#youre telling me that you wouldn't turn?? do you even love them???????

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[muzaktomyears]

Two of Us play notes/thoughts/Easter eggs I noticed

they played solo Beatles tracks as waiting music before the play began so I sat there listening to ‘Monkberry Moon Delight’ with a theatreful of people which was great 

before Paul turns up John is baking(/burning) bread

John is wearing underwear under his dressing gown which obvs had to be but also my suspension of disbelief was CHALLENGED

when Paul rings up to be let in John does a little rhyme to make him prove he is who he says he is. this is not the exact wording but it went something like: "Five little boys in Hamburg did play/All through the night and all through the day/Ingrid the stripper would do anything/But who got the clap? Was it sexy Stu Sutcliffe - or the lead singer in Wings?" and then Paul has to admit it was him who got the clap

when Paul takes his shoes off he also takes his socks off - idk if this is an intentional barefoot Paul thing but it is hilarious later when they're fighting and Paul is about to leave and angrily putting his socks back on

John and Paul have Get Back era hair/beards, which is weird - presumably because they assume people going to see this will also have seen Get Back but might not know their 1976 looks as well?? idk

some of the dialogue and references have been made a bit more British - the skit they do at the piano is now set in a British greasy spoon instead (still with the American accents)

instead of fighting "like the Hatfields and McCoys" they're now fighting like "the Montagues and the Capulets" (👀)

'Sh-Boom' is played on the record player while they smoke weed (Paul uses the album cover to roll the joint)

George and Ringo both get more of a mention! Paul says that George is happy now (John replies that he's not happy, he's reincarnated). John tells Paul a story Ringo told him about going on a bus in NYC and being recognised.

"I'm the best fuck you ever had" is said by John during the fight (Paul replies "If that's your way of saying you were the real brains behind the Beatles-" etc. etc.)

"You should have married me when you had the chance" is said by John during the Yoko/losing my friend bit

"It's only me" as John's way to get Paul not to leave after the fight

when John goes out to get disguises for them Paul sits at the piano and starts playing some notes he finds there (he'd asked about them earlier and John had said they're nothing). we get a few notes of 'Now and Then' before John returns (ghjshgkhgkdshgksd who did this I HATE YOU)

the appearance of the I Love Paul badge!! John wears it on his disguise jacket and Paul asks what it says. John tells him and then Paul replies "Lucky Paul".......

they never go outside in this version - John says he'll go but then thinks better of it. this means that John comes across as even more locked away than he does in the film.

the police bit is sort of done when Paul puts on a leather hat from the disguises and pretends to be a policeman come to question John, who John then talks back at. he also yells out of the window at some police below at one point.

Paul realises they're never actually going to Luigi's, so John lays the table for him as if they're at a restaurant together (including calling him "Lady McCartney" and "my love")

the bit with the fan is sort of recreated but instead it's John asking Paul whether he truly thinks Wings at the Speed of Sound is the number 1 record in America (which obvs changes it quite a lot)

Julian is brought up - they're toasting to various people/things (ending with "Dr. Winston O'Boogie and Paul Ramon") and Paul says "to Julian" and sort of confronts John about him and how he treated him

during the toasting Paul also mentions "putting hair on a seagull's chest" which John questions and then Paul says it's something his dad used to say

I thought the lift scene/roof scene wouldn't be happening... BUT THEN a lift descended from the ceiling ❤️ the magic of theatre

the kiss still happens and idk but I thought the vibe was a bit different from the film version - less jokey (and no lines after about brushing his teeth/is my name Brian)

Paul: I bought into it that you and me didn't get along well (paraphrasing the Stephen Colbert interview)

they hug at the end of the roof conversation (I was sat very close to this since the actors come in front of the stage to do it and they were both crying and it WAS ALL TOO MUCH 😭😭)

John gets them two guitars to practice with before they go out and they sit opposite each other in chairs and Paul says “I know which one to begin with” and John says “What?” and they lean forward and then the phone rings

when Paul leaves John he’s crying and it’s like okay rip out my heart I guess

the play ends with Paul on the phone to Linda and John on the phone to Yoko, at opposite sides of the stage, and they say “I love you” to their wives but also to each other and it’s ridiculous????

yeah then ‘Give Peace a Chance’ plays which is such a bizarre choice idek

anyway who knows if it's a good play or what the actual people there thought about it because obvs I can have no rational reaction to it but I'm so glad I went to see it because someone on the writing team is one of us I SEE YOU

[seasons-of-death]

bsf!rafe and reader miss each other

warnings: angst aka the one where rafe is in the doghouse. i wanted to try and write a bit of a dual-pov situation of the time after reader ended things, it's a bit experimental for me but i hope it's still enjoyable! this might be a bit melancholic but eh (also i baked two whole pies today let's go baker era i live alone idek what to do with em)

when you were hooking up rafe, every moment without him felt empty. like he completed you. that was partially what made you continue on with him for so long; you were worried that if he wasn't in your life, you'd constantly walk around with this hole in your chest, like a part of you was missing.

but you found that after you ended things, he wasn't the only thing on your mind all the time. sure, you missed him, but what you missed wasn't the sex, or even the almost-romantic part of your relationship, but his friendship. you missed the boy you told all your secrets to, the one who'd been your shoulder to cry on for as long as you could remember. but a part of you wasn't completely sure if that boy even existed anymore.

you knew that the boy who'd passed notes with you all throughout your middle school and high school years wouldn't do what he did to you. or the boy who let you stay at his house whenever your parents argued, and stay up with you trying to comfort you.

when you had been involved with him, you never told anyone; when your friends asked you where you always disappeared off to, you said you were just 'meeting up with a guy' and none of them really cared enough to pry, and only after did it end did you realize how shallow most of your friendships felt. none of them even noticed when you'd shut yourself away, or the fact that you started to distance yourself from everyone.

except for one.

one friday evening, the doorbell rang and you forced yourself to go open the door, only for it to reveal vivian, someone who you'd pretty much known since kindergarten, holding up two bottles of wine. "i'm not gonna leave before you tell me what's wrong with you." she said, and even though you knew she'd probably judge you for everything that went down, you also knew you couldn't hold onto it all.

and so the two of you ended up laying on your bed, drinking straight out of the bottle, with you recounting the whole story to her, without vivian interrupting you even once. and even though it was only one person, it made all the difference in the world.

"jesus, what a dick!" was the only thing he said when you were done, the two of you bursting into laughter.

but as time went by, you slowly started to miss him less and less, and as the marks he had littered all around your body started to fade, so did your longing for him.

sometimes you'd see him when you were out; it was mostly at the country club, or whenever one of your friends had convinced you to come to a party, and to let loose. but whenever you saw him, you never said a word to each other, you never even smiled. but for a brief moment, as you stared at one another across the room, it was as if it was just the two of you, lying on the floor of his living room, surrounded by beer bottles and used plastic cups, remnants of yet another party.

but as soon as one of you looked away, the moment faded away, like you two had never known each other. it was like he was never your first love.

and before you knew it, summer had come to an end, it had been three months since the night you ended things with him, the sky above you turning grey as you sat on the dock in front of your house with your feet in the cold water, when your phone started ringing, and for the first time in three months...

incoming call... rafe

and as you wondered what to do, a raindrop fell over the green circle displayed on your phone, as if telling you what to do, and so you took your phone into your hand, chewing on your bottom lip as you were thinking of whether to accept or decline.

to say that he wasn't good when it came to emotions and feelings would be an understatement when talking about rafe. most of the time the only thing he allowed himself to feel was anger, and so, when you walked out of the bathroom, the only thing he could do was stare at that locket, and even though he wanted to be angry, to start punching the bathroom sink until his hand broke, he couldn't. all he could do was stare at that damn locket, feeling like someone had punched all the air out of his lungs, like there just wasn't any anger left in him.

the day after you ended things with rafe, he broke up with sofia. for the next week the only thing he did was drink just to get the thoughts of you out of his head. for the week after that, all he did was think about you.

you needed your space, but he knew that every sunday you spent the afternoons playing tennis with one of your friends; so every sunday he'd drag his friends there on the premise of playing golf, just to get a glimpse of you; and unlike him, you looked fine, like nothing had ever happened between the two of you. he'd go out to any party he got wind of, just in case you showed up.

and whenever you noticed rafe's presence, when you looked straight at him, it was like the emptiness that had been in his chest since that night was slowly going away, like it was that night when you slept in his arms when he whispered "i love you." into your ear, hoping to god that you wouldn't hear, and now, the only thing he wished was for you to hear it even though he couldn't say it. but whenever you looked away from him, that emptiness came back.

rafe rarely drew anymore, not since he started working with his father, but now he found himself sketching images he had carved into his memory, ones of you sleeping in his bed, his sheets pulled up to cover your chest while your hair covered a good part of your face, ones with that look on your face when your face was flushed from alcohol when you were trying your hardest to find the words you were looking for when you were chattering about something you were passionate about.

and the next three months went in a cycle of drinking or throwing himself into the family business to forget about you, or finally giving in and thinking about you with that locket held in his large hand, and whenever he saw you, the more alright you seemed, and he kept wondering if that'd ever happen to him.

he was sitting in the office that formerly belonged to his father, his jaw clenched as he stared at your contact image, a picture of you petting a stray cat that lived around the island, obsessing over your contact something he'd been doing a lot lately, as if daring himself to call you. but before he could, he'd dropped his phone down onto the desk, rubbing his palms over his face with a deep sigh, telling himself to just focus on his work.

but rafe was drawn out of his thoughts of a familiar ringing, of one telling you that you were calling someone. and when he pulled his hands away from his eyes, they landed on his phone calling a familiar number.

and before he could hang up and pretend it never happened, the call was connected, and a soft voice on the other side simply said,

"rafe?"

[rekino2114]

You and makima as nayuta's parents

(Part 2 to this)

Pairing:makima x male reader/nayuta as your daughter

A/n: it's finally part 2! I love this au so much It's so adorable i genuinely love writing for it, feel free to request stuff for it too if you want

Summary:The people at your daughter's school don't believe who her mom is, so she decides to show them

You stood patiently as you heard the sound of the last bell ringing, followed by tens of tiny footsteps made by the children exiting the school in a orderly line, you waited until it was your daughter's class turn and looked for her, when you two finally spotted each other she told her teacher she saw you and sprinted to give you a hug.

"Daddy!"

You wrapped your hands around the short girl as she tried her best to do the same before you pulled back, putting her bag around your shoulder in the process,and held her small hand while starting to walk back home.

"How did your day go, yuta?"

"It was awesome, I did a really cool drawing and the teacher said it was the best of the class"

"That's great, I can't wait to see it"

"And-and then at recess we played hide and seek and no one could find me"

"Yeah you've already been the best at that game not even I can find you"

The half devil just giggled and continued to drag you faster to your home.

When you arrived there you started preparing snacks for her, after you finished, you found her in the living room watching cartoons while petting one of the dogs

"This is in case you get hungry ok?"

"Yay thanks"

You sat near her and watched her eat the snacks you gave her

"Hey daddy when is mommy coming home?"

"Oh you know, she's still working, she'll come pretty soon though"

"Oh......ok"

Your wife often got stuck working on paperwork at public safety headquartered (often because of some stupid stunt denji and power pulled), so she let you leave early to go pick up your daughter, nayuta knew this and she usually never complained about it so you were pretty surprised she asked

"Is something wrong? you usually never ask about mom"

".....mommy is like super important right?"

"Well she is the boss of the people who fight devils so yes. Super duper important why?"

While it was definitely true public safety still mainly fought strong devils, they were much much rarer and less powerful than they once were, the fact that an incredibly powerful and practically invincible horseman of apocalypse was now actively and happily helping humanity deterred the smarter ones from doing large scale attacks and as a result the public wasn't as scared of them in turn making them weaker,but to your daughter anyone who fought devils was cool and her mother triply so because she was the boss.

"Some jerks didn't believe me when I said that!"

"What?"

"Yeah they said stuff like "no way your mom is that important" or "you don't look rich" and "you look nothing like her! They're just some idiots"

You were very confused at the comments, especially the last one since nayuta literally had the same eyes as her mother but quickly pulled her into another hug to comfort her

"It's alright yuty, they're just wrong"

"Y-yeah"

"You know what, I think mom wouldn't be happy to hear what those people said about you. When she comes home, we'll tell her all about it, ok?"

"Yeah, and then she'll show them"

"Yeah, let's continue watching your show now ok?"

"OK I love you daddy"

"I love you too sweetie"

Not that long after you heard the door open and turned to see your beautiful wife

"I'm home"

You and nayuta immediately walked up to her. You hugged her, and you two shared a kiss

"I missed you dear"

"I did too"

She then turned to nayuta and started ruffling her black hair

"And how did my favorite girl do at school today?"

"It was great I did a super cool drawing"

"Oh really? Sounds great"

"But then someone told me that they didn't believe you're my mom"

"..............what?"

"Yeah they were all like "there's no way your mom is that important" they also told me I don't look rich and we look totally different"

"Ah, I see. Well, I guess it's to be expected after all y/n Is the one to pick you up, and I am quite an important figure in Japan, so skepticism is natural"

"But they're wrong and they don't get it, I'm tired of them treating me like a liar"

Makima pulled her daughter into her third hug of the day (she loves them a lot) to calm her down before coming up with something

"How about tomorrow I come back early and pick you up, then we'll show them who's wrong"

"*gasp* really? But don't you have some super important work to do?"

"It's just boring paperwork I'm sure someone else can take care of that, seeing my daughter smile is more important, I'll even let you leave early ok?"

"Thanks. You're the best mom ever"

[Timeskip]

The next day, nayuta was in her class listening to the teacher when a knock on the door caught her attention. When it was opened, she saw you and makima standing there

"*gasp* mommy,daddy!"

She immediately ran to you with a huge smile on her face, you grabbed her small body and lifted her over your shoulders giving her a piggyback ride

"You came!"

"Of course sweetie"

Nayuta stuck her tongue out at her classmates while enjoying seeing their bewildered and envious faces, so she decided to push her luck

"I'm really hungry can we get ice cream?"

"Of course, we can get all the ice cream you want"

The young girl smiled even brighter at that, especially because her classmates got even more jealous. You and makima were also pleased to see that as it meant that your daughter wouldn't get picked on again.

You went outside and started walking towards the ice cream shop

"They were so jealous! I bet tomorrow they'll be saying how cool how I am"

"That's because you are yuta, be careful though some of them may want to be your friend only because of your mom, choose your friends carefully"

"OK.......thanks"

"Don't thank us. By the way, if they start actually bullying you even more, please tell us, I only want to see you happy"

"Yeah.....You're the best parents ever, I love you so much mommy and daddy"

Makima felt a warmth in her heart at her daughter's words. She loved hearing that she loved her and considered her a good mom. It made all of the suffering she had felt worth it knowing that there were two people who she could love forever and who felt the same way towards her made her so happy, a feeling that only increased when you kissed her cheek and held her hand. Now that she could truly feel love, she was sure of three things: she loved you, she loved nayuta, and she loved this life.

[ghouldtime]

Ghost'ed

Been thinking about literal Ghost! Ghost. Maybe it's playing too many ghost hunting games or watching too many shows but I cannot stop thinking about it. You also cannot convince me this man wouldn't be a restless spirit. His entire life is troubled and I don't see him going down in a peaceful way or leaving until he feels the job is done - and likely ending up trapped as a result

I wrote this at work so sorry in advance for any typos or slip ups!

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Ghost hunting wasn’t exactly what most people would list in "Top ten relaxing hobbies" - but it's not like you were most people. You were simply you. The same you who thought spending your time speculating about spooky specters was one of the best ways to pass by those few stretches of free time that could be all too fleeting in the hellscape known as adulthood.

The stares that followed you when you announced paranormal investigation as a hobby was something you knew all too well. After all, telling someone you’re a ghost hunter only stood as a slightly more socially acceptable version of telling them you believed in bigfoot (you did, but that’s beside the point). The dozens of cheesy TV shows certainly popularized it but they did little to help with the perception of it.

When the face of popular ghost hunting media was full of grown men who screamed like a squirrel high on helium at every little thump of a house settling, it did little to help what people automatically thought of when they heard of your unique hobby. Plenty still turned their noses up, scoffed slightly as they rolled their eyes and sneered, “Aren’t you too old to be doing that?” 

Or worse. They gave a tight-lipped smile, nodded, and crinkled their eyes as they said, "Oh, interesting." While the tension in their body told of holding back laughter or wanting to bolt right on out of there, far far away from you.

Quite frankly, you didn't care what they said anymore as it was your life to live, not theirs. You’d seen enough to know without a fraction of a doubt that there was more beyond the veil of life itself, hiding just out of sight. The hundreds of hours you spent wandering dark hallways and dilapidated ruins with nothing but your flashlight and ghost box proved otherwise. At least it proved it to you.

Proving it to others was a horse of another color. Skeptics who spit their criticism loud enough to deafen even the most positive prevalent of voices in the community were a dime a dozen. Unfortunately, their existence was as certain as the sky is blue. Skepticism was apart of human nature, after all. They would always exist as long as the day and night kept up their eternal dance.

Convincing them was a fruitless effort. You'd sooner be able to convince hippos to fly than you'd convince them of the truth you knew. Trying to get everyone to agree, to acknowledge the paranormal, was hopeless and something you certainly weren't going to waste your life on no matter what they called your or what they said.

As far as you were concerned, being paid to sit in the dark alone and find evidence of life beyond the grimy waters of death itself was a pretty sweet gig. The naysayers could seethe in their own jealousy all they wanted because at the end of the day, you’re getting paid to do what you love. That they never could take away from you.

They'd never be able to have the same thrill that you did as you took on another case, ready to see even more of what the phantasmal realm had to offer.

Anticipation, nervousness, and excitement rolled together in a palpable energy you hid beneath a calmer exterior every time you took a job. There always would be that wonder there, the question of what exactly you might find dangling just out of reach, the hope that maybe, just maybe you might see even more than you already have. Another chance to investigate meant yet another night spent lurking in the shadows, tirelessly trying to find more evidence of the great world beyond the grave and its inhabitants. Tonight certainly would be no different.

An older couple quite reluctantly booked an appointment for a standard investigation after mysterious things that they really could not explain, no matter how they went about it, happened time and time again. They'd tried to ignore it, they said, but it only got worse.

Footsteps that echoed through the house at first in a gentle patter had become confident strides. When they went to look, no one was there. Doors that used to slowly creak open, as if blown by the wind, instead started to rattle the frame with force as they opened or slammed in the middle of the night. The husband looked particularly miffed when he groused about the TV going on at odd hours of the night, while his wife seemed more concerned about the possibility of someone having broken in and the fact that it kept doubling in intensity as time went on. The list went on and on about their complaints ranging from things being moved around to always finding a light turned on in a room in the middle of the night. There most certainly was something going on if all of what they were saying was true.

The glaring parade of red flags that easily would send others running for the hills lured you in. Like a dog with a scent, you weren't going to drop the trail, oh no. You were there to sink your teeth and claws in and not let go. Come hell, heaven, or high water - nothing would stopping you.

True to your title, you were a paranormal investigator which warranted a lot more work and professionalism than the standard ghost hunters you saw on TV who couldn't tell the difference between a gust of wind and a ghost. Your job was to research, conduct a proper paranormal investigation, and provide your evidence - or lack of, if it was truly devoid of haunting. But here hardly sounded like it.

Taking your time and reassuring them that you were, indeed, a professional, you went over all the usual questions with them: when did this start, how old is your house, any history of deaths in it, have you acquired any new items recently, do you have any items that were second hand or antique, any family heirlooms in the house, was it in any particular location, etc etc.

Every angle had to be considered, especially the mundane. Plenty of times, people just had a poorly constructed house, deeply held superstitions, and a touch of paranoia to make for a perfect combination of nothing happening at all. That didn’t seem to be the case here, however. While none of their answers pointed in a clear direction of what it might be, it still all pointed to signs of something unworldly happening. But that's what you were there for. To determine if there actually was a ghost, why it was there, and maybe who it was (if things went well and it felt like cooperating). 

You bid them a good night as they headed off with family friends in a beat up convertible, chattering away without a care in the world as if they didn’t have a paranormal parasite problem. At least they were going to go enjoy their night by having an evening out instead of breathing down your neck like some of those who hired you. Locking the door, you trudged in with your gear and began the initial inspection with practiced ease.

A haunting in a house as young and modern as theirs was quite unusual. Open, airy rooms completed with white, sleek, almost eye-hurtingly clean interiors made up the entirety of the house. Even as night crawled higher and higher into the sky, pulling its dark cloak over the land, the house stayed bright. Nothing about it said haunted or caught your eye. The scariest thing there was likely the heating bill. 

As far as your research showed, there hadn't been a death in it or on the land. The owners also seemed quite appalled at the idea of antiques (go figure) so that went right out the window, too. Normally there might be some stashed somewhere that they weren't thinking about, like the attic, but this house didn’t even have that. No basement, no attic, no creepy graveyard in the back; it was a normal, suburban house that shouldn’t have anything going on.

Perusing the house at a leisurely pace, you browsed each and every room with a thorough consciousness of finding something, anything, that could possibly have started it. Yet you turned up empty handed. Everything was as pure and alabaster as the marble countertops and the expensive sleek metal furniture. 

Oh well, not every job would be easy. And not every haunted house was obligated to look run-down and rustic. Some ghosts just had more upper class tastes - or were unfortunate enough to be stuck in an eyesore like this. Maybe a ghost would add some actual personality to their home...

Seeing as they'd said there wasn't exactly a rhyme or reason as to where things would happen, you decided a central room was your best bet. The living room was open enough for everything and an easy place any spirits could find. It had plenty of room for your equipment and the open layout meant you had a great vantage point for the whole house.

Preparing your gear came as naturally as breathing to you, the tasks you've done dozens of times over were a matter of habit. Moving through the motions was your second nature as you worked, not batting an eye as you checked batteries and strategically stationed your gear. It only took a matter of minutes to have your cameras, light system, motion activated interactable objects, ghost box, and the rest of your fancy gadgets set up all around the room.

Placed on the coffee table was your heaviest piece of equipment - your modified spirit box that you had made some special adjustments to just to make sure your results were as accurate as possible. The broken antenna and attached amp weren't standard, nor were the noise reducers, but they stood as a testament to why you were a professional and why you kept getting called out to different places. You knew how to get results and tuned every tiny thing to your needs. There was no room for error or doubt alike in an already uncertain field.

Double checking everything was ready to go once more once more, you plunged the room into somewhat true darkness as you drew the curtains shut and pressed the button on the spirit box, causing it to crackle to life. Speeding through the static of radio stations, it scanned the many frequencies in a blur, far too fast for any natural noise to come through. The whirring of it evened out into a constant, muffled background noise that you’d spent countless hours listening to. Its familiar hum lulled you into a relaxed state, your heart as steady as your calm breaths despite the slight buzz of familiar adrenaline you always felt when you first started. A small beep signaled the successful activation of the digital thermometer as you walked around in a slow, even pace, checking all around. 

Taking a deep breath, you began as you always had. In a confident, but even tone you called out, “Is there anyone with me right now?”

....

........

Silence.

The static of the spirit box continued to filter through in its usual constant churning hum of white noise. Typical. Many supernatural beings wouldn't want to interact, especially not at first. You don't blame them. If a stranger barged into your house and demanded if you were there, pestering you with questions as threw their belongings around, you'd not want to answer them either. That wasn’t even considering that many were so unused to people hearing them or trying to talk to them, not at them. They didn't exactly register on the same frequency that humans did most of the time.

Walking around the room, your boots echoed on the tile flooring. Your footsteps ricocheted off of the high ceilings, amplified by the lofty ceiling and wonderful acoustics this house apparently had. Keeping your attention ever shifting, you kept alert for signs of anything happening. Looking too long in the dark and expecting things to happen would only yield false results and cause paranoia. You knew far better than to do that. 

Nothing lit up, nothing beeped, nothing changed. There was conclusively nothing happening for the first few, long minutes as everything kept at an unwavering constant. Visiting each room, you rechecked their temperatures and tried to find anything amiss or out of place. Yet all seemed well, still, and normal.

Only when you crossed the hallway back into the living room after a quick visit to the bedrooms did your hair stand on end. A chill ran down your spine, the once warm air now holding the barest bite of cold on the edge. Holding up the thermometer, you narrowed your eyes at the steady decrease. While it wasn't quite freezing, it kept dropping and dropping. Numbers ticked lower and lower, your hair stood further on end as a small shiver ran through you as the chill dipped lower and lower. Bingo. First sign of activity of the night. It wasn’t much but it was plenty to know that something was happening here.

Despite the crisp chill, nothing else shifted in the room. Silence prevailed behind the distant drone of your equipment; mainly the comforting, steady typical static of the spirit box. Even the appliances seemed to have gone quiet, exchanging their usual low thrumming rhythm for a break that suspended them in a noiseless limbo.

Your shifting movements echoed far louder than you would have liked as you paced around the room, looking for something new, anything. An actual tangible reaction you could record would be just what you needed but so far, the haunt was holding out.  “What is your name?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as you can as you tried to switch it up. 

Continual feedback from the spirit box sounded as steady as can be. Still, there was no voice trying to get through it. The fabricated noise reigned supreme as it did its job, whirring away. Pressing your lips into a thin line, the smallest hint of a frown tugged at your lips as disappointment flickered through you. Okay, that's fine. It usually took a few tries anyways. 

A faint, sparkling crackle escaped from it as you heard one, tiny word in a rumbling timbre. One, single word that halted you mid step, your head snapping towards the machine. 

“Ghost.”

Doing a double take, a grin split across your face as your heart jumped with joy. A response! A true, actual response. Not that it exactly answered your question but it meant something was listening.

There was something here!

Nearly tripping over your own feet, you scampered over to your beloved machine. Your eyes fixated on the glowing orange screen, gleaming with glee. 

“W-what’s your name?” You repeat a bit louder unable to hide the excited tremble in your voice or hands, figuring the ghost likely didn't hear you right. 

Static white noise continued for a few seconds, the little x in the corner flashed once, twice, before it lit up solidly. 

“Ghost.”

The smile you held dropped only for a fraction of a second before you cleared your throat. Well, maybe your slight stutter and excitement got in the way. You did talk fast when excited, after all. Taking a deep breath, undeterred as can be, you repeated in a far steadier voice, “What is your name?”

This time you made sure to enunciate every single syllable, speaking clear and confidently into the air. 

One flashing X glowed in the corner of the screen. Another flash. A third. Fourth. Fifth.

Yet again, the deep voice came a bit louder and rougher this time. A thick Mancunian accent that barely picked up through the filter didn't dull the single word you were trying to avoid, “Ghost.”

Okay. Your brows furrowed deeper, your nose wrinkling slightly as your heart sank. The minor disappointment couldn't be kept off of your face as you really had hoped to hear something else. Approach one clearly isn't working. 

Maybe he didn't speak English. Or maybe he wasn't sure that he was dead. Whatever. There was a ghost and he was answering, that's what mattered, you reminded yourself forcefully until the smile came back to your face and the smallest bit of a headache dissipated. Focus on that. Not on the slight annoyance you felt and the agitated twitch of your fingers.

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. Your grip retightened on your flashlight as you racked through questions in your mind, trying to find something that it would have to answer differently too. 

“Can you do something?”

Hopeful, your eyes trailed around the room, praying that maybe the ghost would do something like interact with the many objects scattered about, or even the motion sensors. 

Nothing happened for a few long moments, silence once again prevailing in the otherwise empty house.

Orange light flashed from the spirit box as the X lit up again, only for a second before the dreaded word repeated itself. 

“Ghost.”

Before you could ask what that even meant, or curse it out for that matter, the spirit box and your flashlight shut off, plunging you into true darkness. The flashlight nearly flew from your hands in surprise as you flinched instinctually, your heart leaping into your throat. Frantically flickering the button of your trusty tool did nothing as you desperately tried to turn on your one source of light with the only way you knew how - only to be met with the continual sight of empty, non-shining bulbs. 

Curses spilled from your lips in all the languages you knew as you fumbled for a battery pack, only to find them missing. What? But you swore that they were right there -- ugh, nevermind. This just wasn't going to be your night.

The initial panic subsided as the chill left the air, the residual regular warmth of the house sinking into the room as if blown in by a lazy breeze. Your hair still stood on end as you walked around with cautious, hesitant steps, having given up on the flashlight. There wasn't coming back from that.

It's only when you approached the spirit box, trying to turn it on to no avail, that you realized what he meant. You asked him to do something and he obliged.

He ghosted you. 

God fucking damn it. 

As you glared at the air in frustration, threw your hands up and personally cursed the fiend, you could've sworn you heard a resonating chuckle behind you as breath brushed against the nape of your neck in a way that sent shivers down your spine for a whole new reason.

[stanpinesdykewife]

something really really self-indulgent because september makes me mentally ill. this is mostly just for me but figured i'd post it anyway :) enjoy

birthday month

stan/reader (enby)

pre/during/post-canon/unspecified

fluff, 1423 words

“You got me flowers?” you ask, equal parts excited and confused. It's the first thing you say when you open your front door to Stan, the sweetheart, holding a bouquet of bright, gorgeous flowers in front of his chest. You're smiling, a surprised laugh spilling out of you as red crawls up Stan's shy expression. “Stan, what's this for?”

“What, I can't give my favorite person some flowers?” The flush on his cheeks, the awkward way Stan rubs the back of his neck with one hand, betrays the gruffness of his voice. He shoves the bouquet closer to you and you take it with a careful grip, immediately bringing the flowers to your face to smell them. “They're because I like you. How's that?”

“That's a good reason,” you chuckle, stepping back and nodding towards your apartment. “Come in. I have a vase lying around, I think. Thank you, really, you just made my whole day.”

“Mission accomplished,” Stan says, like a dork, and you laugh as you lead him inside.

The next week, he's at your door again. You bark out a laugh when you open it to a familiar sight: Stan, with pink cheeks and a shy smile, holding a bouquet close to his chest. This time, he has a box of chocolates tucked under his arm.

“Another one?” you ask, accepting the flowers when he gives them to you. You give them a whiff, sighing softly at the fresh scent. “Okay, what's this one for?”

“I still like you. Congratulations,” Stan says proudly, showing off the chocolates. They're your favorite kind. You laugh again, your face warm. You step aside to let him in and he accepts the invite, touching lightly at your bicep as he passes by.

“I'm honored,” you say, and reach up just in time to grab his elbow and turn him around. You press a kiss to his chin when he does, smiling at the way he blinks at you afterward, taken aback, like you haven't been dating for as long as you have. “Thank you, Stan.”

“Don't mention it,” he says, his grin crooked, and he grabs your hand without looking to tug you into your own living room. “Come on, these sweets aren't gonna eat themselves.”

“You're sweet,” you say back, teasing, and Stan laughs loud at that, but even from behind him you can see the tips of his ears turn pink.

The next week, you're still surprised. But now you're a little suspicious.

“Okay,” you say slowly, hesitant in accepting Stan's third bouquet. He has a six-pack of your favorite beer in his other hand, and your tone makes him tense. He shifts awkwardly in place. “Now I'm starting to think you’re pulling a long con. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Stan says, a little too quick to be believable, and you raise a brow in doubt. But you smell the flowers, and a smile crawls onto your face despite yourself. Stan continues, more casual this time, “Just thought I would spoil you. Is it wrong for a man to spoil the love of his life?”

You know the sentiment is strategic, meant to lower your guard and get you gushing over him instead of prying for an answer. But you chuckle anyway, effectively wooed, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“Seriously. This isn't gonna be a long-term thing, is it? Bouquets like this are expensive, I know that much. I really appreciate it, but…” You trail off. Stan rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

“Uh… well, it was supposed to be a secret. On the low, y’know,” he admits. You perk up—You love knowing secrets.

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” you say, smiling. But Stan doesn't smile with you. He stares at a spot on your doorframe, his mouth screwing up in thought. When he doesn't answer, you laugh nervously. “Stan?”

“Listen, I, uh… I know it's your birthday month,” he starts, and your smile falls. Stan notices and immediately holds his hands out in front of him, placating. “But, but! I also know you don’t celebrate. I wouldn't spring a surprise on you even if I knew the date, which I don't, but… I dunno. I wanted to do somethin’ nice for you anyway. To show you I care about you, or whatever. You know.”

You do know. Stan's brown eyes are earnest and open, almost pleading, hoping you'll understand. You stare at him for a few moments, mouth parted, your grip tight on the bouquet and crinkling the nice wrapping paper holding it together. Your birthday month isn't exactly top-secret, but you didn't expect Stan to… You can't believe he…

“That's… really nice of you,” you say quietly, something tightening in your chest, something raw and emotional rearing its head behind your sternum. You're a little mortified, and you hate celebrating your birthday for a reason, and the intense, all-encompassing, fluttery feeling in your chest isn't funny at all. But it forces a giggle out of you, more flustered than anything else. Stan perks up at the sound. You think for another moment, but the look on Stan's face makes you come to a quick decision. Hesitantly, you assure him, “I'm not upset. This was a really sweet idea. Thank you.”

“Really?” he asks, and he looks so earnest and kind and warm that you can't help yourself from stepping forward and hugging him, pressing the side of your face into his broad chest. You're definitely crushing the bouquet against his spine, but evidently, neither of you care too much. Stan's arms come around you immediately, the six-pack digging into your lower back. He chuckles, leaning his cheek on the top of your head. “Heh. Glad it turned out okay.”

“Only because I like you so much,” you say, squeezing him tighter for another moment before pulling away. Stan lets up on the hug, but only enough to see your face. You don't know when you started smiling again, but you are. Stan registers it for less than a second before beaming at you, self-assured and affectionate, and that feeling in your chest only gets stronger. You don't know how to put it into words, but you try. With your hand not holding the flowers, you cup his face, keeping his gaze. You try by saying, “Thank you. Really. This… You mean a lot to me.”

If there's one thing Stan can't take, it's a genuine compliment. He laughs awkwardly, breaking eye contact, looking above your head somewhere. You let him, grinning as he shrugs and waves his free hand around as if to dispel the heat coming off his face.

“Yeah, yeah, well—It’s nothin’, really, it's not a big deal,” Stan rambles as your hand drops from his face to rest on his chest. “It took zero effort. Negative effort, in fact. Actually, I paid a guy to come up with the idea for me.” You laugh at the excuse, and suddenly all seriousness has left the air around you two.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I should be thanking him,” you tease, leaning up, closer to his face. Stan finally looks back at you, his eyes flickering to your mouth. “How much?”

“For you? Forty bucks,” Stan says, a smile tugging at his lips. You laugh again, right in his face, and he acquiesces, “Okay, okay! Twenty.”

“I'll give you a kiss and a beer, on me,” you say, reaching behind yourself to grab the six-pack from his hand. Stan's grin is wide and toothy, and with both hands free, he places them on your waist.

“Deal,” he says, and before he goes in for the kiss, you take a mental snapshot: Stan, smiling, a fading flush on his face, framed by beer and flowers. Emotion wells up deep inside you, too-warm and overwhelming. You imagine your heartstrings knotted together, tangled tightly in an overheated mess of affection in your chest. You don't know how else to describe it.

Stan kisses you then, and you melt into him, hooking an arm around his neck as his hands slide around your waist. The bouquet is held tightly in your hand, the wrapper crinkling further behind Stan's head. You're sure some flower petals have fallen off, landing gently on his big broad shoulders, getting caught in the soft gray of his hair. You don't pull away to check. Instead, you sigh, content, into the plush of Stan's lips, under the slow glide of his wandering hands.

The feeling doesn’t go away. Whatever it is, it's good.

[ripdragonbeans]

Not Him, I Swear // Modern!Aegon x Reader // Pt. 3

Summary: You go on your second date with Aegon and it ends up being much more fun that you anticipated.

CW: afab reader, profanity, eventual smut, Aegon being an ass, oh but he has feelings??????

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The next few days were filled with cute texts and fluffy dates. Aegon respected your wishes and didn't push you to go any further than a make out session. It drove you crazy; you wanted him but you were scared. As much as you wanted to forget all the pain Jason caused you, it was something that stayed. It tainted your views of love, something that can be hard to make new. 

Aegon seemed too good to be true.

But you swallowed your fears and pushed on with your relationship with him. 

“Hey, man!” Cregan strolled into the room. “How's our bet going? Is she begging for you yet?” He plopped himself down next to Aegon and put his feet on the table.

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he murmured. “No, she's not begging yet, but I'll get there.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Gods, I almost feel bad.”

Cregan’s eyebrow rose. “Bad? Don't tell me that my best friend is actually catching feelings for someone.”

“No, I'm not catching feelings for anyone.” Aegon got up to grab another beer; his third one already, and it was barely noon.

“The way you talk about her says differently.”

“I haven't talked about her.”

“Not obviously, of course. At any mention of the bet or anything, you tense up. Something’s going on in that head.”

“Whatever, Cregan,” Aegon muttered. “Since you're so focused on annoying me, I'm gonna go to my room.” He gave his friend a mocking wave before leaving the living room to his own.

He put his head in his hands and let out a groan. He couldn't be catching feelings, he shouldn't be falling for her. But he is. 

The way she smiles. The way her eyes light up. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear. It's like looking into a bright light and being engulfed in its warmth. 

But he had to do this. He needed to prove that he could have anyone he wanted. If not to himself, then to his friend. As shallow as it was, he wanted to follow through. He hoped she wouldn't hate him in the end. 

“Hel, I really can't believe it,” you gushed. “I know you said not to get too involved with him but he's already so much better than Jason!” 

You plopped down on the couch, closed your eyes, and stretched. The wonderful feeling of being loved say well inside your heart. Despite the aching fears and the anxiety that comes along after being cheated on, the feeling of being loved triumphed ever just a tiny bit. 

“I wouldn't go ahead and say that, bestie. Please, be on your guard. You know all the stories, all the rumors, and I can even testify for some of them.” Helaena held your hands and looked you in the eye. “Be careful, please.”

A voice came from the hallway. “Yeah, what she said.” Jace walked over to the two of you sitting on the couch. He wore a grim expression on his face. “I don't mean to hurt you but I've heard that he's just trying to get you to sleep with him, all for some bet.”

Your heart sank at the thought but you pushed it aside.

“Very funny, Jace,” you said. “But I don't need that negativity in my life.”

“It's not negativity if it's true.” He looked at you with pity in his eyes. 

You shook off the expression and took a deep breath. “Why can't you two just be happy for me?” 

Helaena squeezed the hand she was holding. “We're happy for you, we just want you to be careful. We hate to see you hurt.”

“It's a risk, isn't it? All relationships are. I know Aegon and I will either end up together forever or eventually break up. It's up to us, not you two, but me and Aegon, how bad that ending will be.”

Helaena huffed. “Okay, I'll drop it. For now.”

You smiled at her. “Thank you.” You turned to address both Jace and Helaena. “Now, would you two like to know what's happening next?”

“As hesitant as I am, yes,” Helaena said. 

Jace nodded his head in agreement.

You pulled out your phone to read the text messages between you and Aegon.

“Our next date is a movie!” You announced.

There was a beat of silence before Jace broke it. “A movie? Isn't that a little cliche?”

You frowned at him. “Shut up, it's something.”

“What movie are you guys gonna catch?” Helaena cut in. 

“Oh! Um…” you bowed your head in embarrassment and mumbled your answer.

“I'm sorry? What was that?” Jace leaned in. A knowing smirk graced his lips.

You mumbled your answer again, but a little louder.

“Bestie, I still can't hear you!” 

“Shrek 2.” 

You look up in shame. The judgment you feel from them was too much.

“...I'm sorry, did you just say Shrek 2?” Clarified Jace.

“It's the best one!”

Helena laughed. “Considering it's you and Aegon, it makes sense. Weird choice, but yeah.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, time to get you date ready!”

“‘Date ready?’ Hel, I’ve got five hours until I have to leave. I have time.”

“For what I have planned for you? Nope, five hours is just enough time for me and Jace to get you set.”

Jace froze hearing his name. “Me? What do I have to do?”

“Shut up, you're moral support,” Helaena rolled her eyes in amusement. “Now, let's go.”

Helaena offered you her hand but you hesitated slightly. What if this is just a plot to convince you to not go? But when you looked at your friends all you could see was the love they had for you.

“Alright, let's get this started,” you smiled.

Four hours later had you sitting in a chair with your back straight and a mirror behind you. 

“Annnnnd done!” Helaena turned your chair around so you could see yourself.

You took in the image, your hair all done nicely, your facial features enhanced, all of it. You couldn't help the smile that made its way.

“Helaena,” you started, “my gods, you did an amazing job!” 

You turned toward Jace, who was sitting on the arm of the couch. 

“Yeah,” he said between handfuls of chips, “you look great. Aegon is gonna shit himself.” 

“I don't know about that,” you rolled your eyes. “He's been with a shit ton of other girls before me, I doubt I'm the prettiest.”

A hand smacked your head. 

“No. You're the hottest he's ever been with and will only be with for the rest of your lives.”

“Wow, and I thought you were dead set on me not being with him.”

“Only to protect you! But,” she sighed, “if this is how it goes then he better not break your heart. He does that. I'll chop up his dick in his sleep.”

“Yeah, and I'll fuck up his face,” Jace added.

You laughed at your friends, your heart full. “You two are so extra.”

“It's called being best friends,” Jace said as he joined you and Helaena at the mirror. 

Looking at the three of you, you thought of all the trials you've been through. All the heartbreak, the laughs, the highs and the lows. Without them who knows what you would be like. You interlocked your hands with both of them and leaned back.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you guys, but I'm grateful for you two and love you.”

Beep beep!

The sound of the honking car was quickly followed by a text. You picked up your phone and couldn't stop the smile. Of course Aegon would do this. As you readied yourself to leave the apartment, you did one last look in the mirror. 

You were happy with how you looked; all dolled up for the date. Just enough to be enticing but not so much in your face. With a pep in your step, you made your way to the front door. 

Aegon’s eyes went wide when he saw you. “You look…”

You nodded for him to continue.

“Amazing. You look amazing.” Aegon flashed you a big smile.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” you replied as you got in the car.

Aegon’s car was messy but it could be a lot worse. Luckily the trash wasn't food trash but rather random papers and receipts that were strewn across the floor and the back seat. It also smelled vaguely of weed.

“You smoke?” You asked him.

Aegon pulled out of the driveway. “Yeah, and I vape every now and then if I want a flavor or something. You?” 

“I've been curious about it but no, I haven't done either.”

“Wanna try? We can pull over and I can roll you a joint.”

A smile crept onto your face. There were butterflies in your stomach but you were excited to take the plunge.

Once Aegon pulled over into an unmarked parking lot, he pulled out the weed, the paper, and lighter. He was careful to roll the joint nicely for you. Once he finished he looked at his work and gave you a smile. “Ta-da! One joint rolled for my kitten.”

“Okay, cool. I can do this.” You told yourself.

Aegon looked at you with concern. “You don't have to smoke if you don't want to.”

“No, but I really want to.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head. “I'll light it. Then all you have to do is inhale through your mouth, hold it for a bit then exhale through your mouth. Simple.”

“Simple. Right.”

“Okay, here we go.”

Aegon lit it then brought the joint up to your mouth. You gently wrapped your lips around the tip and you did as he said. 

Inhale.

You felt the smoke fill your mouth.

Hold.

You let it sit and go down your throat.

Exhale.

A puff of smoke flew out of your mouth.

As a calming sensation sprinkled through your body you have Aegon a relaxed smile.

“You feeling okay?” Aegon asked you 

You laughed a bit. “Yeah, I feel good.”

Aegon took a drag from the joint himself. “Wanna get high before we watch the movie?”

“Hell yeah.”

Before heading off to the movie theater, you and Aegon shared the joint. It didn't take long for you to get high but Aegon finished it off. He was careful not to get higher than just having a buzz since he was driving. The rest of the ride was filled with you babbling about everything and nothing. Aegon smiled and let you go on. 

Arriving at the theater, you let out a little giggle. “I'm so excited for this, Aegon.” You slurred his name.

“Yeah.” He couldn't stop himself from smiling at you. Getting out of the car, he circled around to open the passenger door. “Time to get out, kitten.”

You giggled again. “I like that you call me kitten. It's cute and it kinda turns me on.”

Aegon gulped down a breath. “That's great; time to see the movie.”

Letting go of Aegon’s hand, you put both of yours on his chest. “I wanna be with you.”

He pushed your hands down and kept them firmly in his. Aegon looked you in the eye. “And we will but not like this. I want you to be sober when I take you.”

You huffed. “Okay.”

Finally getting you to step out of the car, Aegon went back to only holding one hand as he led you through the parking lot and into the theater.

“Mmm I want popcorn and an Icee,” you said as soon as you walked in. The smell of popcorn immediately surrounded you.

“I'll get you popcorn and a water,” Aegon said.

You stamped your foot. “But I want an Icee!”

He tugged on your hand to get you to look at him. “Kitten, you need water. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Another giggle escaped you.

After buying popcorn and water, Aegon led the way to your numbered theater to watch Shrek 2. At first you wanted to sit up front but he pulled you away to the rows in the back.

“No one needs to know you're high,” he said as you made your way up the stairs. 

“But you know I'm high,” you observed.

“I'm the one that got you high, kitten.”

“Oh, yeah.”

As you sat down in your chair, all you could think about was getting as close to Aegon as possible. Thankfully, these were the newer, fancier theater chairs. You reclined your chair and moved the armrest out of the way so you could lean on Aegon.

“You and popcorn,” you said as you snuggled up to him. “The best combination ever.”

“Don't forget Shrek.”

“And Shrek.”

Aegon kissed the top of your head as the lights went down and the movie began.

While Shrek 2 was already one of the funniest moments of all time, watching it high made it even funnier.

“Prince Charming looks like Jason,” you whispered, eyes wide. “I bet his dick is small like Jason’s, too.”

Aegon choked on his water. He stole a look at you but all he saw was a girl high as fuck while watching Shrek 2. Gods, he wanted to kiss you then and there.

The movie continued with your constant one liners about how everything in Shrek related to something or someone in your life. Somehow you were Shrek, Fiona was Aegon (which he was happy about), Donkey was Helaena, and Puss in Boots was Jace. To you, it all made sense. To Aegon, it was simply blabbering that entertained him.

As the credits rolled on the screen, you lolled your head against Aegon’s shoulder once again. “I’m tired, Aeg.”

“You’re coming down from your high, kitten,” he assured you. “Time to get up and head home.”

“I don’t wanna move.” You slunk down in your seat.

Aegon laughed. “They’re gonna kick us out anyway if you don’t get up. What if I helped you?”

You held out both arms. “Yes, please.”

Aegon moved to stand in front of you to pull you up. Instead of letting go, however, he tucked you into his side. Together, you made your way out of the movie theater.

“Can we go to your place?” you asked him as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“No, I’m going to drop you off at my sister’s.”

All of a sudden you wanted to cry. “Why? Do you not like me?”

“That’s not it. You’re high and I’m going to take care of you.”

Your mood instantly switched. “I’d love for you to take care of me.” Heat began pooling in your belly while you placed a hand on his thigh.

Reluctantly, Aegon moved your hand off of him. “Not like that. I’m going to be responsible this one time and take you back to Helaena’s.”

“Come on, be irrisp, irrrrsp, irrisponble this one time.”

“If you want to be in my bed you’re going to have to be sober, kitten.”

You crossed your arms. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

“I know, what a bore.” He turned into the driveway. “Time to go.” He walked over to your side to open the door and walk you to the front. “I loved tonight.”

“I love you too, Aegon,” you yawned.

Aegon stopped, stunned. “I think you mean you loved tonight.”

You hummed. “No, I love you.”

He nodded his head, mouth slightly agape, as he took you Helaena’s room. When he knocked on the door Helaena popped out.

Her eyes instantly went to you, leaning all your weight on Aegon. “What did you do?!”

Aegon shrugged. “She wanted to get high so I let her. I only got buzzed but she is definitely high.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“It’s loud,” you moaned. “And bright.”

“Gods, get her in here.” Helaena motioned for Aegon to bring you into the room.

Immediately, you went for the bed and flopped down. Aegon was careful as he tucked you in. Helanea watched in awe of how sweet he was being to you. As soon as you drifted off to sleep, Helaena took Aegon into the hallway to talk.

“Have you been like this all night?” she questioned.

“You mean like the wonderful gentleman I am? Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you being so kind to her?”

He shrugged. “What can I say, Hel. I like her.”

“No, when you like girls you just charm them and then fuck them. This is the second date you’ve gone on with her. Something is up.”

Aegon ran his hand down his face. “Let me do this, just once, let me be the good guy.”

Helaena looked at him warily. “Fine. But if you do anything to hurt her, I will personally destroy your life.”

[queerprayers]

I’m unemployed dropped out of school before I reached high school and am unbaptised. Does God care about someone like that

Welcome, beloved, to the blog of a high school dropout who walks dogs (but has never actually been employed anywhere), and was baptized as a baby and so did not have any choice in the matter! God cares about both of us, and has given us ways to serve Them in our own lives, as we are now.

Your employment status can obviously matter quite a bit in terms of survival, because of the world we live in, but itself has no bearing on your relationship with God. Whatever the reason you don't have a job, you have a life worthy of care, from those around you and from God. Being employed has never been a Christian focus--devoting your life to God has. Capitalism has changed so much, but please know that the ways the system (and those misled by it) shames you do not reflect the will of God. No human system can decide your worth.

Your level of education, similarly, doesn't say anything about you that God cares about. I dropped out of school for health reasons--whatever yours are, even if you don't feel they're good, whatever! High school was invented like 200 years ago, and has nothing to do with God's care for you. Education is holy--reading, talking to different kinds of people, learning about history and the natural world, thinking about God. This knowledge is in schools but it's also everywhere else. I'm not telling everyone reading this to drop out of high school, but I am saying that there are so many beautiful paths without it. I would also point out that in many places, there is support for people who left schooling early--my city, for instance, has free GED (high school equivalency diploma) programs. If that's something you want to change (of your own volition, not because God will care about you any differently), it's very possible that you can.

Baptism is the most easily changed thing on this list, if you seek it. Most churches require some discussion beforehand, maybe a class to learn about the denomination, but there aren't huge barriers (and there is no test of worthiness). If it's not in your future, for whatever reason, I can still tell you God cares about you, fully, as you are. Baptism is lots of things for lots of people--a symbol, a physical manifestation of grace, a welcoming into a Christian community, a sealing of a covenant--but it has never been the first moment of care from God. That has already passed--it was the first moment you existed. To say you need to be baptized for God to care about you is to say that God doesn't care about anyone from any other religion, or about those who die before baptism--what a sad life that would be. What a limiting belief.

I don't know you, but I have faith you treat others well. I have faith you wouldn't tell me God didn't care about me because of my job or schooling. So don't do that to yourself. I hate to break it to you, but you have no say in the matter. It doesn't matter how worthy you are, or how much you're succeeding by our current society's standards. God is love, a love which keeps no record of wrongs, a love which does not weigh with the measures of this world, a love which cannot be contained in the rituals of an institutional church, a love which does not require knowledge or action or belief to surround us. We are saved by this love, not by a diploma or paycheck or a pastor's words.

Go in peace, beloved. Glorify God with your life, not with someone else's. And anyone who tells you that there are limits on God's care is not talking about the God of the Bible--who works through the underdog, who turns any idea of worthiness on its head, who picks the younger son and the tax collector, the unwed mother and the poor father. God comes to where we are, and takes us by the hand.

<3 Johanna

[thlayli-ra]

Prompt:

Punkintyre fucking in Cody's dressing room since they nearly got caught it the hallway (maybe it's the day before or of a ppv) and Cody is never in his dressing room. Drew and Punk trying to stay quiet, and they manage to not attract attention despite their activities, until Cody and Roman (Or Randy if you prefer Candy) walk in clearly about to use Cody's dressing room for the exact same thing as Punkintyre.

(I personally think Roman would be funnier since Drew/Punk could get all pissy about Cody banging him:

Punkintyre: ROMAN?? SERCOISLY?! HE'S THE WORST! YOU CAN'T BANG SOMEONE WHO YOU FOUGHT AT WRESTLEMAINA, WHO ATTACKS YOU, WHO INTERFEARS IN YOUR MATCHES?!

CodyRoman: :/

I just think they're funny)

Anyway, love your writing/Art, keep up the great work! I hope you enjoy their Hell In A Cell match <3

Whelp! The same day I tell my brain not to get distracted, I get this amazing prompt and immediately get distracted 😅

I've written Dead Dove Punkintyre, heart-warming hurt/comfort Punkintyre - now it's time to get a little silly with these two. **Warning** - Punk being the ultimate little shit incoming...

Rating - Mature (18+)

Words - ~3k words

'Were you under the ring the whole fucking time?'

Punk blinked up innocently at Drew who was looking more than a little hot and flustered. 'The signal aint great,' he replied with a cute shrug as he held up his phone, pointing to the app that was currently open on the screen. 'I had to be close by for it to work.'

'You mean, you wanted to be close by,' Drew shot back, seeing right through the tattooed man's lies, 'so that you could listen in while you tormented me.'

'And you did so well,' Punk cooed. 'Nobody would have a clue.'

'Please, please tell me you didn't go live on Instagram this time?'

'I didn't, I swear,' Punk put up his hands before muttering under his breath, 'stupid apps wouldn't let me use them at the same time.'

All of a sudden, Drew's entire face scrunched up and he nearly collapsed in on himself. Quickly, he put his meaty arm against the wall for support.

'Oh?' Punk tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk rising up one cheek. 'You feeling ok there, Big Boy?'

Drew grunted a blasphemy in reply. 'Turn it down.'

'Turn what down?' Punk bent low in order to see the harrowing expression on Drew's face.

'The thing! The damn thing!' Drew pleaded, screwing his eyes shut.

'Turn the damn thing down, what?'

'Fuck you! FUCK YOU!'

'Tut tut,' Punk shook his head and looked back at his phone. 'You know what happens when you disrespect Daddy?'

Drew's brow shot up when he saw Punk's finger slide up the screen. 'NO! WAIT! GAARRRGGHH!' The large Scot fell against the wall, needing both hands to hold himself upright.

'Damn!' Punk's huge green eyes glistened impishly and he practically giggled with glee. He could actually hear the damn thing vibrating like crazy in Drew's trunks. 'It sure packs a punch, huh?'

'TURN IT DOWN! PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF THE WEE MAN! TURN IT DOWN OR I'M GOING TO-'

'Shhh!' Punk scolded the Scot, glancing around him. 'You want the entire backstage to hear you?'

'GAH! FUCK! FUUUUU-'

'Dammit!' Punk grabbed Drew by his large shoulders and shoved him down the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears. Heading the first door they passed, he looked inside and found the small locker room empty. 'Here, get in.' Pushing the writhing Scot inside, Punk pulled the door shut. Now that they were safely hidden away, he could focus on torturing his victim even more. 'You can't take a little teasing, you big baby?'

'YOU HAVE THAT THING TURNED ALL THE WAY UP! DON'T YOU?!'

"Don't be dramatic,' Punk scoffed. 'Of course I don't have- oh, wait, yeah I do. Whoops!' He used his finger to slide the curser on his screen down, but only by a tiny margin. Just enough for Drew to stop yelling but still enough to keep his breath coming in those juicy little gasps. 'That better?'

'You little shitebag,' Drew cursed through his gritted teeth.

'What happened to all that self-control in the ring out there?' Punk asked, sidling up to the Scot who was soaked through with sweat, and not just from the exertions of his match. 'Is it cause I'm here now?'

'You wish that- hrrfff!' Drew's words were savagely cut off by Punk's hand grabbing the front of his trunks, fingers curling tightly around his rock-hard cock and balls...

..and the solid silicone ring around the base of his dick!

'Ooh, there it is!' Punk's eyes lit up with mischief. Using his thumb, he slid the curser up and down so that he could feel the difference in vibrations, grinning from ear to ear as Drew's whimpering kicked up into desperate whines and back down again, allowing the suffering Scot to steady his senses for a few seconds. Before jamming it all the way back up again.

'FUCK! FUCK! FU-'

Punk felt a throbbing down south and couldn't resist anymore. Grabbing Drew by the back of his head, he yanked him down to his height and muffled his howls by shoving his tongue into his open mouth. He hummed joyfully as he invaded the warm cavity, giving Drew some vibrations above to match the ones below, and entangled his inked fingers in his wet hair.

A rumble tingled Punk's lips, not from his own throat but from Drew's. He had finally awoken the Scot's inner beast! Large hands grabbed him by the thighs, lifting him clean off his feet and he was slammed against the wall. Drew thrusted his aching groin between Punk's legs, the vibrations of his cock ring now shuddering through the denim of Punk's jeans to excite his own dick.

'Shhhhhhhiiiitttt,' Punk choked out, the strength of the sensation between his legs almost blinding.

'How'd you like that, ye wee prick!' Drew snarled in Punk's ear, ruthlessly pinning the smaller man's groin with his own.

Inked fingers clawed at Drew's naked shoulder blades, ragged nails digging in as the fierce convulsions pulsed through them both. Overcome with animalistic desire, Drew began to dry-hump the older man, growling at every distressed yelp from his trapped victim.

Until-

'What was that?' Punk lifted his head, eyes wide and ears pricked. Drew hadn't noticed and was still grinding his hips against him. 'Drew! Stop! Someone's coming!'

The Scot finally paused. In the silence, they both heard voices right outside the door.

'Shit!' Punk swore as the handle to the door began to turn. He wriggled free from Drew's grasp. 'In here. Quick, you idiot!' Grabbing Drew by the wrist, he pulled him towards a closet in the corner and managed to squeeze them both in right before the door opened. The two men held their breaths as the voices became clearer, drawing closer.

'I meant what I said,' the first voice said, footsteps stomping into the room, 'I'm done with the Bloodline.'

Inside the closet, Punk gulped loudly. He knew that voice. It was Cody Rhodes! And going purely by the sound of the hefty footsteps following him, he was most likely with his work husband, Randy Orton. Or maybe Kevin Owens?

'So you keep sayin',' a deep, rich voice answered, 'but I'm not buyin' it. Nobody is!'

Punk's jaw just about dropped to the floor. That wasn't Orton. Or Owens.

It was Roman fucking Reigns!

'I don't care what anybody thinks,' Cody snapped back. 'I have been fighting the Bloodline in one variation or another since I returned to the WWE. I've watched them hurt the people I care about, I've endured all the punishment they've inflicted on me, that you inflicted on me. I have bled because of you and your family.'

There was a pause. Tension filled the air so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Punk imagined the two men were standing chest-to-chest and feverishly wished there was a slit or keyhole or something in this closet door he could peep through to watch the action. Instead all he had was a six foot five, quivering Scotsman jamming all four giant limbs into him.

'Can you just-' he hissed at Drew but clammed shut when Cody started talking again. Low this time, quiet. Oh, it was getting serious. Punk pressed his left ear against the door - his bad ear but it would have to do - to hear what he had to say.

'Far as I'm aware, I beat Solo Sikoa in Berlin. I beat the Tribal Chief-'

'He is not the Tribal Chief! He may wear the Ula Fala but that man is an imposter!'

'That's your problem, not mine!'

'You are the WWE Champion!' Roman lets his words hang in the air. 'When you won that belt from me, you made a promise to change the WWE for the better. To lead us all-'

'You were the one who made the mess in the first place.'

'I know...' Roman's voice turned small. Defeated. 'I just... want to fix it.'

Punk pressed his ear tighter against the door. Damn his partial deafness! And Drew wasn't helping with his constant whimpering. Two large fingers tugged at his sleeveless shirt, trying to pry his attention away from the other men outside. 'Get off,' he scolded Drew.

The Scotsman gave a pathetic whine.

'Shush!'

'P-Puuuunk!'

'Shut up! Or else they'll hear you.'

There was a long, drawn out silence, a shuffling of feet. By the time Cody spoke again, his tone has softened. 'You have your chance to fix it now. You're back! Go, take down the Bloodline. For good.'

'But, I can't do this alone,' a squeak of a sneaker. Punk guessed that Roman had stepped closer to Cody. 'I've never done anything on my own. Please, Cody. I need you!'

'Puuuuunk.'

'Will you just shut the fuck up!'

God he wished he could see. He was certain that Roman had his arm out, hand cupping Cody's blushing cheek. He knew that sweet sight well. Punk always loved how his pink cheeks contrasted beautifully with his platinum blonde hair.

Cody heaved a sigh. There was a slight shake to it, like he had been caught off-guard. Punk licked his dry lips and used all of his energy to focus. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' he said finally. 'Right?'

'Right,' Roman replied, his tone warmer, like he was smiling. 'Anyway, you remember how it was when we feuded. We were good together.'

'We were good together,' the champion had turned a little hoarse. Just exactly how close was Reigns to him right at that second? Punk was dying to know!

Another tug at his shirt. 'Puuuunk. Pleeeasseeee!'

'I swear to Jeebus, if you say one more word, I'm gonna- woah!' Punk had finally turned around to look at Drew and was shocked to see the scarlet face on the larger man, beads of sweat as big as bullets raining down his brow. He suddenly remembered the toy on his cock and the high-pitched buzz filtered back into his range of hearing. 'Oh fuck, I forgot!'

'T-turn it d-down. P-p-please. I'm going to, I'm so close to-'

'Don't you fucking dare!' Punk warned the Scot, frantically searching his pockets. 'Not before I have a chance to-'

Both men jumped a foot when a long clatter boomed out right next to them. Something had smashed into the other side of the closet door. No, wait, not something. The mumbled moans and loud slurps betrayed the culprits as Roman and Cody, making out sloppy style right there on the other side of the thin wood.

Punk turned to Drew in disbelief, mouthing 'holy shit' to the other man. Drew could only reply with a pained grimace.

'Damn, I've missed this,' Roman's voice rumbled, only an inch or two away from the stowaways. 'You always taste so good.'

Cody was breathless already. 'So... so everybody keeps telling me.'

'Is this an expensive suit?'

'No. Why?'

The sound of fabric being shredded bucked life back between Punk's legs. The blood drained from his head, rushing down south fast, making his jeans all the tighter. Then his shirt was tugged again.

'Daddy?'

Oh, fuck! Drew was desperate now! Why now? Why call him that now? When Punk was starting to ache horribly himself but couldn't do a damn thing about it.

'Daddy! P-please h-help me.'

'I'm trying! I'm trying!' he hissed back, sliding his hands into every one of the pockets of his jeans, struggling to fit his inked fingers between the too-taut denim and coming up empty.

Punk went still.

Horrible realisation dawning on him.

Drew arched his brows wretchedly at him, his blue eyes swelling with dread.

'D-daddy?'

Punk slowly met his gaze, lips pursed tight. 'I... don't have my phone,' he whispered fearfully. 'I must have dropped it when-'

Another clatter against the door and both men backed away, wedging themselves as far back into the tiny space as they could. The wood slammed again and again, rhythmic. Punk's brain went into a spin when he recognised the sound of two men fucking one another like wild animals.

Meanwhile Drew let out a pitiful squeal of his own, the intensity on his cock too much to bear. Punk rushed towards him, ramming both of his hands over Drew's mouth. 'Shhhh, hold on. Just... hold on a little longer.'

The rhythmic banging intensified, punctuated by deep strains of Roman's grunts and higher tones of Cody's gasps. All while Drew's warm dog breath fogged on Punk's hands, the buzzing seemingly getting louder, like a swarm of angry hornets surrounding them. Punk was pressed so tightly against Drew that he could feel the sensation of the cock ring on his stomach, jiggling his lower gut like jelly. On a hydraulic drill. During a mag 9 earthquake!

He grit his teeth, tried to fight back against the growth in his jeans but was failing miserably. How the fuck had Drew's dick not exploded from this fucking thing yet?

The Scot was dangerously close though. Teetering right on the edge. A tear ballooned out the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.

'No! Drew! No!'

Suddenly Punk's hands were useless. Drew's bellows breaking through the inked fingers.

'The fuck was that?'

Punk's heart skipped a beat. They'd been rumbled!

Ten seconds later, the door was wrenched open, light hitting the two accidental voyeurs concealed inside the closet. 'Punk? Is that you? And... Drew?'

The Scot let out a final strangled wail followed by a long, drawn-out groan of relief. His large legs went slack and he slumped to the floor, back pressed into the corner of the closet and head lolled.

'Oh for fuck's sake, Drew,' Punk kicked one floppy tree-trunk leg with the toe of his sneaker. 'You fucking, pathetic-'

'Eh-hem!'

Punk looked up sheepishly at Cody and Roman. Both men were in a dishevelled state, like they had only had enough time to zip up their flies after the interruption. Cody's shirt was torn apart and his cheeks rosy. Roman was panting, his shoulders heaving.

Punk crossed his arms and lowered his brow. 'Yeah?' he glowered at the pair. 'Can I help you?'

'Well, yeah!' Cody replied incredulously. 'You can tell me what you're doing here.'

'We were here first,' he shot back with a shrug. 'What are you doing here?'

'It's my locker room.'

Punk squinted at him, confused. 'Your locker room?'

'It has my name right there on the door!'

'Oh,' Punk withered. 'I... did not see that.'

'Punk,' Cody scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh, 'what are you doing hiding in my locker room, with Drew McIntyre of all people?'

The tattooed man bristled at the question. 'What am I doin'-? What about you? What are you doin'? What would Randy say if he found out you were sleeping with the enemy?'

'You're the one fucking Drew McIntyre!'

'Hey! We were not fucking!' Punk protested before quickly returning the conversation back to Cody and Roman. 'And anyway, come on! Roman fucking Reigns? The guy made your life hell? You faced him at Wrestlemania, twice! He attacked you for crying out loud!'

'Drew McIntyre smashed your face into a metal door and left you a bloodied corpse in your own home town!'

'Roman had his third cousin, thrice removed, through wedlock or however the fuck Dwayne is related to him, beat you to the floor and whip you senseless with a leather belt.'

'Oh... my god!' Cody screamed into his hands. 'Are you even listening to yourself right now? Are the concussions finally catching up with you? Do you even remember what the hell happened in Berlin or have you just lost your damn mind?'

'What did you do to Drew?' Roman's booming voice broke through the two men's bickering and they turned to spy the unresponsive Scot.

'Oh, shit! I forgot! Again!' Punk looked around and spied his phone on the floor close to where Drew had lifted him up earlier but before he could retrieve it, Roman picked it up. 'Hey! Gimme that!'

'Hmm,' Roman cocked an eyebrow as he scanned over the controls on the phone's screen. 'Just-Vibing? What is this?'

'Nothing!' Punk failed miserably at looking innocent.

Roman slid his thumb down the curser and Drew let out a sigh of sweet relief. But as he slid it back up, he tensed up again and thumped his head back against the corner of the closet. Then, when he pressed a button, there was a series of sharp buzzing which Drew gasped with in unison.

'Wait, it pulses?' Punk asked in astonishment. 'I didn't know that!'

'Man, old people with technology!' Cody mocked.

'Shut. Up!'

Roman ignored them and walked over to the ragged Scot. 'Hands up, Puppy,' he said and Drew immediately complied.

'Wait, what?' Punk spluttered out from behind.

'He was mine first,' Roman returned. He dipped two fingers into the studded waistband of Drew's trunks and pulled them back, discovering a wet, sticky mess coating the inside of his gear as well as the brightly coloured silicone ring wrapped around Drew's softened dick. 'You got him a cock-ring?'

'He broke my bracelet, so I told him to buy me a replacement,' Punk shrugged with a mischievous grin. 'Told him he could keep it in his trunks like he used to, you know, for old times sake.'

'It's the same fucking colours too,' Roman rolled his eyes.

'Maybe it's about time he returns it,' Cody side-eyed Punk, slyly.

'Huh?' the tattooed wrestler glanced warily between them. 'What are you-?'

'Good idea,' Roman said, reaching into Drew's trunks and slipping the silicon ring off of him, the Scot purring as he was freed. However, Punk's panic spiked and he tried to back away from the impending danger. 'Here,' Roman tossed Punk's phone to Cody, 'since he sullied your locker room, you get to play with him first.'

'Well, if you insist,' Cody grinned wickedly at Punk, who found himself backed into a corner, Roman and the cum-soaked cockring drawing closer and closer.

'Now, wait, we can all talk about this like gentlemen, right? Guys. Guys???'

[jermer10]

For a fic request, Soldier slowly falls in love with the reader and constantly denies it because he feels like a strong American man shouldn't have butterflies in his stomach every time he sees a pretty person.

TF2 in the trenches | soldier x reader

gn reader | soldier is so awesome love that guy, sorry for the comically long wait time and enjoy mr artoatsblog and eris090 <3

drabbles under the cut :P

You had just joined the administration team as a fresh recruit, assigned to the role of Civilian - a object of protection. You weren't a fan of the title, nor the nature of your role. Having to be escorted across the map by whichever team had you that week, putting up with the fretting and the comments, as if you were a hassle more than an important part of your workplace. If the pay wasn't so good, you would have left on your first day. Most mercs not-so-secretly reveled in the idea of getting to play the hero, the RED Soldier, however, was more than happy to ignore you. An intimidating presence on the battlefield, barking orders and rarely engaging with anyone outside of his explosive rants. His helmet shadowed his face, making it even harder to connect with him on any personal level.

But still, something about him drew you in. Maybe it was his unwavering determination, or perhaps the way he threw himself into danger without hesitation. Whatever it was, you wanted to get to know the man behind the helmet. Your first few attempts to speak with Soldier didn’t go well. He wasn’t rude, but his responses were curt, clipped, and filled with military jargon you didn’t quite understand. “Sir! I just wanted to thank you for covering me on the battlefield earlier,” you said one day after a particularly rough mission. He stopped polishing his rocket launcher just long enough to give you a sideways glance. “IT WAS NOTHING, MAGGOT. JUST DOING MY PART TO FIGHT THIS WAR AGAINST THOSE COMMIE SISSIES!” He left all too quickly, rambling about something in the kitchen.

You nodded, feeling a little defeated. Every day, you tried a little harder to get through to him. You’d help him clean his gear, bring him his favorite rations, and even offer to spar with him during training. Yet, each interaction ended the same way - short, jargon filled responses and some quick reason to leave. The first time you managed to break down one of his walls was after a particularly shitty week. The team had lost, and everyone was exhausted. You found Soldier sitting alone outside, staring at the rain falling on the muddy battlefield. His usual brash energy was nowhere to be found. “You alright, Soldier?” you asked cautiously, approaching him. “You don’t usually sit still this long.”

He grunted but didn’t tell you to go away. Encouraged, you sat beside him. “I know today was tough,” you said gently. “But we’ll bounce back. We always do.” For the first time, he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Lost too many good men in my time,” he said quietly, surprising you. “Can’t afford to lose any more. Not again.” The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. This was the first time he’d spoken to you like a person, not a recruit or a subordinate. You carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away.

He didn’t.

“We’re not going anywhere,” you reassured him softly. “You’ve got our backs, and we’ve got yours.” You understood his feelings of inadequacy. Soldier finally turned to face you, his eyes, usually so stern, softening just a little. You had no idea what Soldier's life was like before taking this job, the things he had seen, the things he had done. The mercs couldn't die, but you both knew he pushed them a little too hard sometimes. Finding someone to take their place in the family the team had built, well Soldier wouldn't admit it, but it would hurt. “You’re a strange one, recruit,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “But... you’ve got guts. More than I gave you credit for.” You smiled.

The next few days were different. Soldier still barked orders and rambled about war as per usual, but there was a subtle shift in how he interacted with you. He didn’t brush you off as quickly when you approached him, and every so often, he’d even seek you out himself, whether to talk strategy or simply share a meal in silence. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for you to notice - and enough for him to realize he was letting his guard down. That realization, of course, did not sit well with Soldier.

He found himself more aware of you whenever you were around. At first, it was just an occasional glance, a brief acknowledgment. But soon enough, it was much more than that. He noticed things about you he hadn’t before: the way you smiled when you talked, the way you styled you hair differently for every mission, and how, despite the constant chaos around you, you managed to stay calm and collected.

And that was the problem.

Soldier wasn’t supposed to notice those things. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything other than the drive to win the war and keep you safe as part of his duty. But now, every time you crossed his mind, there was that familiar, frustrating feeling - his stomach tightening, chest warming in a way that made him want to scream at himself. He refused to let it happen.

The next time he had approached you, it was after a flawless mission. You were sitting off some ledge somewhere, bottle of whisky in hand and a pleasant look on your face. He felt hot and awkward - he knew the next day you had to go over to the BLU's, and he hated knowing that he would have to try and kill you in order to prevent the enemies from winning. He also knew he had feelings for you - some not so 'professional workplace relationship' feelings, and trying to explain them to you of all people was so easy yet so hard.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already leaning down to sit. You smiled up at him. "Yeah, could do with some company." You passed the bottle between one another, taking swigs and cracking jokes, discussing the recent victory you had shared. After a few moments of silence, you noticed that Soldier kept sneaking glances at you from under his helmet, his jaw tight. You tilted your head, curious. “Is something bothering you?” He slammed the almost empty bottle onto the wooden planks of the flooring next to you, clearly frustrated with something - though it seemed like the frustration was directed more at himself than at you. “This- this isn’t right!” he finally snapped.

You blinked, startled by the outburst. “What isn’t right?”

“You!” Soldier pointed at you with a gloved finger, his voice rising. “You keep... getting in my head. I can’t focus! Every time I turn around, there you are, smiling and asking questions, making me think about - about things I shouldn’t be thinking about!” Your eyes widened as realization hit. “Soldier, wh- are you saying-?”

“No!” he interrupted, his voice gruff. “I’m not saying anything! I’m a soldier! I don’t have time for... whatever this is.” There it was. The vulnerability he had been fighting against for so long. He hated feeling weak, and these feelings, whatever they were, were making him feel weak. But now that it was out in the open, there was no taking it back. You were startled, confused, and feeling the same churning feeling in your chest and warmth spreading over your face that he was. “It’s okay to care about people, Soldier,” you said softly, your voice calm. “It doesn’t make you weak. If anything, it makes you stronger.”

For a long moment, Soldier didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his helmet. Then, finally, he let out a long, defeated sigh. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his words. “I don’t like... feeling like this.” You smiled, a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to like it. But you don’t have to fight it either.” Soldier processed your words, chewing at his bottom lip. Then, with another resigned grunt, he nodded. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “But don’t think this means I’m going soft, maggot.”

You laughed softly. “I wouldn’t dare.”

And for the first time, Soldier didn’t try to deny what was happening between the two of you. He might not have fully understood it yet, but he was no longer running from it either.

[icequeenlila]

Context: They're walking back to their shared dorm.

"Don't you worry what people think when they see you with me?"

This time the pull inside his gut wasn't as bad, still Bradley couldn't find it in himself to look at Max.

"You know", Max said. "I'm amazed every time I remember you managed to make an entire campus believe you're this untouchable ego-king." He cocked his head, looking at Bradley with caring eyes. "When in reality, you have pretty much no self-esteem."

Bradley kicked a pebble on the floor.

"If you only ever interact with people on a shallow basis, it's pretty easy to pretend", Bradley said with a shrug. "And before you, the only person I ever actually talked to was Tank."

"Well, then I consider myself honored to be one of the few people allowed to see your real self", Max said and the smile on his lips was so fond that it left no doubt he actually meant it.

Bradley didn’t deserve him.

"And to put your mind to rest," Max said, his thumb running along Bradley's palm again, sending shivers through his traitorous body. "If it was possible I'd let the whole world know that I am dating Bradley Uppercrust the third, and that I'm so, so very happy about the fact."

Bradley felt that fragile thing inside his chest again. His cheeks burned and he didn't try to hide it. There was a lump building in his throat, and Bradley swallowed it down. If it was just Max, maybe he'd let his emotions run free, but there was just no way he'd let a single tear slip when he was outside, in bright daylight.

"I'm very happy too", he said and his voice was barely audible even to his own ears.

Max’ smile was booming. He looked at Bradley like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

The thought alone made his heart swell with unbearable warmth. The thought that Braldey might be precious to Max.

"Wait", Max said, eyes growing big. "I have an idea."

He abruptly stopped on the sidewalk, almost making a guy on a skateboard bump into them.

"Yo, watch your step!"

Max completely ignored him, instead looking at Bradley with wide eyes and a smile that told him he was up to no good.

"Max?", he asked, his voice wary.

"Two flies with one strike", Max blurted.

"What?"

"You're worried people will judge me for being with you, and you're scared people will realize you're a complete softie for me."

Bradley frowned. "Well, I wouldn't say it like that- "

"I'll proof to you that I don't give a fuck about what people think and draw all attention from you." 

Max sounded more than excited now. Bradley was surprised he didn't see a tail wagging behind his back.

"Goof, I have no idea what you’re talking about", Bradley said, crossing his arms.

Max's smile only grew.

"See those people?", he asked.

They were close to the dorms now. There weren't as many people here as there had been by the main building, but it was the middle of the day and most students were on their way to lectures.

"I do", Bradley said, still lost on what Max was trying to tell him. "What about them?"

There was now a full-on grin on Max' face. "People won't even think of painting you the love-sick one when they see that I'm far worse."

"Wha- "

But it clicked.

If possible, Max’ grin grew even wider.

"Goof", Bradley warned. "Don't do something you'll regre- "

"Hey, everyone!", Max yelled, spinning around with his arms spread wide open.

Pretty much everyone within earshot turned at the sound of his booming voice. He was their golden boy after all.

"Max!", Bradley hissed, hiding half of his face behind one hand.

People even stopped on both sides of the sidewalk to listen to what Max had to say, smiles on their lips and curiosity in their eyes.

"I'm dating Bradley Uppercrust!", Max yelled and Bradley's heart did a painful jump inside his chest. "I'm down bad and I'm super happy!"

People's eyes went wide, a universal murmur filling the campus street.

"No", Braldey said, turning on his heel and power walking away from him.

He felt his heart thundering inside his chest, a mix of adrenalin and euphoria setting his insides alight. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

He heard Max laughing behind him, and then warm fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Wait for me, Brad!", he called, giggling. "People will think I'm a liar."

"What are you doing!?", he hissed, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from rising.

"Telling everyone how down-bad for you I am", Max answered with the sun in his eyes.

"People will talk!" There was a quiver in his voice, he only barely contained the laughter bubbling up his chest.

"I sure hope they will", Max said, a giddy chuckle in his voice.

"You're mad", Bradley scolded, but no matter how hard he tried to contain it, he couldn't keep the giggle from his voice.

"Only because I wanna kiss you so bad right now", Max said with a dopey grin, his fingers pressing down around Bradley's hand.

Bradley blushed, almost stumbling as they walked towards the nearing dorms in hurried steps.

"You can kiss me all you want once we're back home again", Bradley said, almost feeling ashamed at his own boldness.

But no shame could fester inside his chest when Max looked at him like that. His warm brown eyes widened in surprise, his pupils slightly blown at Bradley's promise.

"Hurry up or I'll carry you", Max said, pulling Bradley along.

+

From chapter 10 of 'Good Luck, Babe!' on ao3.

[noblehouseofgay]

Sketch

Jegulus and black brothers microfic

Fluff

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Leaves fell from the tree Regulus sat at, autumn weather finally making itself known. Reg sat, sketching in his journal. He loved the arts, all kinds of it. He could play several instruments, he could paint, he'd even taken up the muggle art of pottery on occasion. But today he simply wanted to sketch. He'd seen a certain golden boy smile so brightly today that he'd accidentally memorized the image. Without meaning to he'd ended up sketching the other boy's face. Everything from his unruly hair to his slightly crooked nose.

He was so invested in the sketch that he didn't hear someone walking up behind him. A loud gasp is what broke his concentration. "Is that Prongs??" Regulus slammed his book shut and turned to find his brother looking at him with a smug smile. "No." "Ah ah don't lie Reggie, I know my Prongsie when I see him. Why are you drawing him?" Sirius sat down too close for Regulus' comfort. "I wasn't." "Alright cut the shit, Reg, you can't lie to me. Besides, you're face is red." Sirius laughed and then gasped again. "Do you like him?" Regulus face reddened more. "You do!" "Not!" "You do! You so do! Oh that's adorable."

Regulus smacked him with the journal. "If you don't shut up they will never find your body." "Aw, Reggie, come on it's fine I won't tell him. I think it's cute." "It's pathetic. And nauseating."

Sirius' smile softened. "You know, I think it's good. Someone like James would be good for you." Regulus chewed on his lip, looking out at the lake. "Not sure I'd be good for him."

"Reg..." "Don't be dumb, Sirius, though I know that's difficult for you." "You would be good for him. Really. He needs someone who will tell it to him straight." Regulus raised an eyebrow at that last word. Sirius scoffed. "You know what I mean. He doesn't take care of himself nearly as much as he should, he needs someone who will make him."

"He needs someone who's not a living black hole." "Always so dramatic, Reggie." Sirius snatched the sketchbook from Regulus. "Hey-!" Sirius flipped through, finding drawing after drawing of James. "You clearly care about him, Reg. Aww is that me? Aw you d o care!" Regulus tackled his brother to the ground and grabbed the book. Sirius was laughing beneath the smaller boy, even as he got smacked over the head with the journal. Regulus sat back down, holding it close to his chest.

"Look, I wouldn't lie to you, Reggie. Not about this." Sirius shrugged. "I think it could happen." "You're a moron." Sirius got up. "That I am, dear brother, but alas I do know my best friend, and I know you. So take it or leave it, I said my piece."

Sirius gave him a wink and walked off, leaving Regulus blushing and clutching his drawings. His brother wasn't entirely wrong, as much as he loathed to admit it. He knew them both well, and if he thought there was a shot then, well, maybe there was.

He opened his sketch book and tore out one picture of James, folding it neatly. He scribbled a small R on the paper, deciding he'd leave it outside the gryffindor portrait and let James do the rest.

[youcouldmakealife]

Do you ever mix up names? I love your stories, but I am shit at names and as your pantheon/league grows I find myself increasingly turned around by all the north american dude names (first, last, AND hockey nicknames!!!). I can usually keep track of the on-going series names and names that are less common in North America (Kiro, Sven), but if I'm reading, say, an ask or rereading I usually have remind myself who is who first.

I don't mix them up between themselves and other characters in either a similar name way (James vs Jake, say) or roles (mixing up say, Wheels and Craney and Matty).

(This got so long and off topic, why does this always happen)

What I do mix up is sort of more of a...muscle memory thing, maybe? I'm writing the word, say, gorgeous, and I have to delete georgieous first, because my fingers apparently have become a phone's autocorrect function. I actually did write James as Jake a few times when I was deep deep in editing BTT, but again, it was just sort of like...an autofill error between my brain and my fingers.

The names themselves I'm pretty good with, though I do worry about whether I'll continue to be as a) the pantheon continues to expand (I love this by the way, and now I'm probably going to spend the rest of my evening mentally assigning characters places in the pantheon) and b) I get older. And both things seem pretty inevitable to me.

Unfortunately, the two things I appear to have in common with Leo Tolstoy are brevity and 'these people have three names, and I'm going to use them all interchangeably'. (ie Vinny is Thomas to himself, but Vinny to literally everybody else including me. And sometimes Tommy but only to Anton and his parents and only sometimes. Anton's alternately Anton, Petrov, Tony to Vinny and teammates, or Antosha to his family.)

I'd honestly apologise for it but it's one of those things that's really inextricable from the sort of...falling into a perspective way that I write, the same way I write in American English for American characters and Canadian English for Canadians, or use Christian (and specifically Catholic) references in Robbie or Georgie's POVs but never, say, Mike's or David's, unless we count Mike's very liberal usage of the word goddamn (and it's lowercase with him, but it'd be Goddamn to Robbie.)

And the different vocabularies extends to names. Like William Dineen is William to Robbie, he specifically asked to be called that when he was a teenager who wanted to feel more adult, and Robbie respected that then and continues to now. Georgie respected it in another way -- he was Willy to him, and now he uses Will, which William is fine with, but only with immediate family.

But in the text itself Georgie would never use William, because it'd feel distant to him, and Robbie would never use Will because he'd consider that disrespectful after William specifically requested to be call that, and me choosing one or the other wouldn't be in character, so he's Will and he's William, but never Willy (that's Tate Williams).

I make this all sound like a much more conscious process than it is. A lot of this stuff I've only figured out via metacognition of my writing process, which is, by necessity, done in hindsight.

My original answer to questions like 'why did you do _____ that way?' is invariably '*shrug* felt right', and people tend to find that...unsatisfying, so I often investigate further, and the answer becomes 'felt right because of <this reason I was in no way consciously aware of during the writing process>'. As I've said to my poor beleaguered editor, a lot of my writing process is 'just vibes'. I follow good vibes. Bad vibes tell me something's not working, and I adjust accordingly. I think a lot (I cannot tell you how many times I've been accused of overthinking things), but when it comes to writing, most of it's happening beyond my own perception, so instead it feels more like gut instinct. (which is, indeed, what gut instinct often boils down to: pattern recognition going on beneath one's conscious awareness)

[jiao-ming]

Aventurine

From: Honkai Star Rail

Theme: Fluff?

(Photo from Pinterest)

——— ☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ———

You never really saw a reason to live, all life was is a circle of meaningless. The things you knew about life was that it was better to be feared than be loved.

Ever since you could remember, your life was filled with misfortune. Each time you meet someone, they'll either kill you on site or kill you later on. If you think it'll be different, it wasn't...I wouldn't...

You had a wonderful gift of power, if it was even called a gift. It gives you more of a curse then blessings, everytime someone founds out about them you'll be in danger. So you eliminate the danger as soon as possible, even if you thought they'll be different...

But something stranged happened one day...

You were just chilling on a rooftop of a building in the middle of the night. Then you heard the rooftop door open, you were ready to kill the person but they spoke up to you.

"The rumors say that you'd be in the tallest darkest building in the city..."

You turn your head and face the masculine voice, you saw it was a man who wore expensive clothing. The clothes he wore had designs like of different gambling games, it caught your attention by his bold style.

"What do you want from me."

You said coldy to the male, you didn't want to be here any longer. If he tries to stop you, you'll kill him.

"It's not want, more like a need."

The male says smirking at you as his eyes shine with excitement. This made you confused by his choice of words. Your guard was up, what is he up to.

"Who are you...?"

You said confused with wariness, you already had your gun ready if he tried something.

"I'm Aventurine, part of the IPC—"

You immediately cut him off by shooting him by the side of his head. His eyes widen by the sudden violence.

"IPC huh...I don't associate with any of you people..."

Your eyes glare at him as you spoke harshly towards him, you never liked the IPC. The organization is just pure evil with no good side to you, maybe the way you think about them was because of all your encounters with them. They all acted hostile and violent to you, with the fact of them having a terrible image in the galaxy.

"Come on now, I heard some of my associates were troubled some to you. But I assure you I'm not like them, I communicate other than fighting."

Even after Aventurine said that you still had your guard up, you held your gun up to him if he tries anything. Even the slightest movement will cause Aventurine his life with you, but all he did was smile to this.

"Doesn't matter, you all are the same. If you want something you'll take it by force."

After you said does words Aventurine laughs at it, this made you confused. Why was he so careless of showing his reactions, what was his plan.

"What if I tell you I'll help you find a reason to live."

This caught your attention, why does he know this! How does he know this! Your eyes glare at him harshly, you didn't like what this situation was turning to.

"What do you want in return..."

You said knowing this wouldn't come for free, everything has to come in a price. No matter how big or small it is, you learn it the hard way...

"What I need in return is for you to be part of the IPC,—"

That didn't surprise you, it would make sense on why he would want you to work for the IPC. With your power it would be handy to have someone like you. But the next part of his sentence caught you off guard and left you speechless.

"—and also be my bodyguard."

You look at him like he was a mad man, it wasn't like he was the first person to ask the question of you working for them. But for him to ask you to be his bodyguard!? Now that was new...

"Pardon—What?"

"You heard me! Be my bodyguard and I'll help you find a reason to live."

Was he stupid of something...No he couldn't be! Why would he ask you! Knowing how you're a so called wicked beast who is filled with sin! A known demon among citizens! He could just have hired you to do the dirty work! But he asked you to be his bodyguard! So why!?

"Why, have you heard of me?"

"Of course I did, why wouldn't I ask you to be my bodyguard if I didn't heard the rumors."

So he does know...Then why did he want you still!? Did he have a death wish or something!? Is he a mad man!? Was he manic!? Questions keep flooding your head, but you soon snap out of it when Aventurine spoke out.

"So? What do you say?"

He says with a smirk as he held his hand out for you to shake to agree to the proposal. You stare down at his short height and then to his hand, will it be worth it? Almost everytime someone ask you to work for them you decline them, and if they threaten you, you'd kill them. But now...

"Fine, I accept..."

You said as you walk towards him and shook his hand, this was something that might go terribly wrong. But then again maybe terribly right...Aventurine smirks at your decision, he then pulls out a pin. It's design was similar to his ascetic and a piece of paper, he then hands it to you.

"You'll be under me now, hope you can start work tomorrow."

He says walking away from you while waving, you look at your hand and stare at the paper. It had an address and a number, must be his address and number. You let out a sigh, you wonder if this was a good idea. But what can you do now? What is done is done, now you just have to wait for the out come...

——— ☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ———

Sorry if I got some spelling wrong...

English isn'y first language ╥﹏╥

If you want part 2 ask me!

I'll be happy to write it :3

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I can't stop thinking about Orpheus and Eurydice...

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

i would like to stop experiencing the full spectrum of human emotions every day please. putting this out into the universe