon is sitting down at the small fold-up table with his own mug, the liquid half gone. Something about him seems… off. He's more jittery than usual, and that's not the caffeine speaking. His eyes bore into the tabletop, his eyebrows pulling together; tense. The lower half of his face is covered by a black mask, missing its iconic skull design. It makes it hard to tell what he's thinking or feeling. You suppose that's the point.

“Price mentioned an intel mission earlier. Looks pretty secure, if we can get it in time.” You murmur quietly, breaking the tense silence.

Ghost nods his head, but doesn't look up from the table. He makes a small “mmn” noise in agreement and you figure he's not talkative tonight. No big deal. He usually isn't one for talking during these late nights anyway. You usually aren't either, but you're worried. You can't help it.

Sipping from your mug, you approach the small couch facing away from the table. There's a small, old tv in front of it, balanced on top of four crates with a board laid across them. There isn't enough funding distribution for a tv stand or good mattresses, but there's an endless shipment of coffee to keep your team functioning. Go figures. You're not one to complain though; You're lucky you even get entertainment in this place.

The tv is set to low, playing a random movie from the 80’s. You spot a VHS tape in one of the crates and wonder who the hell brought that along for a set up like this. While the intro to a murder mystery plays, you hear footsteps behind you, and Simon appears in the corner of your eye.

His gaze is on the tv, reading the title screen that flashes in bright colors and a font that’s distinctly from that era. You shuffle over to provide more room, and he hesitates before taking a seat, one arm staying propped on a small couch cushion wedged into the corner. He's man-spreading, but you don't mention it. The way your knees just barely brush against each other— it's the closest you've gotten to him outside of the occasional encouraging pat on the shoulder before a mission.

It's been ages since you've last felt someone's touch.

You curl your legs in so that they're tucked underneath you, your cold hands keeping the mug steady. Simon’s watching you from the corner of his eyes. It makes your heartbeat quicken.

Fifteen minutes go by. When you next bring the mug to your lips, you realize it's empty, having disappeared while you idly drank and stared in the general direction of the tv. You couldn't bother paying attention right now.

"Do you need help?" You ask quietly.

Ghost looks at you. He blinks.

“You look jittery.”

“I’m not jittery.” Ghost grumbles.

You raise a brow and he lets out a defeated sigh and looks up at the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, he puffs out a soft breath, calm and controlled, and shakes his head like he’s shaking himself free of the endless turmoil bubbling inside his head.

“Whaddya have in mind?”

✩⋆---⭑✧⭑---⋆✩

It starts out with cards.

Poker; Cribbage; Go Fish. Ghost has an unfair advantage with poker because of the mask, but he refuses to take it off when you point it out to him, so he ends up switching the game before you two even start.

Holding your set of cards like a fan, you peer over them as Ghost stares at the tabletop with an intense look of concentration.

Slowly, he reaches for a card in his own little pile (you expected him to be neat with his own cards, but he’s not. It’s chaotic. Nevertheless, it suits him)— and he glances up at you, his voice gruff when he asks, “Any queens?”

You pretend to study your deck. You know you have none, but you still take your time. Something in you doesn’t want this to end; To go back to your bunks, exhausted and alone, and wait until the next time the universe grants you both a respite.

Sighing, you can’t help but smile as you finally answer, “Go fish.”

Ghost draws from the deck, but you reach your hand out before it’s fully across the table. The touch is electric, and it causes Ghost’s eyes to flick up to meet yours. You realize just how brown they are. A deep brown, with hints of hazel. They stand out amongst the black of his mask— even more so when he’s got black paint smudged around his sockets out on the battlefield. You never really noticed it until now. Goosebumps rise on your arms, hidden beneath the sleeves of your sweater.

You were meant to say something, anything, but you can’t find the words.

Ghost finds them for you.

“You’re bored.” He says it like a statement, not a question.

You nod, slowly.

Ghost makes a humming noise of agreement and nods too. Then he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, his gaze idly watching your fingers slightly twitch. The air feels charged and heavy and tinged with uncertainty. You find it difficult to properly breathe, your chest tight and body tense; your mind a race of he’s touching me, he’s touching me and I can’t handle it, he’s touching me and I can’t remember the last time I felt this— have I ever felt this?— would it even matter?—

You haven’t a clue what’s going through Ghost’s head, but you can see that something is affecting him. His chest rises and falls faster, those broad shoulders taught with a newfound tension you hardly recognize. Preparing himself. Ghost isn’t like this unless he’s looking down the sights of his rifle. All poise and concentration, he tightens his grasp like he’s pulling a trigger and he’s dragging you out of nowhere, guiding your upper half across the short table under you’re leaned over and inches away from his face.

You say nothing. Hell, what could you say? Stop? Don’t?

You want this.

Fuck, you need this.

You use your free hand to tug his mask under his chin and you kiss him.

It’s firm yet hesitant, and your mind races with all the ways this could backfire. But Ghost is warm and his stubble is rough, scratching against your chin and lips as he leans into it, pressing into you as though he’s giving himself permission to allow this.

The kiss breaks when you run out of breath. You pant as you try to catch up, your eyes blinking open to find Ghost’s half-lidded gaze searching your face with a sense of desperation. Realization has set in: the floodgates have opened, and there’s no going back now.

You lead this time around, scooting yourself out of the shitty metal chair and rounding the table to him. Ghost stands, his eyes never leaving you once, and he’s tall and broad, towering over you, even as he bends his head down to meet your lips with a feverish kiss. You taste the coffee on his breath and the warmth from his tongue as it glides against yours clumsily. His hands grip your hips and suddenly you’re pulled upward like you weigh nothing and set down onto the tabletop with your legs spread. Ghost fits himself between your knees, his hands trailing down to grip your thighs, squeezing the flesh.

A rush of heat fills your body. You can feel a blush on your cheeks, heat prickling the back of your neck. The space between you and his chest is hot as well, practically radiating off of his body— the body that keeps you trapped against it with your legs locked and hands scrabbling at its shoulders; the body that’s firm and muscular and alive under your touch, reacting to each grind of your hips as you desperately rock against him.

“Fuck.” Ghost murmurs against your lips, low and breathy.

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes. You’re giddy with the feelings knotted inside your chest. This is happening. Holy shit. And you can’t come to terms with this, that’s it’s taken so long to happen. The tension wasn’t not there. Subtle glances and lingering looks were just the start, not to mention the jokes Soap, Gaz, and even Price made about you two— about how similar you were; quiet and brutal and deadly, two lone wolves watching their pack’s back.

Even so, Ghost has more resilience than this. You thought you had more— hell, if your self control was hanging by a thread during the last mission, then it’s practically been snapped now, and by your own two hands.

You’re tired of feeling tired. And Ghost is more than eager to quell the chaotic energy inside of you both.

His teeth catch your bottom lip as you tilt your head and grasp for the back of his neck. You flinch, the pain incredibly brief, and he makes a low groaning noise that sends a bolt of heat straight between your legs. Your thighs clench around him, and he soothes the nip with his tongue as an apology, but all it does is make you whine with need.

Lips tingling, you break the kiss to the sound of a zipper. Ghost bites his bottom lip and follows your eyes down to where your hips lay flush together. His boxers are exposed, belt flayed open, and he’s hard and he’s big too. Bigger than you anticipated— and you haven’t even properly seen it yet.

You slide a hand down his chest and palm the bulge with deft fingers. Ghost groans again, and it’s right then that you decide you want to hear more of that noise.

It takes some maneuvering, but your cargos find the floor in no time. The tabletop is cold against the backs of your thighs, but Ghost's hands are burning hot against your skin. His eyes remain between you, looking down at the (frankly embarrassing) pink panties you're wearing. There's a hint of amusement in Ghost's gaze, like he's tempted to make a comment on it, but instead he just presses his thumb to the front of the fabric and rubs, slow and precise.

For all of the training you've had— the long night's waiting hours in the cold for the perfect moment to strike; the torture that you stayed resilient through; the second-hand nature of your brain thinking logically over what you actually wanted— seemed to be all in vain in this one moment.

Whether it was a long time coming or not, you struggle to even stay still as Ghost’s thumb presses harder, seeking out the shaky breaths leaving your parted lips. It sinks even lower, to a forming wet patch on the thin fabric, and Ghost practically rumbles when he sees the evidence of your desperation.

He wastes no time in pulling the fabric to the side and adjusting your position, pulling your thighs up until you're resting on your lower back with your legs bent and bowed out. Ghost murmurs something that sounds like praise, but you're too caught up in the sound of your heartbeat thumping away in your ears.

First, it's just a finger that enters you. Ghost’s hand trembles so slightly you almost miss it, and he pumps the digit in and out a few times before eagerly adding another. You aren't quite prepared for it. The burn of a stretch would otherwise deter you, but now— now, all it does is drive you up the fucking wall.

“Ghost.” You whine, voice warbly.

Ghost curls his fingers and your head tips back, eyes squeezing shut.

“Simon—”

Now that causes Ghost to falter.

You open your eyes and glance down your body to see his reaction, afraid you might've crossed a line. If his eyes were any indicator, you have a feeling you just skirted the line. You also realize he shed his own cargos at some point and pulled down the hem of his briefs to his mid-thigh, exposing the long, hard curve of his cock. It reaches his navel, the tip wet and catching the dim sterile light of the room.

“Simon.” You repeat carefully.

Ghost pulls his fingers out, grabs under your hips, and drags you even closer to the edge of the table. You yelp, but it's no deterrent. He's feral in a way you've never seen— desperation and nerves and frustration all coiled into his determined expression, truly like a wild animal. It isn't often you get to see under the mask. What doesn't make sense is why he's letting you while he's vulnerable like this.

Your eyes meet as he lines up and rubs the tip against you, hot and slick.

And then he pushes in, and your eyes close once more as every feeling in your body narrows down to just this. This stretch, this heat— everything. The way Ghost’s chest vibrates as he groans, how he feels inside, thick and real; it's so much to handle, all you can do is lay back and try to catch your breath until he reaches the hilt.

Buried deep inside, Ghost grinds his hips and grunts when you whimper in response. His hands are gripping under your thighs, right below the bend of your knees, and he's using the contact as an anchor to drive himself in and out like he has no time to waste. And with how you've been treated lately, there really is no time to waste. God knows how late into the night it's gotten, but the thrill of what if—

And oh god. What if.

*What if someone comes in?*

The windows are foggy with condensation, the frames coated with dust and grime and who knows what; But you can see the beginnings of a washed yellow peeking through the thick trees outside, right past Ghost's shoulder. You catch a subtle reflection from the overhead light bouncing off the glass pane, transfixed by his rippling muscles as they bunch and strain while he practically pounds into you with all his might.

Arching your back, you dig your heels into his lower back and shudder when the angle changes, his cock brushing past the sensitive bundle of nerves buried inside of you. Ghost notices that you're distracted, but it's clear he doesn't know why. You can't tell if he's irritated by it or curious, but the worry doesn't stick around very long— he presses his thumb to your clit before you have the chance to regroup yourself, and that's all the stimulation it takes to stoke the fire burning in your gut. It's all you need to stop caring about the risk of you two getting caught. You both deserve this— surely, the team would understand.

You feel yourself pulse around Ghost's cock, an orgasm so treacherously close you can feel your thighs shaking with the force of its foundation.

They'd better understand.

You might die from this feeling. Forget the trenches, there's nothing that makes you shake, cry, and beg so easily.

“That's it,” Ghost grunts. The words, among the first he's spoken almost all night, prod at a part of your brain you thought was long shut down by now. And he keeps doing it, encouraging you with low, growly breaths and strained words; a mixture that makes your head spin— beyond the fact that you're nearly upside down with how high your back is arched, your temple nearly pressed to the tabletop.

Ghost bends over you to get a better hold, and then he's rapidly thrusting like a fucking rabbit, and oh God, you can feel it— it's too much, too quick and too overstimulating, but he doesn't stop, he doesn't slow down, and suddenly Ghost's hand is covering your mouth as you practically wail your release. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, all-encompassing and fueled by years of restraint.

Your pussy spasms around him, walls uncontrollably rippling, even fighting to push him back out. But Ghost only drives in deeper, and in one, two, three thrusts, he seats himself fully to the hilt and groans against the sweat-slick skin of your neck as a warm, dirty feeling floods your insides.

✩⋆---⭑✧⭑---⋆✩

It takes you a while to catch your breath. Ghost is right with you, propping himself up on his palms, hands on either side of your trembling body, as his cock pulses the last ropes of cum inside. He slowly pulls his hips back until there's a rush of hot liquid gushing out onto the tabletop.

Your thighs are a mess— hell, your whole body looks more run through than some of the exercise regimes you and the team are forced to do every couple of weeks. You definitely feel a lot sweatier, though the lack of mud, blood, and grime in general is a plus.

Your face burns with a sense of embarrassment as you look between your legs and notice the mess he left behind. Ghost's cock is still half-hard, but he carefully smears the tip along your inner thigh (and holy shit that imagery will never leave your mind from now on) and stuffs it back into his briefs, then zips up his jeans before adjusting the belt, each movement precise.

You half expect him to just leave you there, but Ghost's hands are gentle when they grab ahold of your arms and pull you up into a seated position. Knees bent, your legs hang off the table, feet a foot or so from the cold floor. Ghost says nothing as he quickly snags the blanket you dragged in from off the back of the couch and wraps it around your shoulders. He helps you shuffle side to side so you can adjust your panties until they're properly on again, and he even goes the full mile to help guide your feet into the pant legs of your cargos until they're on as well. Not like you can wear these again, considering how stained they'll be in the next few minutes.

“Feel better?”

It's the only thing you manage to come up with to break this weird, tense silence. Your voice is hoarse, but with a little more coffee, it'll repair itself in no time.

Ghost's eyes crinkle slightly, and something tells you that he's far more amused than the faux annoyed huff he gives to your little question. It eases the knot in your chest, and you can't help but smile as you help him adjust his face mask.

“Yes,” Ghost admits anyway, his fingers brushing yours gently, “Feelin’ better. Now come on, up you get. We've got some work to do.”

I'm so down bad chat. As soon as I finished writing this, I thought of a follow-up shower scene I might write next if y'all want it 🫣 Ao3 link is here! (I crosspost over there) Requests/prompts are currently: open! Thanks for reading :] And thank you Jax for the prompt!! ♡♡♡

[rosenclaws]

Hii congrats on 600 followers!!

I was wondering if i could get nr. 12 from the fluff prompts w Leopold?

“I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime.”

Much love 💜💜

a/n: Its been a while since I've wrote for Leo!!! I miss him sm. I hope you enjoy this little fluff piece <33. I'm so sorry this took forever but Im finally getting to these ahslfd

wc: 602

600 follower drabble masterlist

It's been years since Leopold found himself in modern day New York. An unbelievable story that sounded absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it. I mean, falling through a time rift? It was outlandish to even think of something like that. But somehow it happened.

He was Alice coming to wonderland, except this time it was all real. He was greatly unhappy back in his time. An Uncle who only cared for money and a looming loveless marriage. He wasn't exactly eager to get back. Kate and Charlie had helped him become acquainted with this world but it wasn't for another couple months that everything really clicked.

It was a random chance, he just happened to have wandered into the library, found himself in a random aisle, and bumped into you. Literally bumped. He was so engrossed in reading that he ran right into you. Making the stack of books in your hand go tumbling to the ground. He apologized profusely, bending down to help you clean when he looked up.

Call it cliché but when he met your eyes something changed. His heart leaped, seeing your adorable smile and kind eyes. You were incredibly kind, telling him that it was alright. He looked like a fool. Not being able to utter a single word as he was taken back by your beauty.

He spotted the name tag, you worked here. He introduced himself and took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he did so. You clamed up, at first he thought he had done something wrong as you squeaked out a thank you and practically ran away from him. He'd learn later that he had just flustered you until you couldn't think.

He kept going back and each time he'd find you there. Flirting with you until the day he finally asked you out. One date turned in to another which turned in to more and more.

In a blink of an eye Leopold life had been forever changed. Instead of the life his uncle wanted he's here. Married to the love of his life and working in a small antique shop. He loves it. He really does. Getting to tinker with oddities and finding homes for trinkets. Coming home to you every night. It was a dream.

"Leo? Are you alright?" He looks up from a book he had found at some shop, an old first edition. Though he really hadn't been reading anything. He must have spent too much time reminiscing. Your apartment was right above his shop so you must have been waiting for him.

"Apologies my darling, I was just thinking." He hums as you walk over and kiss him.

"What were you thinking about?" You ask as you brush his hair back, staring into the gorgeous eyes of your husband.

"It's just, I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime.” He confesses.

When his parents passed he believed he was doomed to a life that was governed by others. His own happiness was an afterthought. But then he found this time, he found you. Now everything is changed and he sees himself growing old with you. Every day is better than the last.

"You're such a romantic Leo." You say with a smile. He stands up and kisses you gently.

"It's late my love, go to bed I'll be there soon." He hums.

He steals one last kiss before shooing you off. He takes a look around his shop before turning off the light. Ready to spend another night with you in his arms.

He really is the luckiest man alive.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Oooooh, I love the wip ask game!! You know I'm a fiend for your Answer My Call fic, but... Danny is Vlark's Nephew is calling to me, that sounds like so much fun!

Look out tomorrow night (after 9 pm EST) for Answer My Call! Can you tell how much fun I'm having since this chapter takes place in Boston?

As for Danny is Clark's Nephew. I actually kinda forgot all about this one until I was looking through my "Prompt fills" document. And I followed the link I saved and what I wrote doesn't match it at all? So idk if I saved the wrong link or if I just took the barest bones and went in a totally new direction.

Here's the first 350ish words.

-----

Danny was practically vibrating as he followed Constantine through a random junk yard in Chicago and into a shed. He was going to meet the Justice League! And possibly join them! Totally worth the months he’d spent gathering every piece of John Constantine’s soul.

“All right, your highness. This is the Zeta Tube. They’re expectin’ us. After I make this introduction, we’re even, right? You’re not gonna demand anything else from me?”

“Nope! Your soul back for the chance to meet the Justice League with the potential of joining them. You’ve given them the files I sent you, right?”

“Course. Wouldn’t dream of reneging on a deal with the Ghost Prince.”

Danny laughed. “Sure you would.” Before Constantine could protest, Danny continued, “Now, how does this thing work?”

“You just stand right there. I’ll take care of it.”

Unfortunately, Constantine stood in a way that prevented him from seeing what he did. But then it didn’t matter because the room was filled with a strange energy that bombarded him. It tickled. Danny laughed even as the world spun away from him and reality shifted.

When everything came into focus around him again, he was facing a group of people. But his eyes focused on just one. Someone was talking, but Danny could only stare into equally shocked blue eyes.

“—om. Prince Phantom!” Constantine’s hiss finally got through the ringing in his ears.

Danny looked over at the wizard, but then he heard that clearing of the throat. He looked back at the group that had come to greet him. And there was Uncle Clark, dressed as Superman, standing with his arms crossed, foot tapping, and one eyebrow raised.

“I’m waiting for an explanation,” he said as soon as Danny met his eyes.

Danny opened his mouth. Closed it again. Swallowed. “Um…”

And then Constantine was talking again, thank the Ancients. “Superman, this is Prince Phantom, Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms, defeater of Pariah Dark, defender of—”

“Not you, Constantine.” Uncle Clark continued to stare straight at Danny. “I got a Christmas card from your parents just three months ago. I spoke to you on the phone last month on your sister’s birthday. You were alive then. Why do you suddenly not have a heartbeat.”

[bunnyswritings]

Proposal prompts?

okay yes!! i love these kinda requests hehe :") i wrote this in a fluffy romancey kinda genre, i hope you like them!!

Proposal ideas for your otp

Picnic proposals — stargazing through the night, hiding the ring in their personally curated picnic basket

Bringing the other on an evening stroll and leading them to a path which was pre-decorated by them with full-on fairy lights, candles, and flowers

Hot air balloon proposal — proposing when they are a thousand feet up in the sky, overlooking the sunset

Beach proposal — slowly writing 'will you marry me' on the sand and the other finally figuring out what they are doing

Nature park proposal — they bring the other on a hike up a nature trail (well, because it's their favourite thing to do). along the way, they planned for strangers to hand the other flowers until they reach the peak, where they propose

Planning an easter egg trail to some of the places that are of significance to them as a couple, and proposing at the final destination (bonus: they task the other person to go on this trail alone, leaving them clues at each destination for the next till they meet at the final location)

Writing the other an original song which perfectly sums up their journey together; serenading the other with a live rendition

Both parties secretly planning a surprise proposal for the other; they so happen to propose to the other at the exact same moment, and burst out laughing at their silliness in the end

Cable car proposal — proposing during a cable car ride overlooking the city lights (bonus: the one proposing has a profound fear of heights but goes through with it anyway — albeit with lots of nerves and cold sweat — because the other loves cable car rides)

A casual home proposal — where both prefer the privacy of home rather than being out in the public eye

^ but the proposal happens at a random domestic moment and in passing (eg. while doing the dishes together, folding laundry together)

Making a scrapbook for the other with each page being a mishmash of significant milestones — the good and the bad — and dropping the question at the very last page

Proposing to the other with paper rings not because they are't serious but just because seeing the other in this light — in the simple, the mundane, the routine — makes them surer than ever that this is the person they want to spend the rest of their life with

Taking the other to a surprise private movie screening, and instead of a movie, a homemade video with pictures and video messages of their relationship journey plays

i hope that these are helpful!! feel free to drop any other requests here!

[oftlunarialmoon]

75 Agere Journal Prompts MEGALIST

Ciao lovelies! The first time I wrote about Age Regression Journals was in 2018, a whole 4 years ago (that feels weird to say omg). So I thought, since I’ve had 4 years to compile it for myself, I would share my MEGALIST of 75 Age Regression Journal Prompts with you all!

For more info about Agere Journaling, see THIS POST from 2018.

For Nightsong’s article about Vent Journals, see THIS POST from 2019.

For 8 Journal Prompts, see THIS POST from 2019.

And finally, for 52 creative writing prompts/quaintrelle prompts, see THIS POST from 2019.

And now, let’s begin this list!

75 Agere Journal Prompts - MEGALIST

*PS* scroll to the bottom, for pictures of examples from my personal journal! 

Draw yourself a kawaii bento lunch!

Write down any chores for the day as a to-do list or sticker check off list

Design a smol outfit

Make a playlist for your littlespace

Draw portraits of your stuffies

Write your headcanons for your comfort characters as caregivers

Write down some animal facts from different parts of the world that interest you!

List items that are your favorite color

Make a magazine collage with a specific theme

List ideas you want to do in certain seasons

List your favorite agere nicknames

Write down any agere headcanons you have for fictional characters or OCs

List stuffie name ideas

List all your current stuffie names

List your favorite phone apps for littlespace

Make a tier list of your opinions on different types of candy

Draw what your favorite characters would look like as stuffies

Invent a new kidcore fashion trend

List 5 facts about your favorite sea animal

Design your Jolly Roger if you were a pirate

Draw yourself as a Pokemon Trainer

List how you deal with stress in agere methods

Write out any recipes you can make while regressed

List crafts you’d like to make

Make a page about your morning routine when regressed

Make a page about your night time routine when regressed

Write out any rules or guidelines you have when regressed

What’s on your Agere/Littlespace Movies list?

Write about what you would do on a visit to the beach

List any animes you like when small

List your favorite agere books

Dear Past Me - What would you tell your past self?

Dear Future Me - What would you tell your future self?

List songs that make you regress

List your regression triggers (positive or negative)

Write about how you would comfort a friend in need

Write about your dream vacation

Make your christmas/birthday/holiday gift wishlist

List your fave agere video games

List your favorite stims

Write a letter to your favorite fictional character

Write a letter to a friend or family member

Play I spy and write down the categories and things you find

Make a page of your top 5 agere songs from the last month

List free activities you can do when regressed

Make a collage page from a coloring sheet and stickers

Play scavenger hunt with stickers of your preferred theme

Use a page to write down word games like word scrambles and mad libs

Fill a page with positive messages for yourself to read later

Write down tarot interpretations if you do tarot reading while smol

List ideas for kandi bracelets you could make

Declare a random day a holiday of some kind, write down how you celebrate it

Use a page to “braindump” all of your current thoughts, even if it’s babbling

Make a sticker collage inspired by your caregiver

Make a sticker collage inspired by the seasons

Trace your hand onto the page and give yourself fun nail art, tattoos, or accessories

Draw a race track for a toy car, add obstacles or scenery with stickers

Write a social media profile page for a comfort character

Make a “top secret” file with your stuffie’s secrets >:)

Make a collage inspired by yourself

Dedicate a page to facts about one of your special interests

Write a poem for your pet (or fave stuffie!)

Draw a scene around a sticker of your favorite animal

Draw the inside of a house and use stickers to furnish and decorate it

Draw a scene to play with your toys in

Try a mindful reset page (List problems you’re facing, then list more positive mindset changes to each one)

Document the stories you play out with dolls or toys

Write down “this or that” prompts in one color then answer them in another color !

Use stickers to tell a story or make a fun comic

Fill a page with word art, using any words that make you feel smol

Make a list of all of your OCs

Use a page to document Minecraft coordinates of your favorite builds

Draw the outline of a purse or bag, and use stickers to show what a character of your choice would have in their bag, or-

Use stickers to show what you would put in your dream agere bag!

Draw a face on a page in marker or pen, and use makeup to decorate it! (or face paint :p)

Examples From My Journal:

[aparticularbandit]

So.

Last December, I tried to post fic daily - whether that was a one-shot or a chapter of something longer - because I understand that December can be a really rough time of year for people (including me), and I wanted to try and help ease that a little.

...given that most of those were written either the day/night before or day of, I'd like to get an earlier start this year.

SO.

I'm taking prompts! Now throughout December! For any of the fandoms I'm blatantly in and writing (Marvel (both MCU and comics (one I'm better at but. I can research)), Danganronpa (new this year!), Kathryn Hahn etc. (Mrs. Fletcher and Glass Onion (yes, I will take fam requests)), Jane the Virgin (Roisa primarily but I can be persuaded to write other ships), Who Framed Roger Rabbit (with the addendum that my Jess is...complicated)) AND OTHER FANDOMS - last year I wrote Everlark! and got into Marvel comics to write Viv Vision! among! other things!

So like - prompt away! Feel free to send in random stuff, because the worst I can do is say no, and that's basically the same as not asking me in the first place.

That said!

Please do not ask me to write Game of Thrones. I know nothing other than the first book, the first two episodes, and what I've seen on my dash. It would be wildly out of character.

Please also no Hazbin Hotel because that is a minefield of triggers waiting to happen.

Also I do not write smut or graphic sexual content. Those are the big nos.

BEYOND THAT. ASK AWAY. AND WE'LL SEE.

[magpiefngrl]

hey! curious new writer here. which fix of yours were the easiest to write and which were the hardest? in what way?

Hello anon! Thanks for an interesting ask.

OK I'll start with the disclaimer that every fic has its difficulties as well as moments when it flows, but there have definitely been some that poured out of me with great ease than others which were a constant struggle.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy, my first drarry, was written at the height of my obsession and it poured out of me. I wrote like a fiend all day and would go to bed at night and reread what I wrote. I breathed that fic day and night for the weeks it took me to write it. It was also the most fun I had writing, prob because I was a complete unknown and there were zero expectations from me. Similarly, The Full Monty, written just after TMODM, was an easy fic to write. I remember I read the prompt and was immediately assaulted by images and started laughing on my own and was like, OK I need to claim this, the fic is writing itself.

Similarly but in a more tortuous way, dirtynumbangelboy poured out of me too. More tortuous because it took me ages to find the right beginning, and by then I was behind with my deadlines and got stressed. Also, I wrote it in a sort of dread of the Erised fest, because it had some amazing writers that year and I was intimidated. I remember my goal was to "at least not embarrass myself" .

But, aside from the doubts and stress, dnab itself flowed like nothing else. There are passages that I really love, even now years later, and they are exactly as they came out the first time. I did very little editing (compared to other works).

With The Boy Who Died I made a fun post on tumblr about a mdzs AU of drarry and then the idea wouldn't let me go so I had to sit and write it. Luckily it was summer and I didn't work and I could spend my days writing it. There were moments I got stumped but it mostly came out easily.

Finally, a lot of my short fics poured out of me in one go and came out almost perfectly formed. The Dare, A Perfectly Normal Reaction, and my MCD The Death You Carry are good examples.

Fics that took ages at first:

so my thing is that I have to find the right opening to begin the story, otherwise I can't proceed. I don't plan; the first scene/chapter is my plan. And sometimes I get stuck for yonks. With The Unquiet Grave I began with a Draco POV, him being a politician and Harry his bodyguard, had an interesting first scene and then---nothing. It's like I hit a wall. Zero words come. When I have this feeling, I know I need to go back and revise. Long story short, it was when I changed the POV to Harry that somehow the whole gothic mood came about and I felt the auspicious click: I got it. That's what the story is. A gothic romance. After that, it was easier.

The same thing happened with Hush, darling. I rewrote a first scene fruitlessly several times until a random bit of inspiration fell into my hands: the visual of a card game. I began with it and I let it guide me and the whole plot/stakes/cast fell into place.

Fics that needed a LOT of work and had to be dragged into existence:

The Gift is the first that comes to mind. First couple of chapters were pretty easy and then I was stumped. Writing it felt like dragging myself up a slope, step by step and also not being happy with anything, so that was fun. :/

The other is 9 ½ Days, which took actual years to finish. In that case the middle part was the hard one. I wrote the beginning fairly easily and the last chapters, the plotty ones, also flowed. But the middle. Zeus almighty. It took me years and I thought and thought and thought about it a lot. Finishing this fic was an immense relief but also a source of pride, especially because I really liked the result, and judging by the comments I get, people seem to love it too.

Thanks for an unusual ask! It was good to ponder about my fics and my writing process. The same issues seem to crop up with my original works too, and it's helpful to remind myself that I got over those issues before and I can get over them again.

[elodiah]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Thanks @kcscribbler!

This was interesting, because I had to go with my gut feeling in the moment, but I reckon the contents of this list could easily change at any given time depending on my mood.

1) Revival

Summary: Loki and Mobius take what amounts to a vacation, whilst Loki recovers from his harrowing experience of babysitting the multiverse.

This began as a single-chapter ficlet to fill an ask game prompt. Later, I decided to revisit this version of Loki and Mobius to fill a bingo prompt in ch 2, then a random computer-generated prompt I had in my ideas doc for a 3rd and final chapter. Apart from a little Loki-whump in ch 2, it’s generally a sweet, soft and cozy pre-romance, and very cathartic to write.

2) Within

Summary: Loki and Mobius are marooned on a volcanic nightmare of a world, their survival depending solely on Loki's tenacity.

Part of my ‘Patience-verse’ series, this fic contains some of my favourite tropes, such as ‘trapped together in danger’, ‘magical drain/depletion’ and ‘the power of love’. Also a little twist of UST/URT — gummy bear feeding, my beloved! 😆

3) Sleepless

Summary: Mobius and Loki get stuck in a broken elevator for hours, and as a result Mobius discovers what's been bothering the object of his (as yet unspoken) affection.

Also a part of ‘Patience-verse’, and it’s such a trope-y scenario, you’ve gotta love it. I mean, that was the whole point of the original fic that spawned this series, after all. Basically, my reason for choosing this is not just because I’m absolutely feral for exhausted!Loki and sleepy cuddles, but also because I can’t believe I was able to write 3k+ words about Lokius in a lift. 🤷‍♀️

4) Apokruptein

Summary: A curiosity on an unknown world hurtles Loki and Mobius into peril.

A double bingo prompt-fill for ‘Forest’ and ‘Cursed object/artefact’. This 4-chapter fic is not really my best writing, but it’s the only time so far I’ve gone all-out with a full on adventure style fic, with a little worldbuilding/backstory, a lot of whump, and the lovely trope ‘temporary amnesia’ to boot. I worked really hard on the conception of this one, and I’m pretty proud of it.

5) I’ve lumped together two ficlets for my #5 spot, because they’re both similar in that they are absolutely NOT anything near what I would usually write.

a) Sit Tempus

Summary: Furnishing their new apartment, the last thing on Loki and Mobius’ list is a decent couch.

An idea that popped into my head during a boring drive home… and I wrote, edited and posted the whole thing in one night. 😏 My only ‘established relationship’ fic to date (watch this space.. 👀), although nothing remotely spicy, I should add. Just pure cute fluff, and a very vague S2 fix-it.

b) Unexpectedly You

Summary: A kindness from Loki for a mutual friend causes Mobius to have a ‘Moment’.

Terrible summary, but it’s another little ask game prompt fill, so nothing much happens in it at all. A lot of people seemed to like this one, which kinda made me like it more too. 🤣 It’s simply Loki being a sweetheart, and Mobius being proud of him. 🥹

I also wanted to add two honourable mentions for Reach (Loki/Star Wars crossover) and Reset (Loki/Red Dwarf crossover). I never in a million years thought I’d be capable of writing ONE passable crossover fic, let alone two… so the fact I managed it makes me super proud, even if they’re ludicrously niche.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Can I request geto suguru with prompt 29. After the last angst u wrote, I figured I want to be hurt more, maybe y/n confronts him again and tries to get him back (fails miserably) 😭😭 keep writing, ur writing is really good 👍

Thank you so much for that request, I just had to write that immediately! Hope I shatter your soul in a good way love, enjoy and let me know what you think ♡

Dying ray of sunshine Part ll

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: After searching for your former boyfriend Suguru for 10 years, he finally shows himself again at the Night Parade. You try your best to convince him back into your open arms, but it seems like the man you love is gone forever.

Warnings: hurt (obviously), injury, lanuage, death

It’s been a while since you last saw him. 10 years, 6 months and 9 days to be exact. Somehow you managed to carry on, found a job in the center of Tokyo, cut your hair a little shorter, met up with Satoru from time to time. You’re a grown woman now, absolutely stunning as some might say. On the surface, everything is going great for you. Expect for the fact that you never let a single man touch your soul after Suguru.

Sorry, just doesn’t work I guess.

You block the number of the random man you’ve met last night without balling an eye and straighten your posture. No one seems to mesmerize you like Suguru did. Along with Satoru, you searched for him over the last years, still eager to find him and talk everything out. You know that he has a tender heart, that even after all this time you will manage to get him back, your Suguru. The promise you made will come true. Sooner or later, you will track down the traces of horror he leaves behind. Deep down you know that he would never hurt or let alone kill you. Just a few words, that’s all you need.

The ringing of your phone disturbs your peace rudely. A look at the screen reveals that in fact Satoru is calling.

“You know I have to leave for work soon, don’t you?”

“(y/n), he was here”, Satoro breathes out.

Immediately you jump out of your chair, blood rushing through your ears as your heart nearly pounds out of your chest. You know exactly who he’s talking about. Suguru was at Jujutsu High? Why? Maybe he wanted to sort things out, maybe he had a conversation with Satoru, maybe…Maybe he asked about you.

“What did he say? Is he still with you? Why was he there? Were you able to convince him to come back to us? How is he? Does he look fine?”, you babble out, mind racing faster than your mouth can follow.

“(y/n)…I think you should pay me a visit. Don’t expect anything positive though…”

Your heart sinks immediately, a wave of disappointment and foreboding rushes over you just like ten years ago. Nothing positive means something really bad must have happened. But still, this is the first personal contact the two of you had with Suguru since he left that day. This has to be a good sign, right?   

“I’m coming right now”, you response hastily, put on your high heels and sprint down the halls with your car keys tinkling in your hand.

Jujutsu High isn’t far away from your home, but still the empty road feels like an eternity this day. You press your foot on the gas, don’t give a shit about the rain that starts to poor and the bad sight. He was there. Suguru was finally seen again, alive and speaking. You can’t help but shed a tear of joy while cruising down the street with enormous tempo. At some point you thought about giving him up, to stop searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found and who last told you that he wants to see you dead. But you never had the heart to call it quit, to simply throw all the time you’ve had together into the trash. This is your chance.

“Satoru!”, you cry out, dashing down the wet sidewalk into the center of Jujutsu High.

There he stands along with his students, all of them wearing thoughtful, anxious and competitive expressions. You are alarmed immediately. Satoru warned you, it is written on their faces that something pretty bad has happened.

“What’s going on?”, you breathlessly inquire, trembling hands pressed against your figure in order to stop you from shivering.

Your whole body seems to be electrified, still in absolute shock at this sudden opportunity.

“He was here. Suguru was here to announce war”, Satoru explains briefly, his gaze pinned to the grey sky above him.

“War?”

You can’t believe your ears. Is that the only reason he came here? To proclaim that he is going to take other innocent lives? You feel like fading, suddenly a breath-taking nausea overcomes you. This is not the Suguru you know, he’d never do that. Absolutely impossible.

“This has to be a misunderstanding, we both know that-“

“Sorry (y/n), it wasn’t. Apparently he doesn’t even stop at jujutsu sorcerers anymore…”

“B-But…This means he’ll come back, right? I will talk to him, I’m sure there’s a way to convince him to stop. After all, I was his girlfriend for so many years! I’m sure he’ll listen to me!”, you desperately try to convince Satoru.

“Ain’t no way I’ll take you to the battlefield. Forget that, (y/n). You’ll stay here, at Jujutsu High. I will talk to him first. Only when I can be sure that he won’t hurt you I will come and get you, understood? As a non-jujutsu sorcerer, you are completely at his mercy. I won’t lose you too.”

You can feel Satoru’s tense gaze eyeing you up and down while you urgently try to hold back tears. Of course he’s right, you know all too well that Suguru’s heart is clouded by grief and rage. He could kill you in a heartbeat before even recognizing that it’s you. But still, the thought of sitting here and waiting for Satoru’s call while your boyfriend is out there slaughters you from the inside. You waited 10 fucking years for this moment. How long do you have to wait until you can finally embrace him in your arms again, until you are reunited and get your well-deserved happy ending? It is so frustrating – hunting down the shell of the person you love most in this entire word and then not being able to talk this out.

“Did he ask about me?”

Your voice is a fade whisper, close to breaking like the finest glass. There is nothing you want more than to embrace him into your arms again, to feel his broad chest against your fingertips and let his delicious scent tingle your nose. Satoru’s heart breaks at the way you stare into the ground, the tears you try to hold back so badly glistering in your eyes. He can’t help but pull you into his arms, gently caressing your back just like he did on that fateful day that took your spark away.

“He asked me if you’re still around. I told him that you are searching for him”, Satoru whispers into your ear, making your heart shudder in hopefulness.

So he does care about you. After all the things that happened after the night ten years ago, you are still on his mind. Yes, this is a good sign. That means that he does in fact remember his feelings towards you, the beautiful moments you both shared.

“I will bring him back, Satoru.”

______________________________________________________________

“See ya, watch out for the little ones, (y/n)!”

“You’ll probably have to watch out for me, I’m no use when it comes to curses. Hopefully I’m not in your way”, you admit towards Maki and Yuta.

The boy in front of you smiles kindly at you while shaking his head.

“Oh please, don’t be so hard on yourself! You are a very impressive and strong woman, Gojo-sensei talks only positively about you!”

“I’m not able to see curses either, don’t let that stop or bring you down.”

A kind smile is plastered on your face, heart warmed by their kind words. It seems like Satoru is doing his job very well, apparently. You definitely need to tell him that when all of this is over.

“I’ll go back inside”, the girl named Maki announces, turns on her heels and leaves.

“Do you want to join?”, Yuta asks friendly towards you.

“Oh no, thank you. I will wait here.”

And with that, you are alone. Only you and the soft breeze that strokes your hair on this quiet cold day like every other. You can’t keep your mind still, everything revolves around Suguru and the prospect of seeing him. How will it go? Will he even recognize you? Your curves got a little rounder, jawline a little sharper and hair a little shorter. But your eyes. He should be able to tell that it’s you by your eyes. After all, he spent hours getting lost in their sight. Oh, the beautiful old days. Waking up next to him still sleeping, letting your needy hands wander around his muscular body, caress every inch of his delicate skin. Suguru is your blessing of a lifetime and he told you over and over that you are his ray of sunshine. Surely it’s not too late. It is never too late to change your path.

“Who do we have here?”, a voice behind you jeers.

You quickly get up on your feet, courageous gaze set in the direction of the unknown male.

But he isn’t unknown. You’d be able to recognize his long black hair and mesmerizing orbs anywhere. It’s him. God, Suguru is here. Still as breathtaking as ten years ago, face matured in the most delicate way. And that striking smile that is plastered on his face.

“Is that really you, Suguru?”

Ten years, ten whole years of your life you’ve been searching for him. Ten years without letting any man touch you in the way he did, ten years of constantly thinking about him and the unconditional love you hold for him deep within your heart. And now he’s finally here. Standing right in front of you, only about ten feet away.

His eyes examine you up and down. Can this really be true? He thought he’d never see you again. After all, he told you to run away this one time, he spared your life once. Suguru never expected to set is eyes on you alive.

“(y/n)”

His voice grew stronger and sounds a little deeper than you remembered. Oh, how badly you want to bury your face in his arms, beg him to come with you and forget about this madness. Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about what happened in a few years together.

“Over the past 10 years I searched you everywhere. Remember that promise that I made? I told you I’ll come back. And now we’re finally able to talk this out.”

Your voice is shaking. It feels like a far away dream to see him standing there, safe and sound right in front of your very own eyes. The horror of the last few years isn’t noticeable on his lovely face. You can’t help but close the distance between your bodies, every step feels like a victory. Yes, you can do this. You will convert him back to his normal self, to the sweet and loving Suguru everyone knows and loves.

“Wow, you actually managed to grow up even though you are nothing but a defenseless monkey. Congrats, (y/n).”

The sound of his stone cold voice and venomous words makes the world around you turn black. He called you a monkey again. Just like he did back then. You shake your head, determination plastered on your surface. No, you won’t give up so easily. This isn’t him.

“Suguru, this isn’t you. I know you better than that. You are the gentlest, most caring and loving soul I know, a man that would never hurt an innocent soul. You don’t have to do this. Please, let me help you out of this vicious circle, let me give you the attention you needed ten years ago. We can still fix this. I never stopped loving you.”

“But I did, (y/n). You are nothing but a stranger I share memories with for me. I forgot about you a long time ago”, he replies dryly, cold gaze staring right through your soul.

You swallow heavily when his words hit you like a bullet. It’s like you never knew him, disgust is plastered on his face. No…no, it can’t be! Your heartbeat picks up, hands balling into fist while your whole body hardens in agony. You didn’t threw your life away for him to stab you in the back like this. You didn’t love him for noting all these years. This just can’t be true. He just doesn’t want to let you too close, a coping mechanism to defend his current way.

“Kill me right now then, I dare you!”

Your blood-curling scream hangs heavy in the thick air between both of you, waiting for any reaction, any words, any twitches. Only to be greeted by a small grin and his eyes filled with so much hatred that it leaves you completely motionless.

“Your wish is my command.”

In the split of a second you are torn into the hard ground beneath, multiple bones in your body cracking at the invisible force that seems to burry you alive. Your lungs are out of air, all you can do is stare at the grey sky above, heart completely shattered by the love of your life all over again. Salty tears mix with your blood, plastering your sight in crimson.

“You’re just fucking hilarious, don’t you think? Mark my words before you die, you mean absolutely nothing to me. (y/n), you are nothing but an insignificant shadow and embarrassment of my past, a freaking monkey that has no place in this world, not worth my time. And that is exactly how you will die today. I won’t give you another chance to escape.”

His words seem to slowly fade away. Every time you woke up you reached for him, but he was never there. You want to tell yourself that there’s still hope, that there’s a small chance to convince him to return back into your open arms.

But it’s too late.

He will never be the Suguru that loved you so dearly ten years ago. He will never be the Suguru that held you in his arms all night, that told you over and over again how much he loves every inch of your body. He will never be the Suguru that came home to you after an exhausting mission with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a tired smile on his face. He will never be the Suguru you wanted so badly to bring back. No, this version of Suguru is dead. The man who’s bending over you right now with a satisfying grin decorating his features is a stranger, the shell of the man you used to know and love.

With a single tear escaping your eye, you steal one last glance of him and your past, present and future glistering in his emotionless orbs.

You failed him. And he will never be the same man again.

[stoneworldsimp]

episode 5

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: i wrote this late at night and in a one n done draft. apologies if i have some misspellings/other. based on episode 5 of the bear

the lights are out, and there’s nobody in sight when looking through the window. a frown paints your face; you could have sworn carm was working today, he would have said something if he managed to get a day off. you walked against the wind, around the corner of the restaurant to see if anything was happening in the back.

there was.

multiple tables were set up in a three-sided square, each one having different set ups; one for assembling, one for prepping, and one for selling. that’s where the line was, and a girl was behind it, collecting money from each person that came to the front. i’m..99% positive that’s sydney. based on how he describes her. everyone else who worked at the beef was there, too, focused on a different task. a massive makeshift grill was made behind the tables, and multiple foil containers where on different shelves. all of it kept the food warm, of course.

in the midst of your skimming the area, you got in line and realized carmy still wasn’t there. you didn’t think he died or anything, but it still worried you that he wasn’t inside or outside of the beef. it hit you too late that you had made the front of the line, and sydney’s voice broke you out of your trance.

“‘scuse me..?”

“oh! sorry,” you said, startled. red as a tomato. hesitant to ask your initial question, you ordered a random sandwich, the only sandwich, you remembered on the menu. “i was wondering, do you know where carmen is?”

the magic words prompted the soft rev of a car engine behind you. you looked back and saw it park next to the grill, and carmy got out of the driver’s seat. hair disheveled with a pissed off look; you haven’t seen him in this light too often. honestly, it was pretty hot. he was in his own world, walking between the grill and tables when he said hello to sydney and walked through the back entrance to the kitchen.

richie saw you, though; he and his shit eating grin sauntered on over to where you were, and before a word left your mouth, he spoke to you.

“here to see your little boyfriend, huh?” he changed direction and speed-walked to the back door, calling out, “carmy, there’s someone special here for you outside! don’t be fuckin’ rude!”

“what the..” your focus came back to sydney, and she already had your sandwich wrapped and ready. she didn’t wipe off her previous expression fast enough; you caught it at the last second.

“shit, sorry. uhm.. uh, how much do i owe you again?” you struggled in looking for your wallet as she told you the price, and her eyes were very openly searching your entire being when she thought you didn’t notice.

bickering made its way outside, getting louder once carmy and richie both came back outside. carmy still looked pretty pissed off, eyes wide and angry in the moment.

his demeanor changed when he looked past richie and the rest; locking eyes with him always felt like the first time. a slight tightness tugged at your chest once he smiled, and he jogged to you as you got out of line.

“hi! i hope it’s ok that i came, i finally got some free time and wanted to—“

a kiss was planted right on your lips when he got close enough, right in front of everyone; it was quick but felt with your entire mouth. a hand wrapped around your waist.

“you came on such a fucking eventful day,” he laughed as he pulled away, and you laughed with him.

pulling you in a hug, your sandwich smushed between yours and his stomach. “thank you for coming,” he whispered in your ear, chin resting on your shoulder.

“of course,” you replied. you were the one to pull away this time, feeling his strong arms move around you again. he smelled like food, and although it sounds off-putting, you actually really liked it. weirdly enough, you enjoyed guessing what he made when he used to come home from his previous job, as much as he hated it.

with a loving gaze into his eyes, it hit you; they were watching you. not just sydney, but the entire kitchen, they were watching, listening while they kept taking orders. how the hell can they do that? a bashful feeling consumed you in a second, and with your head down you mumbled, “i wanted maybe one more kiss, i just didn’t feel the one this morning.”

“it was 3am and you were dead asleep, i didn’t want to fully wake you up on your day off,” carmy said. he put his hands on either side of your face, wordlessly asking you to look at him. “i guess it worked out nicely for us, anyway.” he gave you another kiss, the moment ending as richie started yelling once more to someone else. carmy broke the kiss and sighed. “i have to get back to work, but i’ll see you tonight, ok?”

you nodded. “see you at the house.” your hands slid across his arms to his hands, lightly removing them from your face. you brought them down and gave a gentle squeeze to one before letting go. “love you.”

carmy walked away, smiling one last time before turning his body back around. one look at his employees and you knew you were toast; you quickly spun on your heel back in the way you came and left. you suppressed an embarrassed laugh as you heard richie mimic carmy, “‘i have to work, but i’ll see you later, right?’ who the fuck are you, you fuckin’ sap? there should be no PDA allowed, cousin, this is a place where people eat…”

once you were finally home, sandwich a little cold from the chill in the air, you unwrapped an end and took a bite.

it was still delicious.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Rayla's relationship with all four of her parents after their de-coining is... rough, to say the least. They're not her family; Callum and Ezran and Soren are. And so she wants the Crownguard to walk her down the aisle.

(I wrote this at 1am last night/this morning when I should have been grinding out an accumulative project that's due today but... fanfic's gonna fanfic)

Rayla found Soren in the armory much too early. If he wasn't by Ezran’s side, he was either in the kitchens or the training grounds. Rayla was glad she'd gotten it right the first try.

He was fastening his armor on himself when she let the door swing shut, squinting against the early rays of dawn seeping through the window.

“Rayla, hey,” he greeted, securing the clasps and picking up his sword. “What's up? Want me to kick your ass?”

She grinned as she shook her head. She usually ended up beating him, but Soren's dumbass-ness always made Rayla forget just how ingenious he really was. “No. I, um… I…” She had no clue how to continue the request, how to ask him.

“Wedding planning stress?” Soren guessed, and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

He grimaced. “Sorry. It'll be worth it, though.”

“Yeah.” She just had to hold out for the big day, the day she'd get to marry Callum and be done with all this shit.

Soren leaned against a table. “So, why are you here?”

Rayla took a deep breath. She just had to spit it out. Still, she couldn't meet his eyes.

“I don't want any of my parents to walk me down the aisle,” she confessed, fidgeting her fingers.

Soren tilted his head. “Why?”

Rayla shrugged and perched on the table he leaned against, picking at the hilt of a random sword left there. “They didn't love me the way you guys taught me to. I think… I think I don't need them in my life the way I need you all.” The words were heavy and hard, but they were true. She hadn’t known she’d needed to say them, hadn’t known that they were the odd ball that had been curled up in her stomach and was now finally uncoiling. “And I want the people really close to me, who mean the world to me to be involved. So…” She ducked her head, hoping the Crownguard would pick up on what she left unspoken.

Of course, though, he didn’t, irritatingly yet sweetly prompting, “So…?”

Rayls sighed and decided to jump the horse and do it. “Soren, I want you to walk me down the aisle, you dumbass.”

Read more on ao3!

[ssaemilyhotchner]

These are so wonderful !! For the letters, M, please? Congrats on 1.1k!!

thanks for your kind words, anon! hope you enjoy <3

OTHER 1K DRABBLES | Read on AO3 Join the celebration by requesting a letter!

letter: M | prompt: morning sickness | wc: 0.4k cw: pregnancy, vomiting a/n: dug into the archives for this one! I first wrote a version of this in 2011, and it was heavily informed by a multichapter I wrote about girldad!Hotch, “daddy’s little girl.” dlg was a 100k word, year-long labor of love for me, so I love being able to resurrect even a tiny bit of it here.

Please do not repost (reblogs welcome) or otherwise claim as your own.

--

Reaching sleepily for the woman he had previously been spooning, Hotch let out a low groan. “G'morning, sweetheart,” he rumbled, craning his neck for a kiss.

But he was met with cold sheets and no Emily.

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Hotch was propping himself up on his elbows and forcing his eyes open to search the bedroom when he heard it: pained groans coming from the ensuite bathroom. He was upright and out of bed in seconds, stumbling to her side and holding her hair back as she expelled her stomach contents in the sink.

"Hey," Hotch murmured softly, rubbing random patterns on her back. "You alright?"

Emily nodded, managing a quick "m'fine" before wincing and emptying her stomach even further.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" He grimaced as she made a heart-wrenching sound and threw up some more. "Water, maybe?"

"Can you wet one of the…hand towels in the kitchen…with cold water?" she asked between dry heaves and desperate breaths.

"Of course. I’ll be right back.”

"Okay," she mumbled, but he was already out of the room.

Hotch returned in record time, a glass of cold water in one hand and the moist towel in his other. Placing the latter on Emily's neck, he plaited her hair into a loose braid to keep it out of her face as she rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. Finally, she straightened to her full height and turned to look at him, a grateful and apologetic expression on her face.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked, offering her a tentative smile.

"Just barely. Last night's dinner," she explained, cocking her head towards the sink. "I could do without experiencing white rice on the way up ever again. I feel disgusting."

"Do you need more water?"

"No, I'll be okay." Emily returned his small smile. "Thanks, honey." Noting that his gaze was scanning the tile floor, she said, "At least I didn't make a mess like last time. Still couldn't make it all the way to the toilet, though." She gave it an appraising glance. "I don't think I can even get that close to the ground anymore."

Coming up behind Emily and wrapping his arms around her waist, Hotch lovingly caressed her pregnant belly. "Silly baby, are you giving Mommy a hard time?" he crooned.

They both smiled as their daughter answered with a kick. "She sure is getting a pair of legs on her," Emily noted, her tone somewhere between exasperated and proud. "I'm going to be black and blue by the time these nine months are over." She patted her belly softly. "How can someone as precious as you be so mean at the same time?”

Baby girl Hotchner simply kicked Emily’s ribs once more.