#tango: writing process

[d1xonss]

could you possibly write a small drabble of how daryl would react to reader telling him she’s pregnant? i can’t stop thinking about dad daryl, please fuel my addiction🙌

Little Miracle

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 1.7k

AN ~ Um, hi I love dad!Daryl so of course I just had to write this. Slowly but surely getting these requests done lovelies, thank you all for the kindness and patience.

Hope you enjoy! xoxox

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The second hand on the clock was going round and round in circles enough to drive you crazy. How is it that the minutes could pass so slowly when all you anticipated was for it to go faster? Like somehow in this little room, time seemed to freeze when the world outside kept going as usual, as if nothing was wrong. But the reality of it all was reminded to you by the anxiety you felt building up in your chest, and the sinking sensation in your stomach, awaiting what the test results would read.

You hadn’t been living in Alexandria long, hardly long at all if you really let yourself think about it. You were still getting used to the feel of being safe behind big metal walls and living in an actual house with food and electricity. Things you thought you’d never have again. Not only that, but you were still trying to navigate this blossoming relationship with Daryl. Despite having only been together a few months, the two of you had grown very close over time. Bonded in a way that couldn’t quite be formulated into words. He just knew you. And you knew him better than anyone else in your life. But this particular situation, however, was something you couldn’t guarantee a positive reaction to.

You were late. Ten days late if you counted correctly. And though you had been late in the past because of low iron or stress, this was very different. You could feel that it was different.

And as it turns out, you were right. It seemed as though everything grew still as you stared down at the positive pregnancy test. Spending nearly an hour in that bathroom and still not being able to process it fully. How on earth could you process something like this when your life could potentially change forever?

You didn’t think Daryl would be angry, after all, it takes two to tango. And you had been doing…a lot of that ever since arriving at the safe haven. But you also had a dreadful feeling that he wouldn’t exactly be thrilled either. Carl and Judith aside, the man hadn’t exactly been the biggest fan of kids or starting a family as a whole. Knowing of his past with his abusive father and the early death of his mother, you couldn’t blame him in the slightest. The trauma he had to endure was utterly horrible.

Only now that you knew you were pregnant, the topic of discussion was kind of unavoidable now.

Late that night, you laid in bed with the covers bundled up to your chin and your gaze staring mindlessly out the window in front of you. Lost, unknown, worried, it was all painted on your expression. Which is why you purposefully turned your back to the door, not wanting Daryl to come in and immediately notice something was wrong. You weren’t ready to tell him, not yet. Not when you were still panicking about the suddenness, the last thing you needed right now was to deal with his reaction on top of everything else.

Potentially having an abortion didn’t feel right, but actually having the baby didn’t exactly feel right either. Motherhood wasn’t really in the cards for you, but then again a part of you already felt attached. You felt utterly torn.

Just then you heard the bedroom door open with a soft squeak, signaling his arrival home and causing your train of thought to abruptly stop. Your eyes fluttered closed to pretend as if you were already fast asleep, though in reality you didn’t think you’d get a wink even if you tried. His shuffled footsteps sounded closer and closer against the shag carpet, briefly hearing him shrug off his shirt and unbuckle his belt to remove his pants as he typically would do before bed. The mattress dipped down a bit under his weight when he climbed into bed beside you with a small grunt, moving slowly as if he was trying his best not to wake you.

His familiar frame was soon pressed against your back to wrap his large arms around your waist, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck to breathe you in. It was comforting to him, being able to take in your warmth and your sweet scent was probably his favorite part of the day. Though when he suddenly splayed one of his hands across your lower stomach, you instinctively shifted away from him.

He blinked. Confused. “Didn’t know you were up.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” you nodded slightly, attempting to brush it off, “Just…trying to fall asleep.” 

You heard a soft rumble from him in response before he scooted close to you again, his hand tracing patterns along your hip before again settling on your stomach to pull you closer. A huff escaped you before moving away from him again, trying to silently apply that you clearly needed space. But Daryl was only left feeling a little hurt by your distant behavior, when usually all you wanted was for him to cuddle you.

“Hey, woah, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly, “Why ya runnin away?”

“I’m not running away, I’m just trying to sleep. I don’t need you touching me all the time.” you mumbled.

His eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion, slowly shifting to prop himself up on one of his elbows to look down at you. And upon seeing your brow creased thoughtfully and a frown tugging at your lips, clearly there was more happening than you led on. “Bullshit.”

“Daryl, just drop it.” you snapped, suddenly sitting up to swing your legs off the bed and stand up to get even further from him. 

Your hand came up to run stressfully through your hair as you exhaled a heavy sigh, before hugging your arms around yourself almost defensively. You hadn’t meant to come off so bitter, but you were overwhelmed and fairly irritable, the last thing you wanted right now was to be coddled. But as soon as you saw his slightly wounded expression, you couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of guilt. For keeping this secret and for also putting that look on his face.

However, as always, he remained incredibly patient. He tilted his head at you before sitting up properly, “Sweetheart, come on. Tell me what’s the matter.”

Something about the way he pleaded with you, the way his eyes softened, caused you to just blurt out what had been circling your mind all day. “I’m pregnant…okay?”

Daryl’s body went completely rigid at your confession, his eyes widening further if that were possible, and you could’ve sworn his face turned a little pale. Clearly he was a bit shaken from the news, but once you opened your mouth, you couldn’t seem to shut it again.

“I’m freaking out,” you said bluntly, “I just found out this morning, and I’m still freaking out. I don’t know what to do- I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid, let alone trying to raise one in the apocalypse. But hey, shit happens, and…I think I’m going to keep it.” 

He continued to stare at you, unblinking.

“I know this might be a deal breaker and I can understand that. You can be involved, or not involved at all, but at the end of the day it’s my choice. And I don’t want you to try and convince me it’s a bad idea or I shouldn’t go through with it, because…because I actually want this.” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

Swallowing thickly, you couldn't help but fidget with your hands as you continued to ramble, “I didn’t know how badly I wanted it until I had it. And I’m scared, but…it’s a good kind of scared, you know? Like…an anticipation kind of scared. But I know I needed to tell you eventually, so I did. There it is.”

Daryl sat and listened to your entire rant. Not trying to interrupt, or protest with what you were saying, he just…sat there. A thick fog of silence passed over the room as he clearly took more than a moment to try and process your words, but in the end it was plain and simple. You were pregnant, having the baby, and somehow worried about where he would fit into all this. But in his eyes, it wasn’t even up for discussion. He had always been right where he wanted to be; next to you.

Eventually, he stood from the bed, coming to stand in front of you and mentally you braced yourself for the worst. But he didn’t speak, he didn’t yell, he just…pulled you in for a hug. A choked sob escaped your lips when you felt warm embrace wrap around you protectively, not even knowing how badly you needed him until now. Your arms quickly came up to wrap around his shoulders and clung onto his frame, leading to him gently picking you up from off the ground to just hold you for a while. Neither of you said a word as you quietly cried into the side of his neck, feeling his hands gently rubbing your back in response, trying to soothe your worries in any way he could.

The truth was he wasn’t ready to be a dad, he wasn’t at all prepared to raise a kid in a world so unforgiving and cruel. But he’d be damned if he let you take this on alone. It would be scary and unpredictable at times, but as long as he had you by his side, he knew everything would turn out just fine.

“I ain’t goin nowhere,” he muttered close to your ear, squeezing you a little tighter to put more emphasis behind his promise.

Little did you know how much his words would reign true.

Daryl stuck close by your side for the whole nine months, the longest nine months of your life. He always made sure you weren’t overexerting yourself, had enough food and water throughout the day, and overall doted on you constantly. Not that it was much different from how he usually treated you, although now he was even more overprotective if that were even possible. Sure, he had his doubts, his worries from time to time on whether or not he would truly make a good enough father for your little miracle. But in the end, he always seemed to step up when it mattered, pushing all those negative thoughts aside when you reassured him of just how ready he was.

And watching him with your child was like falling in love all over again. Seeing how gentle and soft he became with this new little life in his arms was something precious, something you wished you could hold onto forever. But you had to remind yourself that this was just the beginning. And if the two of you could handle this…what’s the harm in having a few more?

~ Thanks for reading!

[kikiiswashere]

Four to Tango

As promised, part two of Waltzing for Three!!!

Thank you for helping me reach 200 followers for this little ol' blog of mine 🥰 And welcome to all the newcomers!

The idea for this ficlet was born of watching my bestie @sand-sea-and-fable help out a pregnant friend by lifting her belly off her hips, and it just sort of spiraled from there.

It's also worth noting that I myself am not a mother, nor have I given birth, nor do I wish to be a mom (husband got the ol' snip-snip). So why this fic? Good question 😅

That being said, I did my best to write about the labor process relatively accurately without getting into the super nitty-gritty of it 😂 So, please enjoy this weird little fever-dream of a fic, and please comment and reblog 💗

Tags for the interested parties: @luhmoon, @legendaryflowercheesecake, @thebeserkvernid, @miffysoo

Pairing: Established Silco x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Teen/Mature (brief reference to oral sex)

CW: Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy and labor

Insistent cramping had woken you up in the wee-hours one morning, swelling and ebbing in a slow rhythm that sent your heart tapping, a loop of nerves coiling around your gut – little room that there was for it.

Silco had been a terribly light sleeper ever since Vander’s betrayal, ever since those early years on an under-tested Shimmer variant that left his brain unable to fully settle. So, the moment you shifted into a sitting position, he shot up as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Words got gummed up on fear and excitement in your mouth. There was a slight tremor in your fingers as they grazed over your belly. You had noticed it sitting even lower on your hips these past several days. While you were very done with being pregnant, you were still nervous and surprised to say –

“I think it’s time.”

With comical amounts of speed, but awe-inspiring grace, Silco flung himself from the bed, divesting himself of his eyepatch and pajamas. After changing into a simple set of trousers and an old button-up shirt, he fetched the stopwatch Jinx had invented to easily time your contractions, and wrote a tube prompting your midwife that she was needed. It had been decided early on that the babe’s delivery – barring any complications – would happen at The Last Drop. You, nor Silco, were willing to venture outside to a clinic when your family would be at its most vulnerable.

Too nervous to lay down, much less fall back asleep, you began pacing the large bedroom in your large sleep shirt. Every time a contraction locked up and spasmed through your lower belly and back, your fingers pressed the stopwatch’s clicker. And you breathed as the midwife had instructed. Silco kept you company, walking with you up and down the length of the bedroom, holding your hand and becoming an anchor to squeeze when contractions rolled through. Together, you both noted and kept track of their intervals. Their spacing  and length suggested that the little one’s arrival was not imminent, but the consistency indicated that this was indeed labor.

The midwife arrived, ushered in by a half-asleep Sevika. You’d bribed her with an absurd bonus and several pre-paid sessions at Babette’s for her to crash in one of the Drop’s private guest rooms during these last days of your pregnancy. She was needed for security, and to stand-in for Silco when his attention and priorities would be elsewhere.

“Good luck,” she’d grumbled, barely glancing at you before shutting the bedroom door, and trudging back down the hall.

The midwife was a petite, wizened Vastaya who’d been selected for her services not only because of her field prowess, but because she was staunch loyalist to you and Silco. Shimmer had helped save more than one of her clients when the birthing process had begun to go sideways, and that was enough for her to hitch her wagon to your agenda.

She was also direct to the point of rudeness – a personality trait that was wholly welcome given the slippery, hidden, self-serving rhetoric you were used to having to deal with.

“Time?” she asked, setting her medical bag down on your dresser with a heavy thunk.

“Forty-five seconds to a minute, about every seven minutes,” you answered. Then gasped and doubled over as another contraction bent you.

The midwife hummed. “How long?”

“About an hour,” Silco said. He squeezed back at your hand as you rode out the current wave rolling through.

Clucking her tongue, the midwife shook her head, long ears slapping lightly against her horns.

“Early.”

Silco frowned. “You are being more than thoroughly compensated to show up whenever we ask.”

“Indeed. To the bed, miss. Let’s have a look.”

Once your legs were freed from the lock of the contraction, you shuffled to the bed. Silco helped you into position, and the midwife closed in. Her fingers were warm, but the tools were cold. The combination, along with your nerves, caused your lungs to shudder.

“Five,” she declared, drawing her head from between your thighs.

“That’s halfway,” you chuckled weakly. Silco brushed his thumb over your knuckles

The midwife hummed in agreement. “True. But as discussed, this process is not linear. And being your first delivery, it is very likely this will take a while. How is the pain?”

“Fine. Manageable.” It came out as a grit, but she didn’t seem to doubt you.

“You should eat and drink while you can. Is there anything else you want or need right now?”

Together, you and Silco walked to the small kitchen in your private quarters. You rested your forearms on the counter as the length of your spine hammocked behind you, hips gently swishing side-to-side. Silco kept the breakfast blissfully simple: toast with a light slather of butter, and a mug of warmed water with lemon.

Eating was slow going. Between the jitters and contractions, your appetite was seriously curbed. When you finally made it to the second piece of toast, Jinx shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. Her bedraggled demeanor did not last long though, as her whip-quick senses tuned into the energy of the space. Big, blue eyes tracked between Silco – unusually underdressed – and your strange posture. One could nearly hear the cogs in her head clicking and whirring.

“Is it time?!”

In a flash, she clambered onto the stool next to you, bright and tittering. Her exuberance washed over you in a relieving breeze. Reaching over, you ran a hand through her unkempt hair.

“Sure is, kiddo.”

“When will he be here?”

“Could be a while yet, Jinx,” Silco answered. He set a glass of juice in front of her. “What would you like? Toad-in-the-hole? Porridge? Pancakes?”

“Make ‘em have a face!” she crowed.

A hook of a smile pulled at Silco’s mouth as he turned back toward the stove.

Jinx settled onto the stool; legs kicking merrily beneath her as she sipped her juice.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like intense menstrual cramps.”

Her small face squished in a ponder. While you had had that conversation with her, Jinx had yet to broach into that aspect of puberty. Thus, she had no point of reference.

“Kinda like when you roof-run after eating, and your abs cramp up,” you offered. “Kind of.”

A contraction swelled upon you, and you grit your teeth, face pinching, head dropping. Silco stepped away from the stovetop, and placed a grounding hand between your shoulder blades. Jinx watched, eyes wide and worried. Timidly, she shifted toward you, pressing her forehead to your shoulder.

The pain continued, but was temporarily numbed by the overwhelming love and gratitude for the two people on either side of you.

Your family.

It was never part of the plan when it came to your Silco’s ideas to lift Zaun up, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And in a few hours, three would be four. Your heart beat big, tapping against your throat as the contraction passed. You clicked the stopwatch.

“That seems worse than roof-run cramps,” Jinx said suspiciously.

You chuffed. “Like I said: Kind of.”

Silco rubbed his hand up and down your spine a few times, before kissing your temple and returning to the stove.

“You remember what we talked about?” you asked Jinx.

She fiddled with her hair, nodding. “I can come and go as I please.”

“Right. If you want to be with us, I want you to be there. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. You get to decide, and it doesn’t have to be right now.”

Jinx nodded again, eyes staring into the middle-distance. Reaching over, you brushed your fingers through her hair again. Her eyes snapped back to yours.

“Are you scared?”

You gave her a reassuring smile.

“No. I’m happy.”

It wasn’t a lie. But a few hours later, your happiness was thoroughly overshadowed by the pain of labor. It was staggering how it had intensified. How it was becoming near non-stop as the space between contractions shortened and shortened. Gravity felt impossible to contend with on top of everything else, so you sank onto your bedroom floor with a low, guttural growl.

Silco had been attentive throughout, anticipating your needs before you even voiced them. Ever your anchor, your source for steadiness. Even now, on your hands and knees, his own wide palms settled onto your hips and pressed in. It pulled an appreciative groan from your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my love.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Your eyes flicked to the bathroom door where Jinx was helping the midwife prepare a warm bath. You were proud of your girl. Admittedly, part of you doubted she would choose to stick around once labor became loud and more intense. When you could no longer keep yourself from crying out, hesitancy had flickered in her eyes, and her brows pitched in concern. But instead of dashing away, she’d reached for your hand and held tight.

“Is there anything you can give her?” she’d asked the midwife incredulously.

The female had smirked, impressed and moved by the girl’s protectiveness of you.

“I have mild pain relievers, but nothing that will fully numb – “

“Shimmer?”

The midwife’s black lips thinned. “That is only to be used in emergencies,” she explained. “It is too potent and powerful to be used for anything other than the most extreme circumstances. Which – “her eyes looked up at your haggard form on the bed – “does not seem probable. Her labor is progressing as it should. There is nothing to worry about.”

Jinx frowned, doubtful, and hunkered closer to your side.

“Seems like a dumb design that it hurts so much.”

“Agreed,” you wheezed.

“Come,” the midwife said, “let’s check you.”

She declared you’d progressed to eight centimeters. That had been three hours ago. And the pain just continued to climb and build.

A small sob burst through your teeth. Silco knelt at your side, quietly saying your name.

“I’m scared, Sil,” you admitted in a whisper. You were thankful Jinx wasn’t near to hear you back-pedal. Your breath hitched and words tumbled out: “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He took your warm and tear-streaked face between his hands, and repeated your name.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, your tired and wet eyes focused on his face. He looked at you with fierce earnestness, thumbs sweeping across the apples of your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, part of you grieved that the baby would never know Silco without his scars. Or yours. Outside and in.

Silco called your name again.

“Look at me,” he repeated. Your eyes slid back to his. Blue and red pinned you in place. “You can do this. I’ve not met anyone more tenacious, nor strong, nor as spirited as you. Those are but a few of the reasons I fell in love with you so long ago.” His eyes softened now; his adoration made plain. “You’ve absolutely no reason to doubt yourself.”

A small hiccup bubbled from your mouth, and you pressed your face into the warmth of his palm, breathing him in deeply. Not having properly dressed for the day, he hadn’t put any cologne on. The natural terra-sweet scent of his skin filled your nose. You were grateful for his support, respect, and belief in your abilities. A sudden, silly thought flitted across your mind.

“Not my dance moves?”

A single amused breath huffed from his throat. That infinitesimal smirk – one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with him – appeared on his lips. His blue eye flashed; as it often did when an idea struck him. Silco lifted to his feet, and used a strong grip to pull you to yours. He guided your arms to loop around his shoulders and neck, while his went to your low back. A weary chuckle left you as you understood. Your cheek was a relieved, heavy weight against his shoulder. It had to be a strange sight, this dance configuration: with your body slouched against his, massive belly hanging between you two. Slowly, your feet began gently shifting side-to-side.

“Admittedly,” he murmured against your crown, “your dance moves leave something to be desired right now.”

You laughed, even as another contraction swelled within you. Silco’s hands firmed up on your body, holding you upright as it moved through your body.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you hissed as most of the pain subsided. It was such now that there was no longer any real relief.

“A dance and a suck job? Lucky me.”

Your fingers pinched Silco’s upper back, and you felt the tremor of silent laughter in his shoulders.

“Tub’s ready!” Jinx sang as she flounced out of the bathroom.

Managing to smile at her, despite another great, contracting swell that threatened to bring you to your knees, you took her hand. Silco kept a strong arm wrapped around your middle, and you followed Jinx into the humid warmth of the bathroom.

The water helped. Its heat soothed your pained muscles and aching bones. The irony was not lost on you that you found peace in it. After a few minutes of settling into the tub, you gave Silco a look that to anyone else may have seemed like nothing. But he caught the message in your eyes, and tucked himself close to the tub’s edge, taking your hand. Jinx huddled herself into his lap, nervously fingering the buttons on his shirt.

About an hour later, the midwife’s large ears flicked in your direction as the quality of your breath shifted, as the sounds leaving you turned deeper and more animal. Her deft hands slipped into the water and between your legs.

“Something changed,” you gasped, hunching slightly. “It feels like – “

“It’s time,” she said, pulling her hands from the water. Somehow, she’d also stripped your underwear off in the same movement without you noticing. “It’s time to push.”

Push. The word settled into your body with a deep, innate knowing.

Yes. That’s what you were feeling. The near uncontrollable need to bare down. An old, predetermined instinct washed over you. You could do this.

But you did not want to do it alone.

“Sil.”

The grit of his name and the way you shifted yourself forward spurred your partner into understanding. Swiftly, he stood, deposited Jinx onto the stool he’d vacated, and then stepped into the tub, sliding in behind you. Settling against his chest, your hand ferociously intertwined with his. His heart beat firmly against your back.

“You can do this,” he whispered into your ear.

“Give me your other hand, dear,” the midwife said. You did so and she guided it under the water, preparing you to feel and catch. “Push.”

“Push! Push!” Jinx cried, her little fists pumping and bopping in the air madly.

Gritting your teeth, you did just that. A sound you didn’t know you were capable of making burst from your lungs. When the air ran out, you slumped against Silco’s chest.

“Breath in,” the midwife demanded. You did so. “Push!”

You did again, a roar ripping from your chest. A roar that ended in a surprised yip as something into your hand.

“Again,” the midwife demanded.

And you complied, baring down with everything you had. With all the might and tenacity and power your body could exert. Another battle cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, and a solid weight slid into your hand. You ripped your other hand from Silco’s grip, and pulled a wriggling newborn from the water.

“It’s a boy!” Jinx yelled, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Her brother’s face squidged, and his pink mouth opened in an announcing wail. You joined in and pulled the babe to your chest. Silco went very still behind you, scarcely breathing. Then his hands appeared over yours, cradling the baby at your chest. Like on the night you’d taken in Jinx, he pulled his legs up around you both and held tight.

Later, once the placenta had passed (something Jinx was equally horrified and enthralled by) you were helped out of the tub, and cleaned. The midwife tied off the babe’s umbilical cord, and once some time passed, you watched with an incredibly full heart as Silco severed it.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen the expression on your partner’s face. A soft, careful, wonderous thing. Then it hit you all at once. You were watching Silco fall in love. The notion took your breath away and fresh tears welled in your eyes. Jinx clung to you, and you to her.

“Thank you for being with me, Jinx. It helped.”

The girl beamed up at you, holding on tighter.

“I think it is your turn for a shower, sir,” the midwife said, twisting off the umbilical nub.

Silco watched her hands like a hawk as she did. He slid in once she finished, and wrapped him in a blanket Jinx had decorated. It was a small thing, but you caught the tremor in his hands. Keeping Jinx tucked against your side, you came to stand next to him.

“He’ll be here when you get out of the shower,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Yeah! Go get the baby juice off you!” Jinx ordered.

Silco’s expression of awe turned to one of bemusement as he glanced at your daughter.

“Yes. I suppose I should.”

Your own hands shook a bit as you gathered your son – your son! You wondered if the shock would wear off – and ushered Jinx to follow the midwife out of the bathroom.

With no small amount of effort, your body, beyond sore and exhausted, climbed into bed. The baby cooed and nuzzled and fussed against your chest as you settled into the pillows and duvet. Jinx climbed in on the opposite side, and snuggled close.

“He’s already sleeping!”

“It’s hard work being born. Don’t you remember?” you chuckled.

Jinx laughed, “No!”

A small smile curled the midwife’s mouth as she snapped her bag shut. She turned to you and bowed her head.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you said, eyes on your boy. Then you lifted them to hers, and said again, “And thank you.”

She nodded again, horns catching the light in the room.

“It was my honor.”

She gave you and the baby one last cursory check over, and took her leave.

A few moments after she left, there was a knock on the door, and Sevika stuck her head in.

“Ogre!” Jinx cried. “I gotta brother!”

Even Sevika’s presence couldn’t dampen Jinx’s mood.

Silco’s lieutenant grunted, and stepped over to the bed. She stayed at a distance though, craning her neck to peer down at you and the baby.

“Yep. That’s a baby. Congrats.”

“Thank you, Sevika.”

Behind her, Silco emerged from the foggy bathroom in a fresh pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sevika tilted her strong chin in his direction and he nodded back.

“I’ll leave you all to it then,” she said.

Her poncho twirled as she spun back to leave. As she and Silco crossed paths, a metal finger tip whipped out from beneath the red fabric, and poked his bare belly. He jolted and shuddered. He sneered at her, but she just snickered and slipped out of the room.

Silco shook his head, damp hair beginning to curl at the ends. He rounded the bed, and climbed in, sandwiching Jinx between your bodies. He leaned over the girl’s head and kissed you.

“What’re we gonna name him?” Jinx pipped.

You and Silco exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted.

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” he added.

Immediately, Jinx began rattling off all her suggestions.

Before a name could be decided, you fell asleep. Jinx followed shortly after; her plump cheek pressed against your shoulder. Gingerly, Silco lifted the baby from your arms, and brought him to his bare chest. The boy tensed, and then melted, a small wispy sigh leaving him.

Silco melted, too; a foreign, near indescribable softness filling him up. He brought his hand to the boy’s back, its length and width nearly covering all of him. His son was so small.

His son. His son.

Emotions gripped him so intensely he nearly choked.

Elation, love, fear.

Grief.

There was grief that his child was born technically as a citizen of Piltover. But that anguish was small compared to the other one that had been tucked away in the scar tissue of Silco’s heart ever since you had told him of the pregnancy. A pain that he hated he harbored.

The secret grief was that Vander wasn’t here to see this. The grief that his Brother had ruined any chance of participating in this milestone. The grief of Vander’s death (justified though it was) was scratched open as Silco’s son lay on his heart. The grief that, had things gone differently, Silco would’ve named the boy after his Brother.

“Sil.”

Silco’s head whipped around at the sound of your voice. Your beautiful, exhausted, beautiful face shone up at him. There was a smile on your lips that he wished to taste, so he leaned over Jinx’s head again and pressed his mouth to yours. 

“I told you you could do it,” he whispered leaning back. You smiled and nodded wearily.

The baby grunted and shifted against Silco’s chest, and he pet the back of his head so, so softly. It broke your heart into a million pieces, and then they jumped right back together. Your eyes slid back up to your partner’s profile.

You felt his grief, because it was yours, too.

“I know, Silco,” you whispered. He looked over to you. Jinx snored softly between. “I wish it had been different, too.”

Silco’s eyebrow dropped, and his lips softened. He glanced down at the baby on his chest, and chuckled ruefully.

“I truly don’t know what to name him.”

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. You sat in silence for a while, listening to your children breath. Jinx’s raspy breaths and the baby’s snuffling. It was music to your ears. You would never tire of hearing it.

Just as you were about to doze again, you felt Silco’s energy shift. Eyes sharpening onto him, you watched as he first gently ran his fingers over Jinx’s freckled cheek. Then, so carefully, he lifted the baby from his chest so he could look at his small face.

“You and your sister will have better than we did,” he promised. “Me and your mother will give you a nation.”

Your son’s eyes fluttered open and closed, the bud of his mouth stretching into what looked like a small smile. Your throat tightened horribly, and you tucked your nose into Jinx’s crown.

When you were sure you could speak without choking, you lifted your head and said, “We promise.”

I hope part two scratched the itch <3 If you enjoy my work and would like to support me (firstly, THANK YOU!) check out my Ko-Fi page!

ko-fi.com/kiki13

[captain-huggy-bear]

Kesselring and telling him you’re pregnant

TW: Issues with conceiving/fertility issues Requests are open for specific people only, please see my pinned post for details :) Writing Masterlist

Two little pink lines.

It's interesting, how two tiny lines can change everything, how they can be so important. You've been waiting for months to see those two lines...trying and failing time and time again to get pregnant. The trying was fun, sure, but there were only so many times you could get a negative test result before it started to get to you and started to feel like there was something wrong.

It was getting to the point of frustrating. Michael was disappointed each time, God, he wanted to be a dad really bad, but you? God, you felt like your heart was being ripped out, like something was wrong with you. You were starting to feel like you were broken...but the doctors just told you to be patient, it could take time. It didn't help when you saw people around you seemingly able to get pregnant with ease, it felt like you were the problem.

Michael was good about it, always reassuring you that it was fine, it was natural for it to take time, that it wasn't your fault. It takes two to tango or to make a baby as he often said and just because you weren't getting pregnant didn't mean it was you that had the issues, it could have been him, it could just have been that time was required.

So you're a little shocked when you finally see those two lines...your instant reaction is to tell Michael except he's not around. He wasn't going to be back from his roadie for another day or two and this didn't feel like the sort of thing you were supposed to tell your husband over the phone.

So you do the responsible thing. You go to the doctors and get another pregnancy test done, final confirmation that you are in fact pregnant, 6 weeks to be exact. You hold that information in and try to act normal in your evening calls with Michael even though you're desperate to tell him.

You want to do something cute to tell him, a jersey with Daddy across the back or something, but there's no time. Not between work and Michael being at the end of his roadie. So you plan instead to just tell him, a buzz of excitement and nerves filling you because God, you've both been waiting for this for so long.

When he walks through the door after the roadie you try to greet him like normal; a kiss to the cheek, a big hug, a breathing in of his cologne, taking in the fact he's back and he's here. But, Michael's always been good at reading you. He notices right away that something is off.

"What's wrong? You look like something is wrong? Did something happen while I was gone?" He's already looking around the house behind you, seeing what's out of place, what's gone wrong. Big palms on your shoulders, reassuring, protective like he thinks there's a burglar in the house.

"Nothing is wrong...far from it." You wrap your arms around his waist, chin resting in the centre of his chest to look at him, a small smile starting, excited. Excited because you can't wait for his reaction. Excited because this is everything you've both been waiting for for months now.

"Oookay?" His worry fades to a smile, a little confused, but still a smile, brown eyes staring, waiting for you to tell him more, to stop being so cryptic.

"I'm pregnant."

Michael blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. Like his brain has short circuited a little bit, brain stopping to process the fact you've just told him the words he's been waiting to hear for months.

"A-are...are you serious?" Lips parting, licking his bottom lip, breathing coming out slow and shallow like he doesn't quite believe you yet.

"I'm pregnant, Michael." You start to smile as you watch the way that Michael starts to process it, starts to realise what you're actually saying.

"You're pregnant."

"I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant!" It's like it suddenly catches up to him, like his brain finishes processing because you're suddenly encapsulated in his arms, pulled tight against him as he picks you up for a moment, off your feet and spins you. It makes you feel slightly nauseous but you can't help but laugh, smacking his shoulder to put you down.

When you're back on solid ground Michael is leaning down towards you, forehead pressing against yours, nose nuzzling your own, the biggest, goofiest grin on his face.

"I'm going to be dad..."

"Yeah." You're grinning now, he's grinning too. Two goofy idiots just smiling at each other like you've won the lottery, like you'd had all your prayers answered because well, you have.

"You're gonna be a mom."

"Yeah."

"Fuck..." It's like he's still just processing and you don't mind. Don't mind the quiet, don't mind the silent way he stares at you, all the love in the world in his eyes because you get it. You totally get it. It's almost too good to be true but oh, is it good.

[wandasaura]

WHAT DID I SAY

summary — the four times you fucked up and called your doms by the wrong name

warning(s) — college au, fuck-buddy relationships, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, face slapping, spitting, biting, body writing, restraints, spreader bars, mentions of branding, semi nipple torture, hickies, shotgunning, choking, butt plugs, spanking, ass biting, pussy slapping, doggy style, strap-on usage, cum-filled strap, fingering, oral, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mommy kink, captain kink, sir kink, literal filth, men/minors dni

authors note — first little headcanon/oneshot for know my place! hope you enjoy my little college stoners who fuck like rabbits. can totally be read seperate from the au!

know my place

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Maria – 

The wine is warm beside Maria’s bed. The bottle of Prosecco momentarily forgotten about as a symphony engages beneath the darkness of night and blankets. It’s not often that Maria pulls the blankets overtop of herself as she works to unravel the intricate knots and coils in your belly, but she’s chosen tonight to share the beauty of your body with only herself and the silicone toy secured around her hips. Your moans are muffled by her skin, teeth embedded into her shoulder as she rocks the strap-on into you harshly, the bulbous head dancing along your cervix with every third stroke. She’s practiced in this tango, an expert in knowing your body, but the wine has impacted your reception to her actions, and as she pulls the strap out of you almost completely only to thrust back into you quick and harsh, a name leaves your lips that isn’t her own. 

Maria has never been soft with you in moments of time where some part of her body is buried within yours. She’s rough, and assertive, and entirely domineering as she splits you open and gives you only as much pleasure as she’s willing. With Maria, you’re never in charge. The cards are held tightly in her ironclad grasp and you’ve learned better than to try and guess that she’s holding. The wine however, has severely impacted your judgment. You’ve engaged in this dance for months now; been left with the bruises and aches of her touch for days afterward, and yet you’re disoriented enough to cry out for Wanda as she drills your sopping cunt so perfectly. 

“Mommy!” The title slips off your lips before you can search for the correct term that’s filed away in a section of your brain labeled ‘Masha’. Maria has never been Mommy, in fact, she’s always turned her nose up at the title and joked that Wanda’s entirely too harsh to be called something so maternal, and she’s less than amused when the five letter name falls onto her shoulders as she works to unravel you completely. 

Her hips stutter to a stationary position, the silicone dildo fastened around her hips deep within your pleasure soaked core, but unmoving and unwilling to start again. There’s a moment of silence that passes between the both of you; Maria’s eyes are hard, slitted and dark as she stares down at you in a drunken haze, brain struggling to process what you’ve just let slip. Your eyes are wide, light and soft as you meet her stare and attempt to win her forgiveness without seeing the repercussions of your actions. You were a fool to call her Mommy, but you were an idiot to think she’d let it go so simply. 

The silence that had fallen over you ended abruptly, replaced by the echoing sound of a sharp slap meeting your cheek and bouncing through the air before you’d had a chance to process the pain at all. Your head snapped to the side, your unharmed cheek pressing against her pillowcases that smell somewhat of smoke and vanilla. Your eyes pinch closed, anticipating the next hit that will land against your heated skin, but it never comes. Maria’s hand tangled into your hair instead, pulling your head back until your neck is craned and the expanse of your sensitive skin is exposed enough for her teeth and tongue to mark. 

“What’s my fucking name?” Her hips snap into yours with each word that she mutters against your neck, sharp bites and sensitive stings encasing your body in a delectable buzz of pleasure and possessiveness. You’ll bear these marks for days to come, indentations of her teeth and patches of purple from her lips adorning your skin that can’t be easily hidden with makeup or your longest turtleneck. Everyone who looks at you will know that you’d found yourself beneath a warm body and had been helpless to their assault, but only you’ll know that it was Maria Hill who had been your intimate attacker. Each lovebite that she presses into your skin is a subtle claim. You’re not Wanda’s in this moment, you’re not Natasha or Carol’s either, you’re entirely Maria’s and she’s reminding you of such as her hips drive hard against your own and the silicone strap that’s coated in your arousal attempts to bruise your cervix in the most addictively painful way. Each strong thrust sends you reeling farther into bliss, but she’s waiting for an answer and you’re not getting anything more until she hears you call her the right name. In her opinion, she’s being entirely lenient with you, there are a plethora of ways she can go about reminding you who you belong to, and yet your wrists remain unbound and your breasts remain unmarked by the leather of her favorite flogger that’s just an arms distance away. “Whats my fucking name, slut? Or do I need to carve it into you? How pretty would you be with my name on your thigh; ruined for anyone else who even tries to get between these legs? My little slut forever.” 

A strangled moan falls into the air as Maria sinks her teeth into the skin of your neck just beneath your ear, and your hands that have remained at your sides throughout this entire exchange shoot up to scratch at her back, blood bubbling to the surface as you spare to ounce of lightness to your touch. She’s marked you, now she’ll bear your marks for days to come. “S-Sir!” 

Maria hums, satisfied with your answer, but unwilling to forgive you completely. Her hips continue to pound into you until she reaches her high, thighs quivering as she moans in pure delight until she’s too sensitive to continue on with her ministrations. The strap-on leaves your entrance quickly, your overstimulated and sensitive walls pleading for it to stay, but Maria’s done for the night, and she’s decided that you are too. She reaches for the abandoned glass of wine, taking a sip smugly as she straddles your hips, damp toy splayed across your naked belly as your chest heaves and you look up at her pleadingly. 

“You’ll get to cum when I don’t have to remind you who I am.”

Natasha –

Natasha’s hips continue to rock into you even as she leans forward and captures your lips between hers. The room is filled with a thin layer of smoke, the scents of weed and sex entangling together and yet it's somehow entirely Natasha as you lay beneath her, willing to take whatever she wants to give you. Your head is fuzzy, filled with only thoughts of her and the lightness that the bud had brought over your senses. Her body is warm as her naked chest presses against yours, already marked by her passionate kisses and bites that will linger for days to come in secret. Her pupils are blown wide, a combination of her lust and the joint she’s rolled skillfully. Her fingers are educated in the art of many things, but unraveling you is one of her most prized hobbies. Her lungs are filled with smoke from the last drag she’s taken, and as the seconds linger on with her lips still pressed firmly to yours, unmoving but eager to claim you intimately, she exhales into your open mouth and forces you to take the smoke that she fills it with. It burns as you inhale, slipping down your throat smoothly and filling your own lungs, but it’s pleasant and you greedily allow her to continue until all that remains is an empty kiss that was once filled with weed. The smoke trails out in wispy strands of white and gray, and they dance between your faces until the open space claims it and the visual is gone. 

When she pulls away, there’s a devilish smirk on her lips that even another drag can’t erase entirely. She raises the joint to her lips again, eyes fluttering closed as she sits back on her heels, the cum-filled strap she borrows from Carol still buried within your walls and yet agonizingly still as she lets her head fall back in contentment. The cloud of milky white smoke that settles around her is entirely erotic, almost a halo of intoxication above her head, but there’s hardly a second for you to admire how ethereal she looks in this state before she presses into you firmly and resumes her rocking. Her pace is punishing albeit shallow, the tip of the strap-on hitting your perfect spot so softly it feels like butterfly sings batting against your skin, but she’s ruthless with her speed and the quick motions of her hips are enough to have you gripping at the sheets and looping your legs around her waist to draw her in deeper. 

Natasha laughs smugly at the sight of you so fried and desperate. She raises the joint to your lips with one hand, encouraging you to take a hit before her other hand wraps loosely around your neck. She doesn’t apply any pressure as you take a long drag, eyes fluttering closed as you involuntarily shiver at the taste lingering on your tongue, but the presence of her grip is enough to have your hips bucking into hers. 

“F-fuck sir!” You cry out when she obliges with your silent request and begins to thrust deeper into your core, the head of the toy pounding right against your sensitive spot with practiced ease as your head falls back against the pillows and your lips release the joint. A cough falls off your lips as you moan around the smoke in your lungs, eyes becoming watery from the burning sting, but you have no time to recover from the hit before Natasha’s hand is tightening around your neck and her hips are setting into you faster and harder. 

Her lips purse as she collects spit on the tip of her tongue, letting it fall against your flush cheek before she smears it down your neck, fingers that are still holding the lit join trailing across the expanse of your sensitive and worked over skin. She’s playing with fire now, quite literally, smearing her spit across your chest until she finds a home at your pebbled nipple and pinches roughly, but you have no ounce of self-preservation in your body as you watch the lit joint fall closer and closer to the marked skin of your chest as she tightened her grip on your neck and leans cynically close to your face. Her eyes are dark, clouded with lust and intoxication. Her hips have set a punishing pace and each time she drives the head of the strap into your g-spot your vision goes white with pleasure. 

“That’s not my fucking name. Are you really that much of a slut that you’re thinking about Masha as I’m fucking you. We can get Masha if you’d like, I’m sure she’d love to watch as I fuck you into my mattress until the only words you know how to say are Daddy please. I’m sure she’d love to lay between these legs and watch my cum spill out of you before I push it right back in and plug you up. Fucking whore. Is Daddy fucking you too good? Is that little brain so overwhelmed with pleasure that you don’t even know who’s fucking you?” Natasha lightens her grip on your nipple, bringing the joint back up to her lips before she drops it into the ashtray on her bedside table and grips the dildo, throwing her head back as her thrusts become choppy. “I bet you’d let anyone fuck this cunt. All you want is to cum. Fuck!” She curses as she drops her body against yours, lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss as she squeezes the shaft tightly, cum spurting against your walls and marking them with a milky whiteness. “Cum with me. Fuck!” 

With her permission, the coil in your belly finally snaps, and you arch into her touch as she rides out her own orgasm, the cum slipping down your legs and coating your inner thighs and her sheets. “Fuck Daddy!” 

“Good girl. Scream my name. Let Masha hear how good I’m making you feel.” 

Wanda – 

When Wanda invited you over to fuck, you’d anticipated something quick. What you hadn’t expected, was for her to bind your wrists to her headboard and force your legs apart with her recently purchased spreader bar. You’d been at her mercy for hours now, writhing on the bed beneath her as she took her time working you up. First it had been her fingers that dared to ruin you, the ringed digits slipping between your folds and teasing your clit and entrance until you were dripping onto the bed sheets and pleading with her to give you something more. She’d agreed easily, not even putting up a fight to prove her dominance over you. Those skilled fingers had turned into a skilled tongue. The hot muscle pressed against your clit, lapped at your entrance and slurped up the damp arousal that glistened beneath the moonlight that bled into the room from the open window. She was relentless in her teasing, and as overstimulated as you were beneath her touch, you were equally as frustrated. She’d been at it for hours, bringing you just close enough to taste the sweet relief of your orgasm before she pulled away and began the process all over again. You’d cursed her out six times since she started, and each time she merely chuckled against your core and slapped her palm down harshly against your cunt, sure to let her fingers brush against your clit for merely a second before it was gone and her tongue soothed the ache but brought nothing more. 

Your hands itched to tangle into her hair, and yet each time you reached for her you remembered how she’d so intricately bound you to the headboard with the softest rope in her collection. Your hips bucked upward as she pulled away again, your entrance clenching around nothing as your clit throbbed and protested. A broken cry fell off your lips as you shook your head frantically, needing her back on you and relieving the intense ache that she had single handedly created. Her lips and chin glistened with your arousal as she smirked down at you, the vibrating egg between her legs working her up to an orgasm you could only beg for. 

A whine rippled through your chest before it tumbled into the room, the words you’d been chanting for hours mangled and wrong as they came spiraling out fast and strung together. “Captain! P-Please!” Wanda growled lowly at the slip, her eyes dark and sinister as she leaned forward to grab your jaw and force your eyes on her. 

“What did you call me?” Despite how she articulated every syllable in the sentence, she wasn’t really looking for you to respond to her. In a swift motion, she’d reached across the bed to grab the panties that she’d pulled from your legs when you’d first joined her in the bedroom, and shoved them into your mouth. The balled up fabric was damp and uncomfortable as it sat on your tongue, but despite how hard you strained to force them away from your mouth, you couldn’t get them out with your arms bound and her body restricting your movements. 

Your eyes tracked her movements as she fumbled around in the drawers of her bedside table, thighs straddling your waist as she leaned forward and subsequently rocked the vibrating egg farther into her tight channel. She trembled in pleasure, but everything about her was always so perfectly kept that it was hardly noticeable to anyone who wasn’t you. Her rustling had lasted mere seconds before a black marker that had been used weeks prior to mark up a project poster now in her grip and uncapped. You had no idea what she planned to do with it, but there wasn’t any way for you to ask if you wanted to. You were helpless to watch as she slid down your body and dragged the inky tip across the skin of your breasts before moving downward. 

You gasped when the cold tip of the marker dragged across the skin right above your mound, thick black letters that you had to strain your neck to read lingering on your skin only to be gone when you washed your body of her touch later that night. ‘Mommy’s Slut’, was written just above your cunt, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied in stopping there. She dragged the felt tip across the inside of your thigh, holding your legs still as they wiggled away from the ticklish sensations she provoked. A thick arrow pointed straight at your weeping entrance, and Wanda was cruel enough to write, ‘cum slut’ at the tip of the arrow. A cry fell off your lips when she threw the marker onto the floor, and returned to her position between your legs. Her mouth was cruel as it worked you up to the edge, but unlike the times prior, she hadn’t stopped when you’d begun to wriggle around as an indication of your approaching orgasm. You fell over the cliffside in bliss, but that had only lasted long enough for your orgasm to crash over you and then she was gone, forcing you to ride it out with no further stimulation. 

A harsh slap met your sensitive cunt when you finally stilled on her bed, teary eyed and desperate for something more as you stared up at her with wide pleading eyes. Wanda wasn’t willing to comply however, and instead of satisfying you fully, she trailed harsh bites up your torso and between the valley of your breasts before her lips, still glistening with your arousal, found a home against yours. The dainty pink panties with a frail little bow on the waistband still between your teeth and properly wet from your saliva, but she hadn’t trailed so close to your face to kiss you. Instead, she settled her harsh glare on you, a sinister smile curling the edges of her lips upward as she let a damp finger stroke across your cheekbones, “I guess Mommy has to remind you of who you belong to. We’ll see if you deserve to cum in a few days.” 

Carol –

The buttplug is an added sensation that Carol uses to her advantage as she works to unravel you completely before you both have to leave for class. You’re not new to butt plugs, Maria’s quite the fan of them, but you’re new to them with Carol and the ways that she likes to toy with your stimulated body. You're on all fours in the center of her bed, knees sinking into the mattress as your hands grasp and twist at the comforter, absolutely desperate for relief that’s been slowly building beneath the surface. Her fingers are buried deep into your core, curling into your g-spot and massaging your velvet walls with pride. Her tongue circles the plug in your ass teasingly, and every couple of minutes when you least expect it, she presses against the base of the plug in tandem with her harsher thrusts before she scissors you open. 

Carol smirks against your ass as she sinks her teeth into your left cheek, her hand slapping down on you right just as she flicks her thumb over your clit. A muffled moan falls off of your lips as you bury your face into the comforter, your hips rocking back on their own accord as you attempt to chase after her touch, a strangled cry of, “Daddy more!”, vibrating your cheek as you twist your head to rest your cheek against the comforter and stare back at her. 

Carol is relatively unbothered by your slip of her title, but she doesn’t let it go entirely, not that you’re aware yet. Her fingers work into you easily, her thumb rubbing harsher, tighter circles around your clit until you're spasming on the bed. She smirks against the globe of your ass, her thumb pressing firmly against the plug with the hand that’s not buried between your thighs. “That’s not my name Princess and you know that.” Carol says smugly, grinding her hips down onto the edge of the bed as she chases her own relief, knowing there’s not enough time in the ten minutes she has left with you to reverse your position and have you go down on her. 

“Captain!” You cry out sharply, reaching your hand back to grasp onto Carol’s as the coil builds in your belly almost unbearably. The engineering major merely smirks, digging her teeth into your ass a final time before she encourages you to spill around her fingers. That’s all it takes for you to cave and tremble as she continues to scissor you open and curl her fingers into your cunt, but as quickly as your orgasm comes, she’s pulling away and throwing your clothes at your head. “You’re really going to go to class like that?” You question her, laying dazing on her bed as you twist onto your back and watch her run a baby wipe between her legs before she’s wiggling into a pair of fresh panties and reaching for her pants. 

“Yes, and so are you. Get up. That plug doesn’t come out until I take it out.” She says in the most unphased tone, reaching for the crewneck that’s been laying across her desk chair for days, not even bothering to reach for the bra that’s only inches away. 

“W-What?” Your eyes go wide as you sit up in bed, wincing slightly at the pressure in your ass as the plug presses against the inner parts of you sweetly, ropes of pleasure shooting through your core. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you, Princess?” Carol merely winks before she’s flying out of the room, shouting that you have three minutes to meet her in the car before she leaves without you and makes you walk to class.

[shaytheantagonist]

My Roman Empire is how the life series writes itself. Here are some coincidences that I think about frequently:

1. Every person who has ever won a life series (Real Life included) was paired with another winner in Double Life (Grian & Scar, Scott & Pearl, Martyn & Cleo)

2. Several members had patterns in their deaths in Secret Life (All of Grian’s deaths happened while a large portion of the remaining server members were present, all of Scott’s deaths were arranged & he let whoever killed him kill him, all of Etho’s deaths were from Scar killing him, all of Jimmy’s deaths were from mobs of increasing strength (drowned, dragon & warden), all of Mumbo’s deaths were because of poor walking (walked off a ledge, walked into lava, walked into his own fence posts) & all of Martyn’s deaths happened in different dimensions)

3. Jimmy being out first 4 times in a row

4. Grian winning 3rd Life & then being dead last in the VR recreation of 3rd Life

5. Mumbo always having his final death moments after Jimmy’s final death

6. Pearl & Scar winning their seasons after being the underdog the entire season & having it the hardest

7. The first interaction Etho & Joel had in the entire life series was while they were in boats

8. Every time Scott is in the final two, whoever loses dies to a mob they didn’t know was behind them (Ren in Last Life, Scott in Real Life)

9. Jimmy always cursing at least one of his allies to do horribly each season (3rd Life was Scott’s lowest placement ever, 10th. Last Life: both Mumbo & Impulse were in the bottom 4. Double Life: Tango played poorly and was responsible for 2/3 of their deaths. Limited Life, Joel was out third & The Bad Boys died A LOT. Secret Life: Martyn was the first yellow AND the first red despite literally winning the previous season. EVEN REAL LIFE, Jimmy teamed with Grian, Joel, Scar & Impulse, who were the first 4 to be eliminated.)

10. Since Double Life, Pearl has wanted her allies to win the current seasons, she has outlived all of her main allies every season since then (Big B in Limited Life & Mumbo, BDubs & Joel in Secret Life)

11. Joel literally & metaphorically being the reason Lizzie was the first one out instead of Jimmy in Secret Life (Lizzie only died because she was trying to kill Scott to help out with Joel’s assassin task, by the time she tried to kill him & died in the process, Joel had already failed his task & just hadn’t told her yet, so if he had told her that he had failed, she wouldn’t have taken Scott to the end & fallen into the void & Jimmy probably would’ve first out again. Also when they were hosting an early funeral for Jimmy, Joel opened the grave & told Jimmy to “Rise”, I think this was Joel unknowingly breaking the curse.)

12. The fact that Gem’s final death is always her coming 3rd & dying in a 2v1 situation.

13. Joel’s first death in Last Life was fall damage, his first death in Secret Life was also fall damage. The reason Joel ended up on red life in Last Life was because of the Boogeyman curse (both times), in Secret Life, he because red because of being killed by a Boogeyman. In Last Life Joel’s final death was at the hands of Scott, causing him to place 5th, in Secret Life, Joel’s final death was being killed by Scott, causing him to place 5th. I’m leaving out one of Joel’s Last Life deaths, specifically when he died to Mumbo in self defence, but that’s mostly cuz there are more deaths in Last Life than Secret Life

This isn’t even all of them, there are so many more!

[iwassupremacy]

You asked for it: Aemond Targaryen from HOTD fucking you on the beach, the only thing between you and the city being Vhagar, and Aemond having an implied dragon kink. (As in, doing the tango either on a dragon, or within sight of a dragon, or while riding a dragon.)

Absolutely LOVED the idea!!! I really really hope the wait was worth it lol… I really enjoyed writing this!

You never imagined it to be this…exciting.

You were laying on your back on the sand and it quite literally got everywhere. But you couldn’t care less with Aemond being on top of you, his cock stretching you deliciously.

“My love~ hah” you whispered in his ear. He kept staring in the far distance while rhythmically fucking you, not paying any attention to your quivering figure.

“Aemond~ please” you tried again, this time louder, moaning in the process and pulling at his longe hair.

“Husband~ please look at me~ oh goods” suddenly he moved back, harshly turning you around. “Look at her.” He growled in your ear.

That’s when you saw her. Vhagar staring down at you. She was so far away you were sure she couldn’t see you due to her age, but even though there was an extreme distance between her and you, you could still see her very clearly.

“Gorgeous, right? Your cunt keeps clenching me so tight now I almost think you get pleasure from her watching us.”

You were a whimpering mess by now, your juices covering your thighs, and your husbands cock and even pelvis, giving the sand the perfect opportunity to stick to you.

He was fucking you from behind now, harsch, fast and ruthless. His hand in your hair, pulling your head up, making your scull burn.

“Do not dare to look away, wife.” Aemond whispered right in your ear, his voice hoarse and breath hitting your face.

He himself was torn between looking at his dragon and the recoil of your ass every time he buried his cock deep inside of your cunt.

“Aemond~ Aemond~” you kept blabbering and calling his name. You were moaning and your eyes were hooded, sometimes rolling in the back of your head from all the pleasure, but you still couldn’t stop looking at the mystical creature in your sight

Vhagar was huge. She was so far away, it shouldn’t be physically possible to still see her so clearly m. But you did.

With all your strength you pushed your upper body up to look behind you, spotting your husband in awe.

That’s when his eye hit you, eyebrows furrowed. “Hah~ next time I shall take you right next to her.”

Your cunt gushed at his words, your imagination running wild. Vhagar was obviously big enough for two to ride.

So you voiced your thoughts with shaking breath. “Perhaps~ next time you shall have me~ gods be g- good” you were interrupted by your own moan coming from your husband’s fingers circling your pearl.

“As I was saying~ p-perhaps next time you shall have me~ mhm~ right on top of her. R-riding in the open air.”

From there on it all came crushing down quite hard and fast. Aemond growled at the thought of that, his hips stuttering but never stopping l, such as his fast rubbing hand, making the two of you cum just minutes later.

“F-fuuck! Got me right there.” He chuckled. You were laying on your back again now, looking at him through love sick eyes.

“I am ready for round two, are you?”

[choccy-milky]

Random but when you post something I always get excited thinking it's a new chapter 😭 I'm literally waiting by my phone for it

BAHAH IM SORRY ANONS ITS COMING SOON I SWEAR!! but im glad ur looking forward to it!! my damn outline ALONE is 21k words (tho im really happy with it and im excited for yall to read it) and although i still have to finish it + the drawing, HERES PART OF THE WIP IN THE MEANTIME🥹💖(also anon, who cares if u think youre terrible at art... DRAW ANYWAY!!!😤& ILY TOO💖 )

im definitely gonna write them as adults, and have ideas for some side stories i wanna do!!! the one i mentioned in the wattpad comment would be in writing, because i wanna write about seb and clora finally deciding to have their first kid (along with the process😏😏😏😏) and how sebs breeding kink ass will react to doing the devils tango with clora when its ACTUALLY gonna make a baby LMAO. plus how his overprotective ass will act when he finds out clora is LEGIT pregnant while theyre travelling/on the JOB, rather than just a pregnancy scare like last time BAHA. so yes, overly excited seb will defs be a thing in the future LOL. (though there are things i am just gonna keep in comic form, like their kids and stuff, bc i dont rly have ideas for any sort of epilogue with that. so if ppl wanna know about seb and cloras kids, they can just look at my art once i finally draw and post them ^^)

IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO and the hairclip would defs be different!! i just havent decided what it would be.... (bro's about go buy her something bedazzled from ardene or claire's or some shit 💀💀LMAO) as for the mascots, the snake for seb would defs still apply bc ive decided its their mascot for the school football team. but for clora no, i dont think bird/raven imagery would be a thing......tho maybe the school mascots can be the snakes AND ravens LMFAO. and then i can have seb look directly into the camera and say "well, clora, looks like we really are The Raven and the Snake."

@4ever2000lover BAHAHA YOULL SEE YOUR NIECE AND NEPHEW SOON I SWEAR!!! i have the sketches but i plan to finish them + post them once im done the last chap of my fic. but they ARE coming, i promise👀👀(and im rly excited for everyone to see their daughter and her name, bc im so proud of it LMAO. i used up my entire big brain quota for the year on it +the reasoning behind it🧠)

also @blue-space-dragon TYSM IM GLAD U LIKE MY ART AND HOW I DRAW MY BLORBOS🥹💖AND ALSO THAT U FIND IT APPETIZING LMAO😋💖

[monnn]

When you know, you know.

staring: Idol! Mingyu x Non-idol!, GN! s/o

wc: 1.4k-ish

genre: slice of life(?), FLUFF. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO LOVE MINGOO, comfort-ish(?)

warnings: mentions of food, reader being sick(in love), tooth-rotting fluff.

a/n: hi omg hello, i am alive and finally out of my writer's block(ig?). i'm terribly unwell atm and i've never craved the comfort of a person as much as i do with gyu, so here's a highly self-indulgent fic! i hope you are doing okay and i just wanna say, i'm so glad to be writing again. have a great day/night and hope this fic reaches the person in need of a cutie mingoo atm! ♡

the song rec for this fic would be Margaret by LDR ft. Bleachers!!!

Mingyu's on his way back, with your favourite meal and boba. Was there a reason to get take-out? Definitely not, he really just felt like it. If you had made food, Min could convince you to have it next day. That's how it usually went and he was mostly successful. With his manager dropping him off, he heads inside the elevator and straight to your floor. Since he already knew the code to your apartment, he quietly let himself in, eyes immediately searching for you.

What he doesn't expect to find, is you sitting in the dark on a chair, curled up in one of your fav blankets with a flask coddled in your arms. Your head's supported by a chair on the dining table, mouth slightly open as you doze further away. Min quietly trots through the living room to you, slowly putting the bags down, careful not to wake you up. He adores you for a good minute, slowly lifting you up to rest in your bed. Their neck must hurt, but they keep doing this >:( he wonders to himself while carrying you.

He lets you rest while he does all the chores that you weren't able to do cause of your sickness. A few hours pass by, you wake up with Mingyu sitting by your side, barely touching you in the process of waking you up. He knew how extra sensitive you were to touch when sick, hence he decided to call out for you than kissing you to consciousness. You wake up slowly while he adjusts pillows behind for you to sit straight, he really is a nagging Asian mum in disguise. Handing you warm water to hydrate, he looks at you with all the love in him to see if you need anything from him. You catch him looking and reach for his hand, realising the love you have for him is unbelievable.

"You know love, I can't ever thank you for being so kind to me. I feel like there isn't enough of me to be so damn grateful for you." you say, lovingly gazing at the love of your life. A faint pink's spread all over his face as he nuzzles his face to your hand.

"And I'm ever so happy to be the receiver of your gratefulness, regardless of the amount. It takes two to tango I guess." he says, ever so lightly pressing his lips to your hand. After basking in each other's presence for a while, he mentions about the food he's got, which gets you outta bed in no time.

You head to the kitchen to unpack the boba, while he joins you in heating the food up. It's then you think how freeing it is, to be doing the most mundane things with Mingyu. He just seems to make the littlest of things much more better and you love that about him. A bump against your shoulder gets you back, where the food to your side is all ready to be devoured. Quickly removing the covers around drinks, you move to place them on the dining table. One where you're sitting and the other next to you. That's the thing about you guys, Mingyu never likes it when he's not next to you. He hates how all the fancy restaurants have seats across and not next to each other. But now, he gets to have a meal with you next to him and he thinks about how this is his highlight of the day. Min loves being around you and having a meal, so it's like two of his favourite things put together. You spread out the mat for the hot pan to be put on while settling down in your seat, waiting for the food to arrive. Looking at this, Mingyu hurries to place the pan down while grabbing two spoons before sitting down. Both of you look at each other, nodding in agreement to start eating. It's absolute delight running through your body and eyes for Mingyu. He loves it when you enjoy things he does for you. Raising your boba drinks to cheer, both of you devour in silence, enjoying the food and each other's presence. By end of the meal, you're much more comfortable to let Min under your skin and he's never been so much happier to be as affectionate as his heart needs. Taking the last bite, you stand up to call dibs on cleaning up since he literally did all the leftover chores. And right when you're about to get the pan, Min's grabbing you by the hand, turning you to face him. You're glad to be seeing eye-to-eye since he's on his butt and you're standing.

"What's up?"

"Can you please let me do the dishes? You're literally sick, doing more work would just worsen it."

"But Min, you did all of the chores! It's really unfair if you don't let me, you know." you say as he scoffs.

"I don't care, I love you but please let me do the cleaning."

"I love you so so sooo much too my Min, but I cannot let you do the cleaning up."

"Okay, how about we rock-paper-scissors this?"

"Alright. On the count of three, two, one!"

And to his luck, you throw a rock while he throws a paper. The council has decided and you accept your fate, slowly moving away from the pan.

Right at the moment, Mingyu pulls you in a hug, nuzzling further to your middle while almost sounding like a puppy adjusting to fall asleep. You wrap your arms around him, leaning down to lay your head on his. But, you're suddenly pushed away just to be pulled back onto his lap, while he holds you dearly and continues to be adorable. Again, you have no choice but to stay limp for him to recharge himself. It's hard not to admit how secure and loved you feel in Mingyu's big beefy arms, you kiss him on the side of his head impulsively to convey the same. That loosens his hold on you, him whining on how you always catch him off-guard with your actions. Now, there's nothing but giggles filled in your living room, both of you so knee-deep in love and into each other cause when you know, you know.

-------------------------

a/n: comments and feedback are highly appreciated! hope you enjoyed reading this work of mine, thank you! x

[angeliicheartt]

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

actually so down bad for this idea but "it's him or me" WITH TENYAYAYAAAAAAAH might be a bit 🤏🏻 ooc prompt for him but I'm in desperate need of a jealous iida in my life 🙏🏼

"ʜɪᴍ ᴏʀ ᴍᴇ."

includes: tenya iida

fem!reader

a/n: ooc!tenya, monoma is reader's friend from childhood cuz i need an "other man" ermermerm tenya is kind of in the process of courting reader? he insisted. tenya is kinda 😬 in this, pls listen to "el tango de roxanne" from the moulin rouge soundtrack i think it fits! tenya looks so fine in the pic below

it really hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal to you. 

so what if you were close with neito? the two of you had been friends since preschool. although, he proved to be a challenge to the poor boy attempting to court you, tenya.

your chest ached with worry as you stood only a few feet away from the fuming boy, the two of you gathered outside the dormitory building, the gleam from the streetlamps and the moon being the only sources of light. his uncharacteristically dark eyes boring into you, making you uneasy. his arms crossed over his chest as the two of you stood off. you stood clueless as to why tenya was mad. 

“what's got you so upset?” you try, your voice only slightly above a whisper. your feet shuffle around as you stalk closer to tenya, wanting to try and comfort him. His eyebrows furrow at you before relaxing again as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“i suppose it is rather unfair if i do not tell you what’s upset me.” he remarks, his arms unraveling to rest at his sides. you rest your weight on one leg, your hands clasping together behind you as you wait patiently for the navy-haired boy to explain. he pushes up his glasses before running a hand through his dark hair, the sight pleasing if not for the tension that filled the space between you two.

“you’re around monoma from class B a lot, y/n, it makes me feel discomfited.” he states, his eyes locked on you as your eyebrows furrow slightly. your shoulders tense as you hear tenya’s words. you thought he’d understand.

“he’s like a brother to me, tenya.” you say, your voice interlaced with disbelief. “you know that, i’ve told you that numerous times.”

“it doesn’t make me feel any different, y/n. you still fawn over him like he’s your partner,” he chastised, his volume raising the longer he talks. “you don’t do that with me.”

you scoff as your eyebrows furrowed once more, your cheeks getting hot the more worked up you get. your own arms move to rest on your hips, your jaw stiff with tension.

“last i checked, you have yet to formally ask me to be your partner, tenya, so don’t think you have the right to be mad at me for not treating you as such. i thought i would scare you away if i latched onto you so early. you wanted to take things slow, i was only respecting that.” you spat, meaner than you may have meant. you watched as tenya’s shoulders dropped, his posture hunching before straightening again, his eyes dark with vexation.

“we cannot move forward in our relationship if you are always with another man, y/n!” he hissed, his dark eyes locked on you. 

“i say hello to him! i talk to him, tenya. just like every other man i interact with! he’s my friend, nothing more!” you maintained, your voice rising in tandem with tenya’s. your chest heaved with emotion, you thought tenya was different from this.

“you're closer with him than anyone else! what am i supposed to think?” he berates, his anger not dissipating in the slightest. his hand runs through his hair once again, but you don’t even process the motion, your hand reaching up to rub your forehead, an attempt to soothe your growing headache. 

“we’ve known each other since we were five, iida! of course we’re close, i grew up with him!” you worry about your volume but the thought gets pushed to your subconscious. “you can’t just ask me to lose my whole relationship with him!”

you see tenya’s eyebrow twitch at your use of his last name, your heart ringing guilty before you steel yourself again. “i won’t stop being friends with him for anyone.”

“it’s him or me, y/n.” he stated, his words rushing ice through your veins. your lips part as you aim a glare at the boy before you. you close your mouth, your lip curling slightly as you seethe from your spot only a couple feet away from tenya.

tenya already felt the guilt and regret seeping into his stomach, the ultimatum he proposed weighing on his shoulders as you stand in silence, and.. were your eyes glassy?

you steeled yourself not to cry. tenya was who you wanted, you dreamed of ending up with a man like him, he was a gentleman, he never tried in earnest to hurt you in any way, yet he still did.

“you cannot ask me to pick,” your voice trembled but your words rang clear. “i will not pick.”

“then you’ve chosen him.” he noted, his voice a fraction of the volume it was only a few moments ago, his hand coming up to adjust his glasses once again. your breath catches in your lungs as you take in what he said.

“are you serious right now? really tenya?!” you find your voice again, continuing to spout words at this raised volume, “you’re ending what we had before we could even experience it?!”

“i suppose i am, y/n.” he says calmly as he turns, walking into the dormitory building.

he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend tonight.. how’d it go so wrong?

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @miyamoratsumuu

[magic-shop-stories]

Arranged Marriage Headcanons (AU) (Angst/Fluff/Smut Mix)

Original Request: "Would you be able to write something ot7 based on how they would be in an arranged marriage (both consenting to the marriage but just maybe not super happy about it at first or maybe they are but are awkward or however you want to do it.) Maybe like a head cannon? I really love the ones that you’ve written. Maybe some angst, some fluff, cuteness, smut. It’s okay if you can’t. I look forward to reading your work in the future either way!"

NOTE:

IMPORTANT! Due to Tumblr’s persistent "processing error" (RIP my sanity), I couldn’t post the full OT7 arranged marriage headcanons in one go without the draft self-destructing, so I split it up not wanting to not post...

THIS POST = Maknae Line (Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook)

Hyung Line (Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi) in extra post

Apologies for the hassle! Blame Tumblr’s coding demons, not your sleep depreeved girl that tried to get help from tumblr support for almsot three days (RIP)

LINK TO HYUNG LINE POST

Warnings: themes of arranged/forced unions, dark political intrigue, family manipulation, heavy emotional distress/internal conflict, explicit content (light smut), subtle violence/domestic tension, corporate and academic power plays

JIMIN = PERFECTIONIST’S IMPERFECT LOVE

“You want my heart? It’s a mess. But it’s yours.”

WHY THE MARRIAGE HAPPENED

Political Context

your family (owners of a global fashion empire) needed Jimin’s family

= South Korea’s “First Family of Performing Arts”

to revive your brand’s fading relevance

their theaters were crumbling

your designs deemed “out of touch”

amerger of spectacle and style

Your Reason

to save your mother’s life’s work from bankruptcy

Jimin’s Reason

to protect his parents’ legacy

“They sacrificed everything for my training,” 

“I’ll be their masterpiece. Even if it kills me.”

WEDDING

= A MASQUERADE OF PERFECTION

Your Attire

black-and-gold gown with a corset so tight you can’t breathe

designed to look like “liquid shadow"

Jimin’s Attire

white silk suit with a blood-red cravat

a choker hiding a thin blade (a dancer’s superstition)

“You look… acceptable.” 

his eyes are raking over you

“For a stranger.”

Location

Venetian-inspired masquerade ball in a crumbling opera house

BTS members play their roles:

Jin toasts with poisoned honey

“To the prettiest prison cell!”

Yoongi DJs a playlist titled “Songs for Doomed Lovers.”

Hobi forces Jimin into a waltz

“Stop glaring. She’s not the enemy.”

Taehyung gifts you a dagger

“For when he’s too perfect.”

Jungkook guards the exits, smirking

“In case you bolt.”

Namjoon accidentally knocks over a statue

“Art is… transient.” 

Jimin sighs

Vows

You: “I vow not to strangle you with your own cravat. Yet.” Jimin: “I vow to make you… want to stay.” 

his gaze burns

“Somehow."

Reception

drags you to the rooftop

tearing off his mask

“This is hell." 

he's hissing

“But at least we’ll look good burning.” 

you yank his cravat

lips inches apart

“Then let’s burn together.”

EARLY DAYS

= TANGO OF TEARS AND TEETH

Penthouse

glass-walled loft with a mirrored dance studio

your sketches litter the floor

his piano scores stab the walls like knives

First Fight

over his obsessive rehearsals

You: “You’ve practiced that move 100 times. It’s perfect.” Jimin: “Perfect isn’t enough!” 

he slams the piano lid

Jimin: “You wouldn’t understand; you’ve never bled for anything!” You (shoving him against the mirror): “I bled for this. For you.” 

the glass cracks

so does he

Members’ Meddling

Jimin gifts you ballet shoes: 

“Learn to keep up.” 

you set them on fire

Taehyung paints your portrait as Medusa

Jimin hangs it in the foyer

“Accurate” 

he smirks at it

Hobi forces you into couples’ therapy

therapist quits after Jimin declares:

“Love is a performance. And I always win.”

Breaking Point

you catch him crying in the shower

bloodied feet staining the tiles

you rasp: “Why?” he chokes: “Because if I’m not flawless, I’m nothing.”

you bandage his feet, hands trembling

“Then let’s be nothing together.”

TURNING POINTS

= PAS DE DEUX OF PAIN

Accident

he fractures his ankle mid-performance

you carry him offstage

he snarls: “Let me go.”  you snap: “Never.” 

Sketchbook

finds your drawings of him

= raw, angry, alive

“You… see me.”

Duet

teaches you a tango

“Stop thinking.” 

he growls, hand searing your spine

“Just feel.” 

you stumble

he catches you

“Again.” 

he breathes: “Always.”

INTIMACY

= VIOLENT GRACE

First Kiss

after he wins a dance competition

you throw champagne in his face

“Congratulations, star.” 

he pins you to the wall

licking the alcohol off your neck

“You taste like victory.”

Smutty Moments

his touch is possessive

bites your shoulder

marks you like a claim

“Mine.”

growls, always growls

you dare: “Prove it.” 

when you take control, he unravels

Jimin: “I… I don’t know how to… ”  You (whispering): “Let go.”

he does, trembling

dawn finds him sketching you

= your scars his muse

“Beautiful. Because they’re real.”

HOW IT ENDS

Five Years Later

you launch a label for “flawed” artists

dancers with scars, designers who burn their own rules.

members thrive in the chaos:

Jin models “broken” couture

“Scratches add texture!”

Yoongi produces your runway tracks

Hobi choreographs limping models into poetry

Taehyung exhibits his “Ugly Truth” collection

Jimin dances center stage

ankle brace glinting

Jimin’s Vows (Renewal Ceremony)

“I spent my life chasing perfect. You taught me to… fall. Best stumble I ever took.”

You: “Still a drama queen.” Jimin (grinning through tears): “But I’m your drama queen.”

Final

he dances with your son in the studio

the boy’s laughter echoing off cracked mirrors

Jungkook films it: 

“Appa Jimin teaching the next gen to slay.” 

Jimin posts it

caption: “Perfection is boring. We’re legendary.”

TAEHYUNG = ECLECTIC DREAMER & HIS CONSTELLATION OF CHAOS

“You called me weird? Sweetheart, I’m the whole damn galaxy.”

WHY THE MARRIAGE HAPPENED

Political Context

your family (pioneers of AI-driven climate tech) needed Taehyung’s family

= custodians of Korea’s lost folk arts

to humanize your corporation’s icy reputation

their ancestral art vaults were crumbling

your tech needed soul

merger of algorithms and analog

Your Reason

to save your mother’s AI rainforest project from being axed by heartless investors

Taehyung’s Reason

to protect his grandmother’s centuries-old pansori scrolls

“They’re her heartbeat.” 

signing the contract with a fountain pen dipped in blue ink

“I’ll be the madman they need. But I won’t be tamed.”

WEDDING

= A BOHEMIAN RUCKUS

Your Attire

gown stitched from recycled satellite fabrics

shimmering like a nebula

“Fitting.” 

Taehyung smirks when he sees it 

“You’re as cold as space.”

Taehyung’s Attire

patchwork blazer (his grandmother’s silk, his father’s military patches)

mismatched socks

a beret tilted just so

“Chaos in couture.” 

he winks, snapping polaroids of guests uninvited

Location

abandoned planetarium turned art squat in Daegu

BTS members wreak havoc:

Jin wears a “Worldwide Best Man” sash

heckles Taehyung’s vows

Yoongi DJs vinyl records of thunderstorms and whale songs

Jimin choreographs a “first dance” 

= devolves into Taehyung twirling you like a dandelion

Hobi hangs paper cranes from the ceiling

Jungkook swings from them

Namjoon gives a speech about “love as quantum entanglement” 

Taehyung cuts in:

“Hyung, you’re ruining the vibes.”

Vows

You: “I vow to never delete your weird playlists. Even the one titled ‘Screaming into the Void’.” Taehyung: “I vow to… color outside your lines.” 

he grins

he's pulling a paintbrush from his pocket

swiping a streak of cerulean down your cheek

“Now we match.”

Reception

he vanishes

you find him in the planetarium’s projection room

lying on the floor as star maps flicker overhead

You: “Regretting your chaos in couture already?” Taehyung: “Nah. Just thinking… stars die screaming. But we’re here. Isn’t that weird?” 

he pats the floor

“Sit. Let’s be weird together.”

EARLY DAYS

= COLLISIONS OF COSMOS AND CODE

Mansion

retro-futuristic loft with a rooftop greenhouse (yours)

a basement darkroom (his)

his walls are plastered with film negatives

yours glow with holographic data trees

First Fight

over his midnight escapades

You: “You brought a literal stray cow upstairs?! ”Taehyung: “She’s a muse! Look at her eyes!” 

the cow moos

Jin texts: “I’m charging you for my designer couch.”

Members’ Meddling

Jimin gifts a “Couples’ Bucket List”:

#1: “Get matching tattoos (preferably of the cow).”

Hobi paints your AI drones to look like fireflies

you retaliate by coding them to buzz “BORING” 

Namjoon hosts a “Philosophy & Wine” night

Taehyung argues that “the moon is just space’s teardrop.”

Breaking Point

you find his hidden sketchbook

pages of you

you scowling at code, you laughing mid-sneeze, you asleep with holographs flickering on your face

You: “Why?” Taehyung (blushing): “You’re… my favorite paradox. Warm circuits, cold heart.” You (softly): “My heart isn’t cold. Just… buried.” Taehyung: “Let’s dig.”

TURNING POINTS

= LOVE AS A MIXED MEDIA MASTERPIECE

Observatory Date

drags you to a hilltop, telescope in tow

“See that star? It died 1,000 years ago. But we’re still watching its scream.” 

you kiss him under the ghost light

Cow’s Legacy

the stray (named Galaxy) gives birth in your greenhouse

Taehyung sobs: 

“Life! In the stupid lettuce!”

Panic Attack

freezes mid-gallery show

whispers trembling: 

“What if I’m not enough?” 

you step onstage

grip his hand

“This artist? He’s everything.”

INTIMACY

= UNTAMED AND UNSPOOLED

First Kiss

after he wins an art prize

you scoff: “Congrats, Van Gogh.” 

he pins you against his mural

smearing paint across your lips

“Taste the rainbow, princess.”

Smutty Moments

his hands are artist’s hands

calloused, ink-stained

mapping your body like a canvas

“Here.”

murmurs, biting your hip

“This is where I’ll paint you gold.”

when you undress him, he’s shy

“I’m… not a sculpture.” 

you trace his scars

“No. You’re better.”

dawn finds him sketching your naked form bathed in hologram light

“Stay still.” 

he pouts, when you move

“Or don’t. Chaos is prettier.”

HOW IT ENDS

Five Years Later

your mansion is a “Sanctuary for Lost Things”

stray animals, failed tech, orphaned art

members thrive:

Jin hosts “Ramen with Cows” nights

Galaxy becomes Instagram famous

Yoongi scores documentaries about your chaos

Jimin dances with feral kittens

Jungkooks’s “Scars & Stars” exhibit goes viral

his centerpiece?

a hologram of you and TAehyung mid-fight

titled “How Love Collides.”

Taehyung’s Vows (Renewal Ceremony)

“They said we’d crash. But baby, we’re a supernova.”

slips a ring made from Galaxy’s first bell

“My forever muse.”

You: “Still a weirdo.” Taehyung (grinning): “But you’re my weirdo.”

Final

teaches your daughter to paint

her tiny hands smearing cerulean on his nose

Jungkook films it

Taehyung captions it: “Masterpiece in progress.”

JUNGKOOK = WILD HEART & HIS UNLIKELY TAMER

“You think you can handle me? Good luck. I bite.”

WHY THE MARRIAGE HAPPENED

Political Context

your family (owners of a global security empire specializing in AI defense systems) needed Jungkook’s family

= legendary mercenaries turned private military contractors

to add brute force to your tech’s precision

their trigger fingers were losing contracts

your code needed muscle

merger of bullet and byte

Your Reason

to protect your sister from being sold into a rival alliance

Jungkook’s Reason

to free his brother from prison

“He took a fall for me.” 

Jungkook mutters, signing the contract with a switchblade jammed into the table

“This is my penance. Don’t get in my way.”

WEDDING

= WAR ZONE IN WHITE

Your Attire

bulletproof ivory corset dress (your design)

hidden holsters strapped to your thighs

Jungkook’s Attire

black tactical suit

sleeves rolled to showcase his tattoos

crown on his hand, ARMY on his knuckles, and the tiger lily are what you recognise first

 “Like what you see?” 

he smirks, catching you staring

“Don’t get attached.”

Location

cliffside fortress in Jeju

waves crashing below

BTS members toe the line between guests and guards:

Jin wears a “Worldwide Best Man” kevlar vest

“Romance is dead, but I’m immortal!”

Yoongi snipes drones from a tower

he's grumbling

“I’m not your damn wedding planner.”

Jimin chokeslides into the ceremony

tossing confetti grenades

“Congrats, lovebirds!”

Taehyung paints a mural of you both as mythical warrior

= Jungkook as a wolf, you as a storm

Hobi DJs a mix of trap and Debussy

“Balance, people!”

Namjoon officiates, quoting Sun Tzu: 

“Love is the ultimate warfare...” 

Jungkook cuts him off:

“Skip the lecture. Let’s fight already.”

Vows

You: “I vow not to shoot you. Unless you deserve it.” Jungkook: “I vow to… stay. For now.”

flashes his ARMY knuckle tattoo

 “But cross me, and I’ll vanish.”

Reception

he disappears

you find him on the cliff’s edge

shirtless, tattoos glowing in the moonlight

You: “Regretting this?” Jungkook: “Nah. Just wondering how fast you’d fall.” 

nods to the drop

You (stepping closer): “Try me.”

he grins = feral, thrilling

then pulls you back

“Later, princess.”

EARLY DAYS

= CLASH OF CLAWS AND CODE

Compound

steel-and-glass bunker

with a shooting range (his)

a hacker’s den (yours)

his gym reeks of sweat and gun oil

yours hums with servers and paranoia

First Fight

over his reckless missions

You: “You nearly blew up my servers!” Jungkook: “Your servers were in the way.” 

slams a knife into your desk

Jungkook: “Next time, move ’em.” You (yanking the knife out): “Next time, I’ll move you.”

Members’ Meddling

Jimin gifts matching daggers

“Stab each other gently!”

Taehyung paints your faces on grenades

Jungkook hangs them as “art.”

Hobi forces you into couples’ MMA classes

Jungkook pins you in 10 seconds

“Weak.”

you knee his ribs

“Better.”

Breaking Point

you hack his mission files

discovering his brother’s arrest was a setup

You: “You’re being played.”Jungkook (slamming you against the wall): “Stay out of my head!”You (cold): “Or what? You’ll kill me? Do it.” 

his grip loosens

“…Fuck. You’re crazy.”

TURNING POINTS

= BLOODIED TRUST

Ambush

takes a bullet shielding you

you scream

“Why?!”

later stitching his wound

“You… owe me a rematch.”

he gasps, tracing your panic

Tattoo

lets you touch his tattoos for the first time

“It’s for my brother”

he admits it when you keep tracing the same spot

“He called me his beast.”

Code

you decrypt his brother’s files

“He’s innocent.”

Jungkook stares

tears mixing with blood

“…Thank you.”

INTIMACY

= FERAL AND FERVENT

First Kiss

after he wins a fight club match

you toss a towel at him

“You’re bleeding.”

grabs your wrist

licking the blood off his lip

“Your turn.”

Smutty Moments

his touch is raw

bites your neck

grips your hips hard enough to bruise

“Mine.”

ARMY knuckles whitening

you dare him to prove it

when you straddle him, he freezes

vulnerable under his ink

Jungkook: “I… don’t know how to be soft.” You (whispering): “Then don’t.”

dawn finds him sketching you asleep

crown tattoo brushing your cheek

“Pretty. When you’re quiet.”

HOW IT ENDS

Five Years Later

you dismantle the corrupt alliance

freeing his brother

the compound becomes a sanctuary for rogue agents and hackers

members thrive:

Jin hosts “Kevlar & Karaoke” nights

Yoongi trains recruits

Jimin teaches “Dance-Fu.”

Taehyung paints murals of your battles

Hobi turns them into NFT art

Jungkook and his brother open a gym

“No guns. Just fists.”

Jungkook’s Vows (Renewal Ceremony)

“I used to think love was a cage. You… you’re the key.”

slips a ring forged from his first bullet

“My forever fight.”

You: “Still a brute.” Jungkook (grinning): “But I’m your brute.”

Final

chases your son through the gym

the boy wearing mini tactical gear

Namjoon films and comments it:

“Baby Beast in training”

Jungkook posts it

caption: “Legacy secured.”

HYUNG LINE POST

[hybbart]

I don’t know why, but I love the way you wrote the one short story when Tango was rescued by Wels and all that. I read it months ago and it lives in my head RENT FREE. Like- it always gives me inspiration to write or something, but the way you describe things is just so fantastic whereas I struggle to just describe people. I keep revisiting that one short story, but there’s just something about the way you describe Tango constantly in and out of consciousness that just tickles my brain! Best part, I had to read it twice to fully understand it, which in things like that, is just freaking fantastic. Your art and writing is just fantastic, so I wanted to share my appreciation for that, especially since your AU is just STUCK in my head! Thank you for feeding my life series hyper fixation. Especially my Ranchers hyper fixation. Love your work!

-Skele

Thank you! I like to try writing from a very close, subjective third person perspective. A lot of the writing I do, fanfic and personal projects, tend to wind up with a lot of povs, and though I think I have a lot of room for improvement in making them distinct from each other, one of my favourite things about it is the limited info each character has because of their personal perspective. It's the easiest and funnest way to spice up my writing that can get kind monotonous and informational. Having characters who are sensory deprivated/having processing troubles/mistaking things/dreaming is one of the funnest parts of writing this way imo.

I'll admit for that one I channelled a lot of sleep paralysis experiences. And some biblical level melodramatics from Tango, because he'd been... focused, we'll say, on finding Jimmy by that point lol. If it isn't Jimmy then why does it exist? Love dramatic Tango.

[map1e-1stru3]

So I had a dream the other night, and it was about Skyblings and Ranchers. Of course.

I might make an actual AU about it, and so I am writing down all the small details for later. I also made the drawings because of that too! Naming it Hunted AU for now. :p

(Read about it below cut!)

So in my dream, Jimmy (Canary, you guessed it)lived in this avian tribe with his cousins Grian and Pearl (Scarlet macaw and Hyacinth macaw respectively), but one day he went out scavenging idk berries or something like that and he was spotted by humans(Who poach avians for their feathers and claws). He started to fly back to his tribe to warn them that they were found out but he was shot like, 3 times in the process.

He just barely makes it over the walls, tumbling face first into the ground, bleeding heavily, and everyone in the tribe starts panicking and fleeing and Pearl & Grian are the only ones to try to patch him up in a medical hut. But they were too slow, and as they were still taking out the arrows the hunters tracked them down, flanked with back-up. Grian, the oldest out of the three, tell Pearl to ‘See if anyone is outside that can help’, but they all know he wants her to flee while she can. Pearl resists at the start of course, but he forces her to follow the others flying away, escaping through the window.

When the hunters start banging on the door, Grian helps Jimmy hide in some barrels, making sure to chuck the bloodied mat out the window, discarding any evidence that anyone else was there.

He himself doesn’t have much time or space to hide, and in a moment of sacrifice he stands in the center of the room, giving himself up to save Jimmy. He did put up a fight with the poachers, but he gets captured anyways. Then, the hunters set the village on fire? For some reason? So Jimmy has to clamber out from his spot and starts running as fast as he could into the woods, as fast as an injured runt of an avian can, and finally collapses after 20 or so minutes of sprinting, in a cave somewhere.

But when he wakes, it is not in the cave. Because behold, he was saved by Tango! He is a blaze born, with a self made prosthetic leg, currently resided in an abandoned ranch building with no animals. When Jimmy sits up though, he notices he is missing his right wing.

Tango says it was infected really bad(Jimmy was shot there prior. Ig some time has passed after he passed out?) and he had no choice but to cut it off. And so, their companionship begins, mildly begrudging, but both of them can’t really do much about it. Jimmy is in search of his tribe, if there are still any left, and Tango? I can’t remember. I think he was running from the law. Or something.

That is where the dream ended, but damn, it was really detailed and interesting! And just… When Grian was making Jimmy hide and the way he dropped the nickname and started calling him ‘Jimmy’, his voice shaking, and the visual of Jimmy looking up at him, eyes hazy, breath labored from pain.. asking ‘But what about you?’ just….. I don’t know.

[amethystfairy1]

I have a question about Docs robotic arm, and I can't remember if it's ever been talked about or answered (sorry if it has lol), but can it feel (or register) pain?

Now, obviously I'm assuming it can't necessarily get hurt (outside of literally harming the metal/redstone anyway), and im pretty sure it's been stated that Doc would handle baby Tango whenever he got too hot because his metal arm wouldn't get hurt, but, can it register pain, per se?

Say, for example, his arm encounters high levels of heat, the arm doesn't actually get affected, he himself probably doesn't get affected much assuming the heat stays concentrated on his arm, but is he aware that it hurts? Is his brain firing pain signals to a limb that can't process them (or vice versa)? Does his arm maybe take in data, and relay to his archival eye that there are high levels of heat near/on his arm? So no pain is registered, but rather the heat (and or presence of what should be pain) itself?

And, lastly, in the event none of that is true, could the metal itself heat up enough to the point it would hurt his actual skin? Could his shoulder/back/neck get hurt where the grafted metal plates meet skin if his arm was hot enough? (I highly doubt it but if theres any Meta Runner fans reading this think Lucinia's arm lol. That arm definitely burned her in the explosion. Anyway im getting off track whoops)

Sorry for the long ask, that may not even make sense, and has potentially been answered/talked about before lol. (And or sorry for making you think things that havent been/wouldn't normally be thunk) Feel free to not even answer this I'll probably forget about it in a couple hours (i really need to get to sleep man. So eepy) But uh. Love your writing and hope you're blessed with the cold side of your pillow tonight <3

It doesn't register pain in the traditional sense, no. He does get phantom pains from the absence of his actual arm, though! He also does do the data registration thing that you mention! So for example of he's holding a crying lil Tango and Tango is heating up, his arm will register the high heat and relay that info to his archival eye, but he won't feel like he's being burned. Also yes, it could get hot enough to burn his skin, buuuuut that heat would have to be extremely high. He's held Tango during a panic attack and that hasn't been able to do it. So while it's possible, it's very unlikely to ever actually happen. Hope that makes sense! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing!

[alwaysthebiggerbear]

i think I've seen this film before - Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Summary: When three certain little words escape him, you know them for what they are: a plea not to leave him alone with only his thoughts and whiskey for company. You’ve seen this song and dance before.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader Warnings: heavy angst, cheating/infidelity, light smut, dagger analogy (Idk if this is a thing but putting it here in case) Word Count: 2202 First posted on here: 11/28/24 Response to prompt from @me-writes-prompts dividers by @firefly-graphics

“I love you.”

Those three little words, barely said in a whisper, make you freeze. After your heart starts beating again, after your brain has processed that yes, he really just said that, you continue slipping your shirt over your head. 

Once you pull your hair free from your neckline, you turn to where you left him moments earlier, sprawled out on his back on the bed, an arm behind his head with the mist of sweat drying on his skin, his hair a crime scene of damp wayward strands with your fingers having been the perpetrator. You find him watching you intently with those eyes that you swear can see down to the deepest parts of you zeroed in on your face, a faint trace of hope lining the irises you’ve so often found yourself lost in these past few months. You momentarily clench your jaw as you steel yourself to say what you need to. “You shouldn’t say that to me.”

Where you expected to see heartbreak or some vestiges of pain, you only saw determination, suddenly renewed. You then realize your mistake. You hadn’t said the one word he expected to hear, the one he needed to hear: No. So it doesn’t surprise you when you see the hope in his gaze flare brighter, perhaps believing he’s not alone in this after all. 

You watch as he moves aside the thin sheet covering the last traces of his modesty, fully revealing himself to you as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. The irony of the action is not lost on you; he’s making himself vulnerable before you, letting you see every inch of him, even what’s beyond skin deep.

He is suddenly before you, this large man whose hulking stature had completely dwarfed you minutes ago as he had pushed your thighs back and pistoned in and out of you, groans escaping him as droplets of his sweat christened your bare skin repeatedly. And yet, despite the size of him, here he is, exposing himself in such a way that you feel like the tall one, even as you crane your neck to meet his intent gaze head on.

The tips of his fingers gently urge your chin up a little higher so he can see all of you, both of you laid bare to one another as his eyes swallow you whole. “Yes, I should,” he murmurs. “I love you.” You know what’s about to happen, especially as his eyelids lower slightly and he begins to dip his head. The insatiable monster inside you craves his lips on yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a tango that mimics the one your bodies just did, craves him, but you force yourself to pull away.

Ignoring the hurt lining his expression, you turn to look for your shoes that had been kicked off as you both stumbled into the room, glued to one another and tearing at each other’s clothes in your desperate need to have your skin meeting his. Once you spot them, you take a step in that direction when his hand on your elbow stops you.

“Baby,” he pleads. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, refusing to look at him like he’s begging you to.

When you attempt to move again, his hand releases you only for his arm to snake around your waist and prevent you from leaving. You’re not surprised when he pulls you closer and you can feel the scratchiness of his unshaven face against your neck as he burrows into you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear. He’s begging again, though this time you know it’s more for you not to leave more than his insistence on your belief in his feelings for you. He doesn’t want you to leave him here, alone with only his thoughts to keep him company along with some top shelf whiskey the hotel staff stocks exclusively for him in the mini bar. 

It used to work, this heartfelt plea whispered against your skin, nuzzled against your cheek, pressed against your lips, until you gave in and let him lay you back down on the bed, giving yourself over to him completely for however long he wanted you. Now, though, you’ve grown stronger, smarter, and that’s why it’s easier than ever to push away from him and look him dead in the eye. “Then get a divorce.”

You see the expected pain magnify throughout his handsome face and you take the opportunity of his reaction to your response to finally move away and grab your shoes, slipping them on as quickly as possible. 

He quietly clears his throat before the familiar deep voice that has murmured the dirtiest and sweetest things you’ve ever heard into your ear tears through the quiet paper-thin hush of the room that usually exists once your frenzied lovemaking ceases. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this. You know I can’t—”

“Not my problem,” snaps out of you. You don’t even bother to roll your eyes anymore at the age-old response he gives you every time you dose both of you with reality like this. Except it is your problem, very much your problem. Hell, it became your problem the moment you allowed him into your apartment that one snowy night, fully knowing you were about to change your life forever and not necessarily for the better. When you finally found out how easily your scratches could be seen on his skin, how divine his lips tasted especially after they had drunk deeply from yours and your body still ricocheted with aftershocks from your orgasm, and how taut his back muscles became with every slow and hard thrust into you. When you found out how intoxicating the sounds of his groans in your ear were as he took pleasure in what your body offered his, how dry your mouth was afterwards from all of the loud panting you did as his mouth ghosted over yours while he repeatedly hit that one spot deep within you, and how tightly he held onto you once he came, unwilling to let you go until he had absolutely had to.

You tamp down the desire you feel unfurling underneath your skin at the memories of that night and grab your jacket and handbag from where you’d tossed them. You refuse to think any further about that night, about how he had begged you to let him in, his chest heaving and snowflakes rapidly melting in his short hair, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them and glancing repeatedly at your lips. You absolutely don’t think about the way his mouth desperately claimed yours the moment you opened the door wider and he was on you, kicking the door shut behind him. Or about how only minutes later he had you backed up against the wall, your jeans and panties tossed away somewhere, and him on his knees with his head buried between your legs, making you grip his hair as you bit your lip so hard it bled. Or even about how you had clawed at the wall he had turned you to face as he pounded away at you, his hand turning your head so he could sloppily kiss you, grunting loudly into your ear with every thrust as the rough fabric of his coat sleeve rubbed against your neck. Or how the buckle of his open belt rattled with his movements, only to be rivaled by your own cries, both being surpassed by his loud drawn out roar of “Fuck!” as he buried himself to the hilt within you and burrowed his face into your neck. His hot and harsh breaths dampened your skin while you reached a hand up to run soothingly through his wet hair, struggling to regain the ability to breathe yourself. No, you weren’t going to think about how he then moved you to your bedroom from where neither of you emerged until hours later in search of sustenance and electrolytes.

Instead of allowing yourself to get lost in the thoughts of that night, you take a small breath and start heading for the door.

“I love you, dammit.” He’s angry now, just as you knew he would be the closer you got to leaving, leaving him. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

You stop and you hear him take a step closer. You don’t have to turn to look at him to know there is a cautious renewal of hope lighting his eyes. You had stopped after all. But you both have done this dance before and each time it ends the same way. 

“No, you don’t,” you answer him quietly, almost gently. Your aim is not to hurt him, never to hurt him. He’s been hurt enough and you will be damned if will be like her and add to his pain. But at the same time, you can’t lie nor will you continue to swallow any of his. So, like always, you spare him but not yourself. “You think you do, but you don’t. You don’t love me.”

“Yes, I do.” He’s closer now, his voice is cracking slightly…he’s a few moments away from coiling his arms around you like a snake and keeping you from walking out the door, again. 

And so you make it quick, you plunge the dagger of truth into your own chest and let the pain bloom within you, spreading quickly through your veins like wildfire. “You don’t because if you did, you wouldn’t keep me in a holding pattern like this.” You then force yourself to turn and face him, your eyes hard as diamonds and your face one of stone. “I’m purely a convenient fuck for you when you get lonely, or someone to call when it all becomes too much. This isn’t even an affair. I’m nothing more than a painkiller that comes with an orgasm or two. That’s it and you know it. So, no, you don’t love me, because if you did, you would never use me like this.”

As expected, his eyes widen and his jaw drops. You can see the protests building in his throat but you cut him off.

“And if I loved you, I wouldn’t let you continue to use me like this.” 

He stands there, staring at you, a small sadness growing in his deep gaze. This always happens. As much as you try to spare him and not bleed out your pain all over him, some tiny amount almost always splashes onto him. You can’t help that. One of you has to be the strong one and keep it real; it just happens to always be you.

So you don’t allow his crestfallen expression to get to you and you lift your chin slightly, rolling your shoulders back as you straighten your spine. “I’ll see you when I see you.” 

You spin on your heel and stride towards the door. When your fingers grab onto the door handle, you hear a broken plea of “Don’t leave…please.” You clench your jaw and force yourself to open the door, refusing to look back.

“Goodbye, Jensen.”

You walk across the threshold and pull the door closed behind you. You make your way to the elevators, unsurprised that he doesn’t quickly dress and run after you. He never has before; why would that change now? When the elevator dings and thankfully the car is empty, you step into it and hit the “close door” button. You wait and as expected, no calls of “Wait!” or chimes of your phone sound as the doors take their sweet time closing despite their directive. Once they’re shut, once there is no possibility of him seeing you or hearing you, you sink against the wall of the car and grasp at your chest, your breath loudly catching as the full weight of the pain you had denied yourself begins to flow through you anew. Tears mark your cheeks and you let out a sound akin to a strangled sob. 

Yes, you do love him and that is why you continue to let him use you in this way. That is why you opened the door that night and let him in, fully knowing what was going to happen. That is why you allowed him to take your friendship and mangle it into whatever dark and hopeless form it takes now. You fucking love him; of course you do.  In the same breath, though, you know he doesn’t love you and this last bit of pain is what finishes you as the elevator continues to descend: and he never will. You turn your body to face the corner and hold a hand over your mouth, beginning to cry outright. He will never love you the way you love him. No matter how many times you run to him when he calls, no matter how you let him take pleasure in you or comfort in your arms, no matter how many times you’ve begged him to end things with her and be with you instead…he will never love you. You loudly sob as the sharp tip of that truth dagger from before lodges itself into your heart, almost neatly fitting into the groove from all of the previous times. Your heartbreak is the only sound that echoes throughout the small space along with the glaring silence of your phone. And just like that, once again, the dance comes to its predictable end.

A/N: As always, no disrespect is ever meant to Jensen, Danneel, or their family. I’m not suggesting or implying anything about either Jensen or Danneel, I just had him in my head while writing. Purely fictional.

A/N 2: Sequel coming soon...

[khoirkid]

Whumptober Interview with Amethyst!

Before the glorious event that is whumptober, I reached out to Amethyst to ask a bit about her process and what to look forward to. (Everything is shared with her permission.) You can find her tumblr @amethystfairy1 so hop on over and give her some support for October!

Q. How does the writing style and process change for a month-long event verses just writing?

A. I guess with like, my long form stuff, I write with a ton more detail for the month long events, especially since I've done multiple now, I try to pick out a specific thing to center the fic around and use that as a through line, strip it down to it's bones, and just go with that... I try to be a bit more abstract and use extended metaphors for the month long events

Q. How do you find a balance between the TTSBC AU and the TT au?

A. I don't. [A]ctual answer... um...I don't (Interviewer: Well, you know you have a 50/50 split for whumptober, right?) I DO... WAIT... I DO???... THAT WAS A TOTAL ******* FLUKE... you give me far to much credit... no that was a total coincidence

Q. Are there any characters you feel like you’re drawn to for whump?

A. Tango and Scott. [I]ts just because they feel so bright and spunky... so breaking them in different ways is really interesting... And it's different from like, Grian Pearl and Jimmy because with the three of them their fannon characters have such a wide expanse of styles that slotting them into the broken avian mindset wasn't impossible...it was tricky at times for Grian to write him being so docile and obedient because pesky bird and all but even still, with Tango it doesn't fit, and so finding a way to make it fit is super interesting! Same with Scott!

Q. Is there anyone who isn't easy/fun to whump?

A. Everyone is fun to whump in some way... As far as not easy ...Pearl has been tricky, mainly because I write her so as being so solid in her emotions usually

Q. Is there anything you think will surprise readers for the coming whumptober?

A. I think there's a lot more plot relevance than people realize on the way. Several of the fics are... crucial to the plot going forward.

Q. Do these writing challenges help you come up with some of the plot or does the plot just fall into them?

A. Both! The plot has it's shapes and curves already, but doing these writing challenges sometimes helps me put pins in specific themes to tie in important plot points and drive the au forward.

Q. Finally, is there anything readers should watch for and what day are you most excited for?

A. Day 10 and Day 25 will probably be the most plot relevant of the bunch! As well as Day 31! I'm personally the most excited to for Day 10, as I think it's going to be super amazing seeing the response to that from everyone who's been so kind as to follow my AUs for so long!!!! (Interviewer: It's a well done major ouchie) I love thinking about that as I'm writing, especially since both TT and TTSBC have gotten so much love, imagining what folks are going to comment and enjoy about it!

[poetthewriter]

Hello, I was wondering if you could write a Team Ranchers / Jimmy and Tango like maybe if they all hadn't seen each other in a long time and get reunited. (I hope this is specific enough im not great with explaining things.) If your requests aren't open you can completely ignore this. I hope you are and have an amazing day and thank you for even reading this.!!

Tell a friend to tell a friend he's baaaackkkk, Hi beautifuls! ive been gone for so long and i'm trying to get myself back into swing!! you all have been so patient with me and i give the biggest thats for that<3 for now i will be emptying my inbox and hopefully get it re-opened you can still always send me requests it might just take time!!

The Way Back Home.

Ranchers x GnReader

Life series= 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒑𝒔&𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒘𝒔🌶️🥕🌽

smidge of : 𝑬𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔= 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔&𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔🥮🍡🍯

An alone soul was not known of in the newest game of life, each person tied to another holding them together with the bond of a soul filled string. You on the other hand were alone. maybe it was a punishment from the watchers above or maybe a gift from the ears that listened in. You would watch as the pairs lived each holding something, each other. Even if they didn't want to be they were together no matter what and once again you seemed to always remember you were alone.

One colder day, you walked over the bridge that crossed above the deep river alone. The grass crushed under the soft stomp of your feet and as you looked up you had spot and smelt the ashing woodstove of the ranch. Coming closer you saw the two men out front of the build and kept you distance continuing on your route, Tango was the first to spot your hair flying in the windy air.

Almost as bright as his fiery hair his voice yelled to the brown path calling your attention, Jimmy looked over his shoulder and soon joined in with his other half. You were confused and to be honest just wanted to return to you base, your hands were blistered with bruises and coal from the mines. You wanted to rest and to finish living out this stupid game.

With a soft tired breath you walked closer to the two men, both leaned on the fence. Tango rested his face on his muddy hands looking at you as you walked closer from the other side of the fence, on the other hand Jimmy sat teetering on the edge waiting for you curiously.

"Y/n! how do you do!" Tangos loud voice sprung, you looked at him with a confused and exhausted gaze honestly debating on whether or not answering, but you had to, the giddy smirks on their faces left you with no choice.

"How are you Tango, Timmy?" you responded trying to keep as much of a beat as you could, Jimmy didn't seem to impressed by the common nickname but let it slide, for now.

Tango and Jim continued to ask you on about you day wondering about your coal stained arms, tired eyes and slouchy posture. It was almost to much for you to process.

soon after, with a lot of pressure they finally pushed you right on inside and served you with a warm meal and bed. it was nice, comfortable, warm. A big difference from the wet, cold base you had made for your temporary stay.

After that you were never the same and by that you never left, they let you stay, more like they wanted you to stay. You grew to feel something that could never last across the known brutal ends of trials like this. They grew to love you, more than anything. And you, you grew to adore them.

As the end came your last sight was that of the two far beyond your reach, a cold and swift sword piercing you from behind. You shouldn't have gotten so connected in this game, you knew how it would end. and with that fact in mind this death hurt more than anything, cause now you had something to lose. You lost it.

It was like limbo, nothing was around you and it felt like an eternity since you felt warmth, or the touch of anything. You floated around in a dream like state till you finally woke up.

Weeks? Monthes? there was nothing and this close you mind had been from losing its self. A crystalline portal stood waving in front of you calling you name, pulling you closer, it almost felt familiar. Slowly steeping one hand through it felt warm as the sun, fresh as the sky, all you body could do was push itself through.

Standing up from the fertile grounds a view of beautiful architecture stood high, a large purple portal and many different sectors of buildings. Voices were everywhere but none were recognisable until the joyful chuckle of a cowboy rung to your ears like a whistle to a dog. Your head snapped and feet moved quick as light chasing down the sweet soft sound that you had left behind.

There, two stood.

As the trees bumbled with swishes behind them everything felt perfect and nothing could have prepared you for the moment your eyes met theirs. Tangos eyes went wide as his eyebrows turned downwards well Jimmy's shocked face rose with a still of disbelief.

"You..." Tango stumbled of his feet.

"You came home!!" jimmy yelled without a thought

"I found my way back..."

The four leg shared between the two moved like that of a lightning bolt and there they were, there you were. Back into their arms.