#might write the second prompt in another reblog

[03jyh23]

༘⋆mon's 500 followers special.ᐟ.ᐟ 500-word prompt roulette⟢

🏠┆home in your arms

song mingi x gn! reader

│synopsis: the one where mingi missed you

│genre: fluff

│trigger warnings: none!

│roulette prompt 6 + mingi + galactic

You put the key into the lock, making sure you're quiet enough not to wake Mingi up—your flight was delayed and you landed in the middle of the night. You were about to turn the key when the door suddenly opened. Mingi stood there, his hair disheveled. You smiled at him and wanted to say hi, but before you could open your mouth, Mingi pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He breathes in your scent, and you can't help but smile against his chest.

"I missed you," he whispers, arms tightening around you. "Don't go away for that long again."

You laugh. "Baby, it was only three days," you say as you gently pull away to peck his lips, but he only pulls you back in, burying his face in your neck.

"Three days too long," he mumbles against your skin, and you can't help but melt into his warmth.

He hums contentedly, swaying you both gently from side to side in the doorway. The cool night air wraps around you both, but you can barely feel it with how warm he keeps you. His fingers trace patterns on your back, and you can tell he won’t let go even for a moment.

"Will you at least let me close the door?" you ask yet your arms tighten around his waist.

Mingi chuckles, "Fine, but only if you promise not to leave my arms for the rest of the night." You smile and nod against him, letting him shuffle backward just enough for you to kick the door closed behind you.

You lock eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to peck his lips. He smiles into it and pulls you closer to kiss you, slowly, lovingly.

"I missed you too, love," you say, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. His eyes are filled with so much love and adoration that it makes your heart skip a beat.

Mingi pulls back slightly, a pout forming on his lips. "You better have missed me just as much," he teases, his eyes twinkling. "I might be devastated if you tell me you didn't think about me every single second you were away."

You giggle, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Every single second? Even when I was sleeping?"

"Especially when you were sleeping," he says with mock seriousness. "I expect detailed reports of all your dreams about me."

You laugh, playing along. "Well, there was this one dream where you were a galactic cowboy, riding through the stars on a glowing space horse..."

Mingi's eyes light up with amusement. "A galactic cowboy? Do tell more."

You can't help but giggle at his eager expression. "You were wearing this ridiculous sparkly spacesuit with cowboy boots and a hat that had little twinkling stars all over it."

He bursts into laughter, the sound warm and rich. "Sounds like quite the fashion statement. Maybe I should try that look sometime."

"Please don't," you say through your giggles, burying your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head, and you both stay like that for a while.

"Come on," he whispers, tugging you gently toward the bedroom. "Let's get you to bed. You must be exhausted from your flight." You nod sleepily, finally feeling the tiredness settling in now that you're home. As you both curl up under the covers, his arms still wrapped protectively around you, you know that no matter where you go, coming back to him will always feel like coming home.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│please join my 500 followers special!│

[lov3notts]

happy 1k!! 🥳 congrats again amora! you deserve all of this and so much more, can’t wait to see you grow even more 🤍

for cupid’s arrow, can i request mattheo riddle with the prompt,  “but i miss you...” “hon’ i just left fifteen minutes ago.” 

congrats again bb!!

1k Celebration!!! ;Navigation

couldn’t have done it without your help on my first fic<33 also i have so many versions of your request😭

He had no shame.

None. Zero. It had been—he checked the time—six minutes since you walked out the door, and Mattheo was already lying flat on his bed like a man in mourning. One hand dramatically tossed across his forehead, the other clutching the hoodie you left behind like it was a lifeline.

The silence in his apartment was unbearable.

So he did what any completely rational, emotionally well-adjusted boyfriend would do.

He called you.

You answered with a knowing lilt in your voice. “Hey, babe.”

Mattheo didn’t even hesitate.

“I’m dying.”

There was a pause. Then, your voice came through with a smirk so obvious he could hear it.

“Oh no. Tragic. Should I alert the Ministry?”

“I’m serious,” he mumbled, rolling onto his back dramatically. “You left and now this place is a ghost town. There’s a chill in the air. I think my soul left with you.”

You made a sympathetic noise that was anything but sincere.

“Wow. Must be horrible having a moment to yourself.”

He could hear your footsteps, the breeze in the background. You were still walking. Rude.

“It is” he groaned. “It’s awful. I think the bed’s colder. And my heart? Hollow.”

“You poor thing.”

“I am!” he insisted, tossing an arm over his eyes. “I was just lying here thinking, ‘Wow. If she doesn’t come back, I might never smile again.’”

You hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno. You seemed pretty alive and well when I left. Standing up, fully functional, smirking at me while I walked out the door.”

“That was before the loneliness set in.”

You laughed, cruelly unbothered. “Sounds intense.”

He grinned at the sound, clutching the phone closer like it might pull you through the screen. He dropped the fake suffering for just a second, voice quieter now—sincere in that rare, boyish kind of way you always managed to pull out of him. Then—softer—he said,

“But I miss you.”

And that’s when you really broke. Your smile softened through the phone, and your voice dropped to a teasing drawl.

“Hon’ I left fifteen minutes ago.”

Mattheo blinked at the ceiling, completely unbothered. “Yeah. And I’ve missed you for all fifteen.”

You snorted. “You’re hopeless.”

He grinned. “Hopelessly in love with you.”

“Obviously.”

He paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Come back?”

Another pause. Then you sighed. “Be where I left you.”

“I never moved,” he promised, already flopping back on the bed. “Still dying. Better hurry.”

“Mattheo…”

“yes?”

“I miss you too.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[runnning-outof-time]

Repay the Favor | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part TWO of A Little Thank You, but can also be read by itself.

Request: yes by @look-at-the-soul - sent as blurb request

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: Another altercation happens at the Garrison. Both Tommy and (Y/N) have a chance to repay the favor.

Warnings: series typical violence (Tommy sees red and takes a beating too far), language, brief manhandling, mention of blood, smoking

Word Count: 2857

A/N: thanks so much for all of the love on the first part of this story! This part was really fun to write —it wasn’t the prompt that won the poll, but I got this idea and just had to write it! The prompt used is bolded. I hope you like what I did with it — Enjoy! :)

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED — I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THE STORY!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

A busy day at the Garrison had finally come to an end. (Y/N) was working on emptying the buckets from around the pub floor, one of her final closing chores of the evening. She was so ready to head home and call it a night.

The sound of the main door opening didn’t even make her look up. “I’ll be finished shortly, Mr. Shelby. The bottle you requested was delivered earlier today. I left it out on the shelf in the stock room,” she greeted and informed the man she thought had entered the building.

Even though Tommy had told her to address him by his first name, Arthur and John hadn’t made that distinguishment yet. She still addresssed them as ‘Mr. Shelby’.

Arthur always liked to come in after closing. He never sought out company, saying that an empty pub was one of the places where he did his best thinking.

The response that (Y/N) got, however, quickly told her that the person who arrived was not Arthur Shelby.

“Go pour me a drink, will you?” The voice was deep and unfamiliar. It made her look up from what she was doing. Her eyes fell on a man she hadn’t seen in the pub before.

“We’re closed, sir,” she told him, maintaining a level, professional voice. Her hesitancy was heightening with each second that passed.

“I didn’t see no sign on the door,” the man commented, jerking his thumb in the direction of the doors to emphasize his point, “you’re the barmaid, yeah?” His eyebrows were now raised as he took a few more steps in her direction.

“I am,” she nodded, her voice still level.

“Then go pour me a fucking drink,” he insisted, a tinge of anger seeping into his voice.

“Sir, we’re closed,” she was also insistent; keeping her boundary clear. The books were already balanced for the night, and who knows…pouring him one drink could have the potential of this man staying all night.

After being on her feet all day, all (Y/N) wanted was to go home. It seemed like she wasn’t going to be getting that wish so easily tonight, though.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re closed,” the man began, his words coming through gritted teeth as his stalked even closer to her, “I’ve been working like a dog all damn day; I’ve earned my keep, so I won’t come in here and be told by a fucking barmaid that I can’t be served a glass of fucking whiskey!” he went off on a rant, his eyes widening with anger as he came to a stop right in front of (Y/N).

She was trying all that she could to keep her composure, but she’d be lying if she said that his actions weren’t intimidating her.

“Sir…”

“Pour me. A fucking. Drink,” he cut her off, his words being spoken through his teeth in a low, seething tone. He then reached out and roughly gripped onto (Y/N)’s chin, allowing him to pull her closer to him against her will, “do it now,” he commanded her, a smirk creeping onto his face as he continued, “before I decide to have my way with you.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, trying with all of her might to keep herself composed while this man’s fingers were surely leaving imprints on her skin. “I’m not afraid of you,” she spoke with as much confidence as she could muster.

The man just grinned at her statement, obviously not caring that she was standing up for herself. He knew he was the one with the power in this situation. “We’ll see about that when you’re…”

He could even finish the sentence. The man’s hand was ripped from her body without warning as his entire body jerked backwards; being pulled by someone (Y/N) couldn’t quite see.

“What…the fuck?” The man sounded entirely confused by this third person entering the situation. Before said person was able to do anything else, the man raised his right arm, bent it and sent his elbow flying backwards; connecting with the person who’d put hands on him.

This didn’t do much to thwart the new person’s attack though. The man was immediately pushed forward in response to the elbow, and it was then that the identity of the mystery person was revealed.

“(Y/N), move,” Tommy spoke in a serious tone, his eyes locking onto hers for a split second.

(Y/N) couldn’t say much, the adrenaline coursing through her body making it tough to string anything together. It was all happening so fast. She trusted her feet to move her behind the bar as the man who attacked her stumbled and turned to face Tommy.

“‘M just tryin’ to get a fuckin’ drink, mate,” the man said as he lunged toward Tommy.

“This place is closed. Should’ve fucking listened to her,” Tommy responded, stopping the man before he was able to do anything, pushing him away once again. The man then looked around, seeing what was close enough for him to grab. His eyes settled on one of the chairs (Y/N) had set on top of the table so that she could mop the floor. “Don’t do that,” Tommy, who realized what the man was thinking, said in attempts to curb the man’s decision. “Just go home and don’t come back here.”

“I want my fucking drink!” the man exclaimed, forgoing the chair and charging Tommy yet again. He immediately took hold of Tommy’s collar, gripping at it in attempts to wrap his hands around his neck. Tommy grabbed onto the man’s waistcoat, bunching it up as they both grappled for a better position on their adversary.

The man was able to move his hands upwards, finding space above Tommy’s collar to wrap his fingers. He grinned at this victory, sniggering as Tommy’s eyes widened. Both had realized that he’d now gained the upper hand in the fight.

This power balance didn’t last long as Tommy quickly managed to find a break in the man’s composure, using this moment of gloating the man was doing to remove his hands and push him away.

The man stumbled slightly, still not deterred, before charging right back to his opponent. He managed to land one last punch with a wild swinging of his fist before Tommy squared up and responded with one of his own. This blow sent the man falling to the floor, and Tommy wasted no time clambering on top of him.

Something snapped inside of him as he corralled the man beneath him. Despite the current position he was in, it was obvious that this man wasn’t giving up on the fight. His arms were flailing around, grabbing onto Tommy’s overcoat in attempts to knock off his balance and remove his weight so that he could be on his feet again.

Tommy didn’t let that happen though. He took one of the buckets (Y/N) had been going around emptying into his hands and briefly wielded it over his head before bringing it down to strike his opponent in the face. The man’s flailing stopped in an instant, obviously stunned by the blow. This didn’t stop Tommy though. It was like everything was now tinted over red as he began to repeatedly strike the man in the head with the bucket.

“Tommy!” The voice sounded muffled, like it was far away. Tommy’s eyes were practically shut now. He was back in the tunnels, fighting for his life against this enemy underneath him. He wouldn’t, couldn’t let up for fear that if he did, the man would spring back up and finish him off. “Tommy, stop!” The voice sounded like a woman’s. It had to be his mind playing a trick on him. “He’s finished!”

Then it clicked. (Y/N). His surroundings returned. He was no longer contained in a tunnel….he was at the Garrison. The man below him was no longer a German solider….it was the man who he first saw with his hand gripping (Y/N)’s chin. (Y/N).

Tommy brought the bucket down, steadying himself as his chest heaved for breath. He became aware of the silence that filled the room and didn’t dare look down at the man below him. After taking a few more deep breaths, he finally lifted his head. He looked around, searching for the woman who’d brought him out of the animal-like state he previously was in.

(Y/N) was resting up against the end of the bar. She was peering around the corner, and had watched the entire altercation happen. A deep breath — perhaps a sigh of relief — escaped her lips when Tommy’s eyes locked onto hers. Once she deemed the situation safe, she moved out from behind the bar and rose to her feet. Slowly, cautiously she made her way over to where Tommy was still kneeling. She tried hard to focus on him and not the bloodied man laying lifeless on the ground

“You should’ve left, (Y/N),” Tommy spoke sternly, trying hard to hide the fact that he too was shaken up by the altercation. It had been awhile since he’d let himself go back to that place; let himself become engulfed by the rage that seemed to reverberate off of the tunnel walls. He hated that (Y/N) had also watched him go to that place. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“Tommy, you’re hurt,” (Y/N) ignored his statements, her eyes focused in on the cut above his eyebrow.

“You should leave,” Tommy also ignored what she had said to him, still stuck on trying to carry out damage control.

“Let me see your head,” she continued on with what she was now worried about, moving even closer to him before bending down to get a better look at the injury he’d sustained.

“You shouldn’t be here, (Y/N),” Tommy was still stuck. His voice was teetering on breaking and he hated it. He hated that he wasn’t the one who was strong in this moment; hated that she’d now seen him for who he truly was.

He’d spent months trying to keep up good graces, spending every second of the extra time he had at the Garrison in hopes of being able to talk with, or even just to catch a glimpse of, her.

It had been that way since she’d been hired. For once, he let Arthur make a decision in the business, and — for once — Arthur had chosen correctly. (Y/N) was the best thing that had happened to that establishment in a long time.

Her kind gesture that came in the form of the flowers she brought him a few weeks ago only served to heighten his desire to see her; to be around her. She’d been on his mind since she exited the snug that day.

But now things had the potential to change drastically. She’d never seen him like this; never experienced this other side of him. He was worried that all of the trust that had been built up between them would now come crashing down.

“I’m not afraid of you, Tommy,” she told him, her eyes locking onto his as she spoke. “You saved me from that man; from what he was looking to do. You did what you needed to do in that moment, and I’m not afraid of you for it. God knows how things would have played out had you not arrived when you did.” Her words were spoken with earnestness, and she hoped that it would cut through whatever whirlwind that she was able to see was raging in his mind at that moment. “You’ve got a cut above your eye. Will you let me look at it?” she brought attention to his injury then.

“I’ll be fine, love,” he brushed off her offer.

“It looks rather bad,” she commented.

“(Y/N)…” he trailed off, saying her name in a sort of a warning tone in hopes to tell her not to push back on how he was responding.

“Let me look at it, please,” she insisted, forgoing the warning, “I won’t be able to sleep if I leave without doing so.”

Tommy thought for a moment. Much like when she was injured and he was offering help, it was quite obvious that she wasn’t going to let up on her stance. She wanted to help him.

“Ok,” he finally gave in to her insistence, nodding his head slightly.

“Good,” she nodded back, appeased with the outcome of their conversation.

“We can go into me office. First aid things should still be in there,” he said, allowing her to stand first before he finally moved from the man he’d beaten.

(Y/N) waited for him to be fully on his feet before she led him back to where the offices were located in the pub. Tommy made a mental note to make sure she exited through the back door of the building, and to also get some men in here to clean things up before the pub opened the next day.

“Sit,” she commanded him, motioning to the chair behind the desk as she moved to grab the things she needed.

“Instant, eh?” Tommy commented, the slightest grin forming on his face as he listened to what she told him to do.

He sat down and watched as she gathered some things before finally moving over to where he was. She placed the materials on the desk next to her before she reached out and gently tilted his chin upwards so that she could see his face better. Thank goodness she had something to be focused on now, because otherwise she would have melted from the way he was looking at her.

First she grabbed a clean cloth and began to wipe the blood from around the cut. Doing this allowed her to get a better look at how bad the injury was. “I don’t think you’ll need any stitches,” she commented, her eyes briefly leaving his face so that she could put some antiseptic onto a cloth. She was still able to feel Tommy’s eyes watching her intently. After wiping the cut with the cloth, she put a small piece of adhesive plaster on it in hopes to keep it covered. She took a step back once she was finished. “I think you should be good now,” she affirmed with a smile.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said appreciatively, his eyes unable to leave her.

“Consider it me repaying the favor,” she smiled at him.

“What type of flowers do you like?” Tommy asked a question, switching up the topic of conversation.

“Primroses.” At first (Y/N) thought nothing of it. Then the randomness of the question clicked. “Why did you ask me that?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

“I want to thank you for repaying the favor,” he responded in a nonchalant manner.

“You don’t need to do that. Saying ‘thank you’ is more than enough for me,” she insisted, “besides, this is the least I can do given how you helped me out there.”

Tommy pursed his lips, hoping to make her think that he was mulling over what she’d said. He wasn’t though…his mind had already been made up. “Alright,” he agreed with her, or rather with himself, “it’s late…can I walk you home?”

“Only if I’m not holding you from anything in doing so.”

“You’re not.”

“You may walk me home,” (Y/N) smiled at him, moving to throw the things she used in the bin. Tommy had lit a cigarette and was waiting at the office’s door by the time she finished. She smiled softly at him and he took it as his go-ahead to leave the room and lead her out of the building.

Today was (Y/N)’s first day back after everything that had happened that evening a few days ago. She was thankful that she was in for the opening shift because she was able to have some time alone in the pub before patrons started coming in.

What was waiting for her on the counter was something she hadn’t expected at all.

Sitting in the middle was a vase filled with a lovely selection of primrose flowers. A soft gasp left her lips as a smile formed on her face. Then she noticed the note sticking out of the top of the bouquet. Moving over to the counter, she grabbed the small piece of paper and read what was written on it: I still wanted to repay the favor. — TS. The words made her laugh. Her smile widened and her heart fluttered as she looked at the flowers again.

“Wonder who those could be from?” Harry, the barman who worked alongside (Y/N), commented with a grin as he emerged from the stock room.

“Oh, I don’t know,” (Y/N) played coy. They both knew who these flowers were from, and a knowing look was exchanged before Harry continued on with his morning duties.

(Y/N) looked at the note again, her smile widening once more.

Mini Series PART 3: Not At All

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @Peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee

@dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @everythingelseisextra

@little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

@novashelby @wonderlanddreamer @cherrycilly @lau219 @meister95

[writer-freak]

Lads x Gn reader | Nice Pants. Can I test the zipper?

Characters: Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus and Zayne

Warning: gn reader, suggestive, english isn't my first language, pretty short

A/n: And another version of this prompt this time with the guys from lads. I am personally not that into Zayne but my friend loves him so I try my best to write for him. Hope you guys enjoy.

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

Xavier

You and Xavier are lounging around in his living room, taking a break. He’s leaning against your shoulder almost dozing off while you are on your phone. After seeing the post you turned your head toward Xavier.

“Nice pants,” you say, biting your lip to hide a grin. “Can I test the zipper?”

Xavier pauses, glancing up at you with one eyebrow quirked. “Test the zipper, huh?” he repeats, now awake and clearly amused. His eyes scan your face, trying to figure out if you’re serious or just messing with him.

He leans back, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, but if this is a TikTok prank, I’m confiscating your phone.”

You laugh, reaching for the zipper, but he catches your hand midway, pulling you close instead. “Just so you know,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, “once you start, I might not let you stop.”

Rafayel

Rafayel is sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a book, but you can tell he’s not really reading it. His eyes keep drifting toward you, clearly more interested in what you’re up to.

You decide to have a little fun. “Nice pants,” you say, leaning over the back of the couch with a sly grin. “Mind if I test the zipper?”

Rafayel freezes, his book slipping from his fingers, and he turns to look at you with wide eyes. For a split second, he looks genuinely surprised, but then a slow, mischievous smile spreads across his face.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a playful spark in his voice like he’s daring you to repeat yourself.

You repeat the question, trying to sound as innocent as possible, but there’s a clear challenge in your tone. Rafayel lets out a laugh, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “You really know how to keep things interesting,” he says, shaking his head with a grin.

He shifts on the couch, patting his lap invitingly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Alright then, be my guest. But just know… this might end up being a full demonstration, not just a test.”

The playful challenge in his voice makes your heart race, but you just grin back at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” you reply, your tone matching his.

Sylus

Sylus is busy cleaning his gun, and you decide this is the perfect moment to hit him with your line.

“Nice pants, Sy. Can I test the zipper?”

He doesn’t even look up at first, just hums in acknowledgment. Then, as the words sink in, he stops what he’s doing and finally glances at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me?” His tone is flat, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth that shows his amusement.

You repeat the question, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Is that a TikTok thing?” he asks, deadpan.

You nod, grinning. “Yup.”

He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “TikTok’s gonna get you into trouble one of these days.”

Before you can respond, he stands up, closing the distance between you in two steps. He tilts your chin up with one hand, his gaze intense. “But sure, darling, go ahead. Just remember, once you start, there’s no turning back.”

He steps back, gesturing grandly to his zipper with a smirk. You laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up as you realize what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

Zayne

Zayne is engrossed in some charts, his focus completely elsewhere as you slide up next to him. You wait for just the right moment before dropping your line.

“Nice pants, Zayne. Can I test the zipper?”

He blinks, the words taking a second to register his usually calm expression morphing into something darker. He turns to you, leaning in so close you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “You might start something you can’t finish.”

He straightens up, pretending to return to his work, but you notice the slight flush on his cheeks. A chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head. “Where do you come up with these things?”

You shrug. “TikTok.”

Zayne smirks. “Well, let’s hope TikTok doesn’t get you into too much trouble.”

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

[hesperisms]

// Knight Shift

This is my submission for @nanamiscocksleeve Christmas Secret Santa Fic Exchange! I was tasked with writing for the wonderful @reilemon ! "Please don't squirm...you're making it very hard for me to be a gentleman..."

// summary: you get a little too drunk and make a fool of yourself at the bar, requiring Zayne to haul you out of there.

// content warnings: 18+ (mdni), fluff, second-hand embarrassment, pet names, early-mid relationship, THE IMPLICATION, toothache cuteness, husband as HECK

// a/n: when I saw this prompt go on the list I was so hopeful I'd get it and I'm so glad I did! I hope I did your idea justice <3 Happy Holidays

likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

1:04 AM Zayne's phone screen beamed a soft blue glow back at him as he sat in his car in the darkened hospital carpark, brow furrowed as he skimmed through his notifications at the end of his shift.

A veritable forensic timeline of your night, his nimble finger scrolled through Moment post after Moment post documenting your Christmas party, smiling and shaking his head as he watched each captured tease of your night progressing. The Moment posts were very innocent at the beginning of the night and they made him smile to himself, you looking cute and bright-eyed in your new dress, twirling in your bedroom mirror to show him what you planned to wear. He felt a blush creep into his cheeks as he watched you, beaming happily and giggling with your colleagues at the bar.

Gradually however, the blush and the smile were replaced by a tight, protective, possessive feeling in his chest and a pit in his stomach as your drinks began to flow freely. The little brightly colored umbrellas from your cocktails were now starting to get stacked up in your messy updo like a crown of flowers, each video adding to your pile of paper adornments as the footage got blurrier and more concerning to him. Zayne had never been much of a drinker himself and you had pinched his cheeks as you rolled your eyes at him, insisting you could handle it when he asked you to be careful and pace yourself tonight, but the most recent Moment posts told a different story to your dismissals.

An hour ago, blurry new male faces appearing beside you and your friend that he didn't recognize as being colleagues of yours and they definitely weren't as drunk as you; twenty minutes ago a shaky POV of you cheer-screaming at the top of your lungs as your friend downed a double shot of something as they spurred her on. Thirty seconds ago a jumbled black screen mess of your phone clattering to the floor as you howled with laughter and someone tried to help you up, shoving another drink into your hand.

"This has gone on long enough; she's too drunk to be among strangers", Zayne thought to himself with a scowl as he started the car and began to navigate his way towards the location you'd tagged in your Moment posts. He dialed your number as he drove and after what felt like half a lifetime, you picked up the phone.

"ZAAAAAAAAAAAYNIE! ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYNIE!" you slurred at him excitedly as your glassy and unfocused eyes finally came into view on the facetime call. You were so much drunker than he expected you to be, so much so that he was half-questioning if something had been slipped into your drinks. "Zaynie I've been having SO. MUSH. FUN. with my new frenzzz here...what uhh...what were your namsh again?" you asked with a giggle as one of the unrecognized men muttered in the background and swiped at your phone when you turned it towards him.

Zayne forced a slight smile for you and spoke in a slow, even tone that hid his true feelings about the situation "I just finished my shift, I thought you might like me to come pick you up and we can finish the night with some dessert, hmmm?". With how happy you'd been to answer his call, he expected an enthusiastic yes, so when you pouted and whined that you were still having fun with your new friends, you weren't ready to leave yet, Zayne couldn't hide his icy scowl. "I'll be there in five minutes, Y/N, I'll carry you out of the bar if I have to." Zayne stated in a firm, no-nonsense tone.

Whether you hung up accidentally or deliberately didn't matter to Zayne, what mattered was you were alone and very drunk with strangers. His knuckles gripped the leather steering wheel tightly and he sped up a little, pushing the boundaries of how comfortable he felt speeding at this late hour. All he cared about was getting to you and getting you home safely.

Leaving his car a block away from the bar, Zayne jogged up to the doors, only to be stopped by the two large men guarding the entrance with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Too late for new entries, Sir" one of them said with a note of apology to his tone as he blocked Zayne from going further. Standing up on his tiptoes to peek over their shoulders, Zayne shook his head and began to make his case to them. "Sorry gents, I'm trying to collect someone. You might've seen her? Blue and white dress, about this tall, very drunk?". With timing so perfect only the cosmos could've coordinated it, you let out a loud squeal of laughter that carried through the open doorway, followed by a crash of what sounded like breaking glass. "Speak of the devil...May I?" Zayne winced in apology as the two bouncers looked at each other then back to him with a nod and stepped aside.

"Better you get her out quietly than we have to turf her out, Sir."

Nodding back with an apologetic tight smile, Zayne pat the shoulder of the bouncer in thanks as he passed, making a beeline for where your noise came from. When you had slipped and fallen off the barstool, your heel had snapped off your left shoe and you were drunkenly wobbling, trying and failing to understand why you had no balance.

Placing a hand gently on your shoulder so that you knew he was there, Zayne made his presence known. "Looks like I got here right on time, Y/n" he raised his voice above the cacophony of noise around you in the bar. On seeing your eyes light up in recognition, he dropped to one knee in front of you, beckoning for you to stick your foot out to him. Rewarding you with a slight smile as you complied, Zayne slid his hand delicately around your heel and began to unbuckle the strap on your shoe, slipping it off your foot. Repeating the process with your other foot, your bare feet now flat to the floor, you looked even smaller compared to his tall broad frame as he hooked his index finger into the straps of your shoes to hold onto them as he stood up, picking paper umbrellas out of your hair and letting them fall to the floor.

"Lets get you home," Zayne said to you softly, eyes scanning between the floor and your short dress, frowning at the broken glass you would risk navigating to the exit. "Hold these for me please," he instructed you, handing your heels back to you, before slipping his suit jacket off and wrapping it around your hips so that it draped down over the back of your legs to protect your modesty. You blinked at him in confusion before letting out a little squeal of surprise as he wrapped his strong arm around your thigh and picked you up over his shoulder, holding you tightly and securely in his arms. "Don't worry Y/n, I've got you, I won't drop you" he said confidently as he headed back past the bouncers at the front door.

"Zaaaaaaynie," you giggled tipsily. "You're carrying me like a princess, am I your princess?" You teased him as you clung to his neck tightly, your heels and your purse tapping into his strong shoulder blades rhythmically as he walked you back to his car. He paused mid-stride and pulled his head back to look you in the eyes, noting they weren't as glassy as they had been, but you were still far from sober. "My knight in shining armor," you giggled and buried your head in his shoulder. Zayne answered you with a low rumbling hum, your words stirring something in him that makes the tips of his ears flush red. He hoped you were still too drunk to notice and you seemed to be.

He delicately cradled your head to avoid you hitting it as he bundled you into his car passenger seat and he paused, stunned for a second when you suddenly reached up and stroked his hair gently, like you were petting a cat. "So soft..." you murmured sleepily. Zayne cleared his throat and pulled his head away hoping you wouldn't notice the flush deepening. "Feel free to sleep in the car on the way home, I'll wake you when we get there," he whispered to you as he leaned across you to lock in your seatbelt, but by the time he looked up to your face you were already out like a light, your breathing steady and peaceful, cuddling your shoes and your purse to your chest.

Zayne smiled down at you gently, brushing his thumb against your cheek tenderly and closed the car door as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb your slumber. Zayne drove carefully the whole way to your apartment, taking care not to accelerate or brake too suddenly and risk jarring you out of your sleep.

He needn't have worried, because you didn't stir when he opened the passenger side door or when he reached across you to unbuckle your seatbelt. "Princess Y/n," he whispered to you, a playful tone sneaking into his voice. "Wakey wakey your knight is trying to carry you in." Zayne smiled at you as your half-lidded eyes fluttered open sleepily and you struggled to focus. He chuckled and shook his head with an exasperated sigh as you held your hands out to him expectantly, but he still bundled you into his arms to carry you bridal-style up into your apartment complex without a word of complaint.

Zayne shifted you in his arms, putting you down for a second so that he could punch in your front door code. Missing the warmth of his strong arms and the steady beating of his heart lulling you, you snuggled in tightly against his chest, slipping your arms around his hips and pressing yourself flat up against him.

"Please don't squirm...you're making it very hard for me to be a gentleman..." Zayne blushed, reaching to stroke your hair. "Are you steady enough to stand on your own now?" He asked gently. You nodded up at him with a smile, before blushing with an embarrassed giggle as you almost tripped on your own feet trying to walk to your couch. "Wait there, I'll be back in a moment," Zayne instructed you as he shut the door behind you both and made his way to your bedroom and bathroom, moving through your apartment confidently like his own.

From your bedroom he collected a set of pyjama shorts and a shirt of his you had promised to wash but had instead kept to sleep in; he never asked you about it after the fact, liking the idea of it being wrapped around you at night when he couldn't be much more than it gathering dust in his closet. Detouring to your bathroom, he took your toothbrush, loading it up with toothpaste for you, your retainer, your pack of makeup remover wipes and a jar of eye mask patches.

"Your dress, while beautiful, smells like a brewery I'm afraid," Zayne chuckled, sitting down beside you on the couch with the pile of supplies he'd collected for you. He held his hands out to you and made a "come hither" motion with his fingers, encouraging you to scoot closer to him until your knees touched. "Give me your face, Princess Y/n," he said gently, holding your chin delicately with his right hand as he pulled makeup wipes out of the pack with his left and began to carefully wipe the grime of the night from your face.

You sat barefaced in front of him, eyes closed and sighing contentedly at his delicate attentions, your skin tingling from the makeup wipes. "Nope, I'm just resting my eyes," you murmured with a smile when he gently tapped the tip of your nose asking if you had fallen asleep on him. You stiffened for a second as the cool shock of aloe hit your undereye and you opened your eyes lazily to see Zayne placing the little masks carefully and brushing them smooth with his thumbs. Zayne took hold of your chin again, pressing your mouth open with his thumb and index finger, before holding out the toothbrush and popping it into your mouth.

As you brushed your teeth sleepily, enjoying the calm domesticity between you both, Zayne picked up the clothes and put them in your lap with your retainer on top. "Go rinse and change into those while I throw away these wipes and put your phone on charge," he instructed you, brushing your hair back away behind your ears before taking the rubbish into your kitchen to dispose of. You made your way to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. Slipping the clean shirt on over your head, you noticed it smelled like him again and you knew you'd worn it to bed often enough that it had lost his smell...you half-wondered if he hadn't rubbed it on himself a little to transfer some fresh cologne to it for you and the thought made you flush with giddy happiness.

Looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror as you spat and rinsed your toothpaste, you couldn't help but grin to yourself, feeling so spoiled by him. After you disposed of the eye masks and fitted your retainer, you stepped out of the bathroom to find Zayne was nowhere to be found. Wandering through the apartment, you softly called out for him and felt a wave of relief wash over you as you heard him respond from your bedroom. Wandering in, the sight that welcomed you made your heart beat faster; true to his word, Zayne had plugged your phone in on your bedside to charge and was now fluffing your pillows and quilt for you. "There you are," he said with a teasing tone. "I was starting to think you might've passed out on your Knight again."

Zayne held his hand out to you and helped guide you into the bed, bundling you in under the covers, tucking you in. You grabbed his hand, catching his eyes as you felt his breath catch at your unexpected touch. "Stay with me? Please?" you asked and he nodded, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "As my Princess wishes," he responded, swallowing thickly. "Let me just get out of my suit and I'll stay the night with you". You watched Zayne's movements around the room with half-lidded eyes as he slipped his tie and belt off and draped his suit slacks over the back of your arm chair. His nimble fingers worked to undo his cufflinks and free himself from his button up shirt, which promptly followed his slacks onto the chair, the clink of his silver snowflake cufflinks hitting your jewelry dish on your chest of drawers ringing through the silence.

"That gaze of yours is going to bore a hole in me if you keep it up, Your Highness," Zayne teased, a tone of a smirk to his accusation and you blushed, pulling the quilt up over your head. You felt the quilt pulled back from you and internally pouted that Zayne had already slipped on some pjyama bottoms you had bought and left for him to use at your place. He slid himself into the bed beside you and pulled your back up tight against his broad warm chest, wrapping his arms around you in a firm hug and planting one last kiss on your hair.

"Thank you for everything tonight Zaynie," you whispered. "Sometimes I feel like I don't des-"

"Shhh...." Zayne cut you off, his arms squeezing you tighter as he pressed his chin down on the top of your head. "I'm exactly where I want to be," he hummed to you. "If you really want to thank me for being your knight in shining armor, in the morning you can help me make us blueberry pancakes. For now though," Zayne punctuated his final thought by inhaling a deep breath of your hair. "Sleep, my Princess."

[ageofstarkey]

Hi! Could you write a Mattheo one, where it’s that time of the month, and you’re just really not feeling like facing the world.

poor thing ✰ m. riddle

summary: you’re on your period, and matthéo’s there to help you feel less awful.

pairing: bf!matthéo x reader

warnings: reader is implied to be afab, mentions of reader having their period, discussion of period-related symptoms, nothing else really???

note: hello!! thank you so much for the request!! i’m still trying to find my groove with writing, but i hope i did your prompt some justice :’) also pretend that boys can in fact enter the girls dorms in this universe lmfao

masterlist

comments & reblogs are so appreciated!

✰ ✰ ✰

“aren’t you getting up for potions?”

when you roll over, you see pansy watching you from the doorway. she’s dressed and ready for the day - book bag slung carefully across her body. she studies you with something akin to concern; awaiting your response with perfect, furrowed brows.

with a quiet sigh, you push yourself into a half-sitting position. “i don’t think so. i got my period last night and i feel absolutely horrid.”

“want me to tell riddle? i’m sure he’s looking for an excuse to skip anyway”

you roll your eyes fondly. “he’s already missed too many lessons this year - let him figure it out on his own time, yeah?”

pansy shrugs. “fine. hope you feel better.”

you groan, flopping none-too-gracefully back on your pillow. “me too.”

when pansy leaves, you take a few moments to savour the silence. it does little to ease the uncomfortable ache in your abdomen, but it’s quiet enough that you can almost pretend your head hasn’t been throbbing since the second you opened your eyes.

eventually, you snuggle back under your thick quilt, resigned to sleeping away your misery. it doesn’t take long for your fatigue to take over, pushing you steadily towards the edge of unconsciousness.

you’re nearly asleep, when you hear a sharp knock at the dormitory door. your brows tug downwards in confusion. with a quiet groan, you drag yourself out of bed. the floors are shockingly cold against your bare feet, and you curse quietly under your breath as you approach the door.

when you tug it open, you’re pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriends handsome face. although he should be in class, you can hardly fight the grin that tugs at your lips. “you are not supposed to be here.”

matthéo quirks an eyebrow, sporting a smirk you know all too well. “shall i see myself out then?”

you roll your eyes fondly. “no.”

“didn’t think so.” he lets himself in, kicking the door shut behind him. “do you wanna lay down?”

“merlin - more than anything.”

he tugs you gently towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss. “i figured as much.” he murmurs the words against your skin, punctuating them with another kiss. when he pulls away, he nudges you gently towards the bed. “how are you feeling?”

“awful.”

“cramps?” he shrugs off a few layers of clothing, before tugging back your quilt and laying on the bed.

with a gentle little tug, you’re falling into the empty space beside him. “my entire body just… aches.” with a defeated sigh, you drop your head on his chest.

matthéo hums softly, stroking a gentle hand up and down the length of your spine. “poor thing.”

“tell me about it.”

with a quiet little laugh, he tilts your head up towards his own. “do you think you’ll survive?”

“i really might not, théo. this might be it for me.”

matthéo rolls his eyes, but he wears a fond little smile that gives him away. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i am not!” your lips turn downwards in an involuntary pout. “it hurts.”

“i know, sweetheart.” he closes the small gap between you, kissing away your feeble little frown. “why don’t you try and get some rest, hm?”

“you’ll stay?”

he kisses you again - longer this time, and you swear you’re feeling better already. “‘m not going anywhere.”

[withleeknow]

Helloooo! I’ve never done a request before so I hope this comes off okay :)

I love the song “flower line” by om shankar, it makes me smile every time. So, I was wondering if you could do a drabble based that.

If not, maybe the prompt: “real smooth, tripping over air”

If you take this request, thank you so much but if not I completely understand 🫶

call it what you want.

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader genre/warnings: strangers to lovers, college au, fluff; some light cursing, very unedited i am half asleep rn lol, italics indicate flashbacks word count: 1.4k note: hi anon! thank you for the request hehehhee. i decided to go with the prompt and also you didn't specify a member so i went with hyunjin, i hope that's okay :) happy reading <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

"real smooth, tripping over air."

hyunjin came back to the table and set down two coffees, the content of seungmin's plastic cup spilling over the rim just a little bit when hyunjin pushed the beverage toward him rather aggressively.

"shut up," hyunjin grumbled, covering his face with his hands as he wallowed in his misery. "literally shut the fuck up."

it was burnt into hyunjin's subconscious, the feeling of utter embarrassment when he had quite literally scrambled to stand up after you called out his order number and stumbled as he made his way over to the counter.

this was the fifth time that seungmin had been dragged to the campus cafe where you worked part-time as a barista, just to provide emotional support while hyunjin tried not to chicken out of chatting you up. every time, hyunjin swore today's the day, and every time, he went home with his tail between his legs and a brain that was wiped clean the very second you smiled at him.

seungmin only laughed despite losing a few drops of his coffee to hyunjin's dramatic ass. it was entertaining to see his friend like this, panties all twisted in a bunch over a crush on a cute girl whose number he couldn't even muster up the courage to ask for.

"you're such a pussy," seungmin tutted, shaking his head in disapproving amusement and taking a sip of americano as he looked at hyunjin who seemed like he could have a mental breakdown if even a gust of wind were to breeze past him right now. "it's not like you've never asked for a girl's number before. just do it."

"do you want to broadcast my shame to everyone here? keep your loud ass voice down." hyunjin removed his hands from his face and hunched forward to scold his friend in a half-whisper, even though the cafe was busy that day and it was almost impossible for you to hear him from all the way in the corner and over the lively chatter of the other students filtering in and out of the place. "you don't know what it's like. she might be the prettiest girl i've seen in my entire life. i go stupid every time i look at her."

"to be fair, you go stupid pretty often," seungmin said, which only earned him another murderous glare from across the table. "for real, why am i wasting my time here with you if you're just not gonna do anything? you're not even paying for my coffee. i could be in my room sleeping and saving money right now."

a pathetic whine slipped from hyunjin's lips before he sneaks a glance in your direction, where you were focused on writing down some guy's order by the register. "i don't know what to say!" he groaned, "it's so hard. ughhh."

he remembered the first time he saw you, and it wasn't in this cafe. it was at some lame party that he was forced to attend, where the drinks were shitty and the music was even shittier. he was sipping on cheap beer when he spotted you talking to another girl in the corner of the room, both of whom he'd never seen on campus before. what caught his attention was your easygoing smile and how your mere presence just seemed to pull him in despite the roomful of people separating you. he couldn't look away, and as if you could sense his stare on you, you'd turned your head and met his eyes. you'd sent that same charming smile his way, and hyunjin was enamored for the rest of that evening.

he lost sight of you soon after though, and none of his friends knew who you were. that was that; you were a pretty girl that he saw at a party once, whose name he didn't even know but whose smile he had memorized.

then three weeks later, as though the universe had given him a second chance, he saw you again when he came to the cafe for a quick bite before class. you'd smiled at him the same way you did at the party, and he was tongue tied.

fast forward another month and here he was, with his head in his hands as he agonized for the nth time over what to say to you other than "hi," "one iced americano please," and "thanks."

"just tell her you think she's cute and you'd like her number," seungmin said. "it literally doesn't get more straightforward than that. the worst thing she can say is no."

this was how their last four visits to the cafe went, the conversation always ending with hyunjin neglecting his friend's advice in favor of sneaky glances and a mouth shut tight when he failed to hype himself up enough to utter a few words to you.

"if you don't do it today, you're on your own," seungmin told him when he was only met with silence from hyunjin's end. "i'm not coming back with you again. the coffee isn't even good."

"wait, come on, dude. just... wait. i need to think."

"stop thinking. nothing in that brain of yours is going to help."

"hey!"

"are you gonna do it or not?"

"hold on, i need a plan."

seungmin rolled his eyes before he downed the remaining few sips of his coffee. "you know what? if you don't ask for her number, maybe i'll just do it myself." then he was already coolly standing up and heading in your direction without even looking to see if hyunjin heard him correctly.

"seungmin!" hyunjin called, hurriedly gathering his phone and wallet and scrambling to catch up with his friend in a panic. they both stopped in front of the register, where it was thankfully empty now and no one nearby had to watch hyunjin burn himself to a crisp with embarrassment.

"how can i help you?" you asked, looking at them curiously when hyunjin's eyes flit between you and seungmin in a panic.

"uhm... i.... uh..."

"this is hyunjin." seungmin was the coherent one between the two of them as he clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder with a sly grin. "he thinks you're cute and wants to get your number."

"the end," hyunjin says flatly. "the rest was history. you were there, you know what happened."

"come on, please?" you pout, tugging on his arm as you lean closer to nudge your nose against his cheek. "i've only ever heard it from seungmin and he doesn't tell it like you do."

he glances at you from the side. "what do you want me to tell you? that in that moment i considered running out the door and not stopping until i found the nearest ditch to fall into?"

you laugh, all light and airy and it still makes hyunjin as smitten as he was that afternoon in the cafe. "no, the other part."

"the part where i actually did kinda try to run away and bumped into someone and spilled coffee all over myself? and you had to take me to the backroom to let me borrow someone's shirt?"

this draws another giggle out of you as you recall the moment, when you had been so endeared by him that it was hard to let him go home afterward without your number saved in his phone. "yeah," you say, utter fondness dripping from your voice. "that part."

"that was the most embarrassing day of my life. i made a complete fool of myself."

"you were adorable. it's my core memory of you."

"i'm glad you found my humiliation entertaining."

you roll your eyes half-heartedly before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek to appease his faux sulk. "we wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for your dramatic overthinking ass that day, would we? unless... you'd rather take it all back."

hyunjin softens in an instance, huffing out a breath as he mumbles bashfully, "i didn't say that..."

"you big baby," you tell him with your lips still ghosting the side of his face. you're so close like this, so tightly pressed up against each other on your couch that you can feel the warmth of his body and the thumps of his heart when you slide your hand over his chest. you give him another peck on the cheek, then you smile against his skin. "happy six-month anniversary."

there's a light blush that rises from his neck until it covers his face in the most beautiful rosy shade. a shy grin, his eyes turning into little crescent moons from the happiness that spreads from his head down to his toes, then hyunjin is smoothly turning over so he could pin you underneath him, where he presses his lips against yours so your smiles could meet.

"happy six months, baby."

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.05.2024]

[stealingyourbones]

I’m fine with posts about my Blorbo getting ignored. It happens. We all know that. It’s disappointing, but you get inspired, start plotting, maybe even start writing yourself, lose motivation, and stop. It’s normal. It happens to all of us. Not a big deal.

But. BUT. BUUUUT. What drives me fucking insane is when some beautiful creative once-in-a-lifetime hand crafted prompt gets derailed into the generic stereotypical tropes that this crossover fandom constantly falls back on. I know that happens to you a lot, how do you deal with it?

In truth, when you sign up for creating content that you allow anyone to interact with, it’s just a part of the gig. It happens a lot, I may not enjoy it but others do and a community of people writing and having fun is what I strive to create.

My main ways to divert posts are either:

1.) Leave it be and let folks do their thing. The point of prompts is to let anyone add their thoughts, it doesn’t matter your personal feelings on a trope or headcanon.

2.) Simply stop interacting with that reply chain. I used to reblog absolutely every reply I got but now I only reblog the ones I enjoy. It has helped my mental health greatly. Additionally, if you don’t reblog responses to your posts, go and do that. It makes people more likely to see the responses you like if they already follow your blog for your writing and you’ll have a higher likelihood of that prompt gaining more replies.

3.) Put in the tags (#not ____ AU/trope/headcanon). I’ve done it a few times before with Ghost King AU’s I believe, mainly because I think that avoiding that trope for that particular post would make people flex their creativity more and write something they wouldn’t even have thought of if not given that limitation. This will sometimes work. Some folks reblog the post without the tag and the trope is posted anyways. People also might see the tag and think you’re being picky and rude and avoid the post entirely.

4.) Complain. I don’t really recommend doing this because people will Not Be Pleased but I am 100% guilty of doing this more than once. I have been pretty vocal on making my opinions clear on: Danny and Bruce’s relationship could also be something other than paternal, the automatic adoptions tropes, Ghost King AU’s, OP Danny, and not consuming some form of DC media is nigh impossible and actively avoiding it prevents you from learning about new characters and giving you new interests and ideas to spread and influence the fandom. This is the second least effective action to do. The first being saying nothing. Venting might be a good way to express frustration but let’s be honest, no one wants to listen to or read someone complaining for a few hundred words when they could be consuming a positive take on something they enjoy. For example: this post might get like 50 notes maybe max. It’s not a topic people like to read of and it’s critical on the things they like so they probably won’t interact with it.

5.) Add back onto your own post or another persons post with the idea of how you thought the post should have gone! If you don’t like the angle other folks are going at it, write your own thoughts on the prompt. A few solid paragraphs of ~500 words are what I have seen work the best in influencing and changing the direction of replies to a post. This is the best course of action to have people write another direction in tropes you enjoy and ideas you view are fresh and new. It might not be people’s favorite response to hear, but if you want a story to go a particular way, you have to write it yourself and hope the audience receives it well and picks up what you’re putting down.

6.) Write something similar again and hope a different audience receives the post and interprets it differently. Add a different spin on the concept and maybe add the (no ____) tag if you really really want something different.

I hope these tips help! Main takeaways if you don’t want to read everything: Complaining solves nothing and action solves everything. If you don’t like the way a post is going, write it to the way you want it to be.

[gigidragonbbxxx]

regarding mental diet

discipline. consistency. THIS IS HOW YOU MANIFEST.

it is the discipline and consistency in acknowledging the things in your 3D that you want and ignoring the stuff that you do not identify with.

Yes Gigi, we know that why are you saying something EVERYONE says?

bc dear reader and loass community, i'm gonna say something that might be known but I don't see stated enough:

To be a master manifester, you break your old realities and create new ones - AND A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME GETTING ON THIS LEVEL BECAUSE THEY ARE UNWILLING TO LET GO OF HABITS THAT DO NOT SERVE THEM.

AKA = YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

You hear me???

YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

AND THIS IS WHAT MENTAL DIET IS: NOT GIVING IN TO EVERY TREND, EVERY LIL SONG, EVERY TV SHOW, ETC. IF IT DOES NOT HELP YOUR MIND BE SATURATED WITH BEING IN YOUR FAVOR.

I'll cite an example many of us go through: a friend who doesn't know the law and only wants to talk about how horrible men are. This friend is also addicted to complaining. What have so many loass practicing people have said? They've either 1) told that friend they don't want to talk about that stuff or 2) spent less time with that friend.

it's an experience so many in the community go through and many benefit from limiting their exposure to that type of person. because what is the point of spending time affirming lies like "life has to be hard" "life is unfair" "I always get treated like shit by men" "I'm never first choice" like EW!? guys, learn to get the ICK from this type of talk!!! there is no benefit from this energy.

YOU GET TO DECIDE WHAT YOU WANT TO EXPOSE YOURSELF TO. SO STOP MINGLING WITH ENERGY THAT DOES NOT SERVE YOU. IF YOU HAVE TIME TO THINK BADLY, YOU HAVE TIME TO THINK POSITIVELY!!!

Be willing to WALK AWAY. Be willing to be the one to say "This is not for me" if a convo is full of limited beliefs. Be willing to not participate in trends like making tiktoks about self deprecating jokes or tweet about toxic things. Be willing to say "Oh i never say those things about myself."

Let me explain what prompted me to write this:

I saw THE CUTEST lil key chains or cases made by a small business. I love to reblog cute things on my main account on twt (not my loass burner) and tbh I've manifested getting some of those cute things by making a lil placebo that whatever I retweet is mine/fact.

The first case/keychain thing was "Tummy Ache Survivor" which I thought was hilarious as I have a lot of Virgo energy in my life but the second image showcased another that said something along the lines of "Daily Dose of Dumb Baby Juice".

Guys.

Please.

Does a master manifester drink dumb baby juice? Or is she the operant power full of knowledge and wisdom leading a fulfilling life?

Now, I'm not a limiting typa gal okay? You can totally be "baby". You can totally live a soft live. Be a baby. Hell, I love being baby in a relationship. What I'm saying is even seemingly "harmless" things like that phrase...you have to have discernment in what could be unfavorable influences in your life.

Again, Gigi isn't telling you how to live your life. If you wanna declare "fuck off Gigi! I'm a dumb baby AND I manifest!" go ahead. If you wanna declare "fuck off Gigi! I can consume ANY CONTENT I want and manifest!" GO AHEAD.

BUT LETS DISCUSS SOME OBSERVATIONS IVE MADE ABOUT THE BIGGEST LOA COACHES/ACCOUNTS WITH THE MOST SUCCESS:

all of them. 100% of them. are careful about what they expose themselves to/say about themselves.

BECAUSE DOMINANT BELIEFS ARE WHAT MANIFESTS. SO WHY WASTE TIME CONSUMING CONTENT THAT GOES AGAINST WHAT YOU WANT YOUR DOMINANT THOUGHT PATTERN TO BE? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!

and I get the resistance to cut off things you mightve enjoyed. But i said it before and I'll repeat it again.

YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

things gigi had to cut off:

sad songs on daily playlists

reality tv glorifying toxicity in relationships

accounts on twt that leaned heavily on "men are trash" mindset

conversations that were self-deprecating

and more but those are a few examples.

and you know what I have more time to do now, reader?

I have more time to affirm, to listen to subs, to write on this blog.

Because Manifestion is a Lifestyle. It's not a quick fix bc the outcome depends on the SOLIDITY of your BELIEF to enact CHANGE on the 3D.

so pls don't drink dumb baby juice. drink pretty girl juice. drink intelligent master manifester juice. drink "in my favor" juice.

with laughs and love, xx, gigi

p.s. I do not believe that this is an excuse to remain ignorant about world events and news. I encourage you to remain informed, intelligent people who do not lack awareness and instead are fully immersed in the nuance of balancing high self-esteem and understanding the political climate.

[zelphin124]

SeasonTale Creative Challenge

PLEASE REBLOG SO EVERYONE CAN SEE THIS!

Art and Design by PrinceTal

Greetings, Artists, Voice Actors, and Writers! It is I, Zelphin, and I am hosting an (annual?) competition! Introducing the first year of the SeasonTale Creative Challenge! 

This is a competition to express your creative talents by contributing to SeasonTale for a cash prize! There are three ways to participate: Art, Voice Acting, and Writing! Contribute some time to use one of the three involving SeasonTale to enter the challenge for the prize!

DEADLINE IS NOV 15th, 2023, 12:00 AM (GMT-6)

my birthday hehe~

Winners will be announced on December 1st!

Updates are in #scc info

Scroll down for details!

Rules

It must be a SeasonTale Sans. (I might do other characters from SeasonTale another year)

You MUST tag #SeasonTale Challenge and @zelphin124 in the post so I can see it! Or DM me on Discord!

You CAN do more than one submission (one per Sans for VA, two for writing)

You CAN do the Season Sanses interacting with OCs or popular Sanses, get creative!

DIFFERENT/SIMPLER OUTFITS ARE ALLOWED! I know they are a pain to draw...

You CANNOT steal/copy from other creators!

Please keep all content PG-13

Payments will be made via PayPal (unless negotiated otherwise)

Specific rules within the Google doc!

Prizes

All prizes are in USD currency!

Artists

First place: $55

Second place: $35

Third place: $20

VAs and Writers

First place: $40 

Second place: $30

Third place: $20

Prompts

Summer flirting with literally anyone

Particularly a feisty character

Spring cooking with Swap/Horror

Spring loves cooking Japanese Ramen

Autumn being a gremlin, as usual

Usually being feisty while training or hissing at a cat (he’s scared of cats)

Winter meeting your OC/you in the snowy mountains of SeasonTale

The Four Sanses in a training session

The four Sanses exploring a new AU

Spring comforting someone

Summer flirting with someone

Autumn getting frustrated at someone being annoying and telling them to go away

Winter is an awkward teddy bear trying to organize something

Ft. Iro!Sans for a female character/female voice actors!

Make something up! Be creative! Have fun!

Need more details? Here's the Google Doc:

References

Art and Design PrinceTal

Oh and Iro!Sans

HAVE FUN! I'm so excited to see what you all come up with!

Been dying to do this for a long time~

[jewsinfandoms]

"Colours"

What is “Jews In Fandoms”? Jews have long been part of fandoms and this prompt list will celebrate our love and passion for our favourite things. Whether it’s fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, meta analysis, fan recipes - you name it, we’ll take it. The main requirement is that all entries must involve Judaism in a positive way.

How does it work? Every second Sunday we will announce a new prompt. You will have time until the next prompt to write, draw, cosplay, sing or contribute in any other way, as long as it is related to the prompt. Please remember to tag your creation with all the appropriate content warnings and triggers.

Post it on your Tumblr account, and don't forget to tag us @jewsinfandoms, so we will reblog it before announcing the next prompt in a showcase post.

Who can post to the AO3 collection? Everybody! You may add your entry for the JIF prompts, or older works that are Judaism related. The collection is moderated, so it might take us a while to approve your work. Here is the LINK.

The winter is almost behind us (at least for those in the north Hemisphere), and nature is blooming in thousand and one colours. Will you write about the flowers Sherlock brings to Watson for Saturday, and the meaning of their colours? Or maybe about the dresses shown in Pride and Prejudice? If Captain Planet and the Planeteers will have another magic ring, what colour will it be?

We accept all fandoms. So long as your fanwork meets our other requirements, follow your hearts’ desire!

NOTE: This space is Zionist-friendly. Israel is a huge part of Judaism and home to half of the world’s Jewish population. Your work doesn’t have to involve politics, but please be respectful of this integral connection.

No fandom-bashing and/or ship-bashing. Again, be respectful.

You do not have to be Jewish to participate, but you must be an ally to Jewish people.

Here is the masterlist of the last prompt, "Masquerade".

[bravelyseriescollabs]

BRAVELY WEEK 2025 - PROMPT LIST

The prompts for Bravely Week 2025 are here! 

May 29th - Asterisks / End Layer (post apocalypse)

May 30th - Heroes of Light / Sleep

May 31st - Villains / School & College

June 1st - Creatures of Luxendarc / Collab

June 2nd - Crystals (Elements) / Past & Future

June 3rd - Brave & Default / Role Swap

June 4th - Bravely Music / Headcanons

June 5th - BRAVELY DEFAULT

The event runs from May 29th - June 5th, and I would ask that you don’t post pieces until the week of the event, as I might miss them if they’re posted earlier! 

The prompts were selected by a popularity poll, and I have tried to mix them up so that the most popular prompts for Bravely and general do not fall on the same day! In the event of a tie, a random number picker was used.

Guidelines:

Drawing, writing, and other types of media (cosplay, 3D etc.) welcome! (No AI-generated submissions)

You may include as many characters as you like from any of the mainline Bravely titles (Bravely Default/Second/Default II), and any of the mobile spin-offs. Please keep your submissions Bravely related.

No character limit/reservations necessary - everybody can use Ringabel if everybody wants to use Ringabel

Interpret the prompts however you want, and feel free to ask/discuss if you would like clarification

No NSFW submissions will be shared to this account

You may fill out as many or as few prompts as you wish

Bravely spoilers are fine, but if you use another franchise for any prompts (e.g. for the asterisk prompt, drawing the cast of Octopath Traveler with asterisks), please tag all spoilers for other media you use! (Harmful media will not be accepted)

The 'collab' prompt specified artists collaborating with writers in the polls, but feel free to mix it up if you'd prefer, as long as submissions include two or more creators!

During the week, please submit your pieces using #bravelyweek25 on bluesky/tumblr, and clearly state which prompt you have used! I will reblog/repost your piece on the corresponding day (if I don’t, please DM me or @/misede here, as I haven’t seen it)

Late and old pieces welcome!

Submissions that fail to comply to the guidelines may not be accepted. The use of AI or hateful imagery and media will result in a block.

[starglitterz]

♡ AMERICANO.

❝ baby, take a chance on me! give me one sign and you will see. // crushing on the local barista ❞

✧ feat : xiao x gn!reader

✧ a/n : FIRST POST OF THE YEAR!! yk it had to be my beloved xiao <3 here's to a fourth year with my baby hehe

✧ note : this is a very late entry to ying's cafe week for the prompt americano !

please reblog w tags + leave comments ! it rlly makes my day :)

“uh, hi. could i please get a…” you flash what you’re certain is the most awkward grin of your life at the poor barista, who’s currently running the cashier as well. you swear you’re never the type to hold up a queue, pondering for ages over what to drink to get – in fact, you always get the exact same drink. it’s just that the way the barista’s pretty amber eyes almost seem to gleam in the late afternoon sun has you stumbling over your words, barely able to form coherent sentences; it’s so embarrassing you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, you're lucky there's no one else in the line behind you.

“your usual?” he raises an eyebrow, a few strands of jade hair tumbling out of his loose bun to frame his face, and holy archons this man is such a masterpiece he belongs in a museum. you gape at him for a few seconds, opening and closing your mouth like a goldfish before you realise how stupid you must look and you scramble for a reply, “how do you know?!” the corner of his lips quirk up into what might be a smile, “you order the same drink every time.” you’re fumbling for a retort when he continues, “and you come here three times a day.” now you’re ninety-nine percent certain your face is on fire.

“that’s true…” you mutter sheepishly before making a valiant attempt to defend yourself, “but maybe i just really like coffee!” “i think you drink too much coffee,” he chuckles softly as he writes your name on the cup. you’re freaking out over the fact that what has to be the world’s cutest barista is actually aware of your existence, he recognises you instead of seeing you as just another customer from the endless throngs of students that flock to the campus coffee shop daily. then you gasp, “wait. how do you know my name?!” he lifts an eyebrow once more, “i just told you that you order coffee here three times a day. you say your name every time.” great. now he definitely thinks you’re an idiot. it’s not your fault that all your braincells seem to fly out of your head every time you see him!

“oh.” you laugh weakly as you pull your wallet out of your bag, “that makes sense.” mentally, you’re slamming your head against the wall, cursing yourself for being so head-over-heels that you can’t even carry a normal conversation with the barista. as he types your total, he suddenly murmurs so softly that you have to struggle to catch it, “it’s a pretty name, though.” “o-oh, you think so?” the compliment makes your brain short-circuit, but thankfully you manage a proper response, “i like your name too… xiao.” saying his name out loud almost makes you spontaneously burst into flames, which honestly would be pretty inconvenient for the rest of the customers in the coffee shop. not to mention you doubt it would endear you to xiao if you exploded in the middle of his workplace.

you aren't sure if it's just your imagination, but you think that xiao's ears look a little red as he taps on the screen in front of him. then he clears his throat, “you know what, today's drink is on the house.” “what?! really?!” your eyes light up and xiao meets your gaze for a split second before looking away, the faintest pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he starts making your drink, “yeah.” your heart's beating at a million miles per hour from just this small interaction, but you swallow your nerves and give yourself a pep talk as you wait to receive your drink. you never know unless you try, right?

and as xiao turns to give your drink, you blurt, “icouldtakeyououtonadate!” he blinks slowly, cat-like, and furrows his brow in confusion, “sorry, what did you say?” doing your best not to melt into a puddle on the ground, you mumble, “to make up for the free coffee, i could take you out to lunch or something.” there’s a pause, and you quickly continue, “only if you want to, of course!” you're cursing yourself for even daring to be so bold, there's no way he'd want to go out with a caffeine addict like you- “i'd like that.” his reply is so unexpected you look at him incredulously, “what?” “i said, i’d like to go for lunch with you,” now xiao's face is bright red, and he's gripping your coffee cup so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

at this point, you think that you could jump over the moon. “oh! that's great!” you beam, and xiao thinks that your smile is like the sun, “maybe sunday?” “sure,” he smiles, and it's the most adorable thing you've ever seen, “it's a date.” he turns away after saying that to hide his blush, and with the biggest, cheesiest grin on your face you reply, “yeah, it's a date.”

(and later when you finally drink your coffee, you realise xiao has scribbled his number on the side of the cup. maybe all this time you were crushing on the local barista, he was crushing on you too.)

wahhh i missed writing 🥹 i tried something new with this one, i usually prefer writing confident and flirty readers so i hope this is okay for a first time hehehe. hope you enjoyed! <3

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[aller-geez]

hii, saw your last reblog, the bronchitis scenario, and now i need a svelex fic/art about it 🙏🙏

Hey there Nonny! Okay I literally love you sm for this req, bc usually I don’t write dramatic fics, (and granted, this might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I digress…)

But oh my god, this is definitely my favorite Svelex fic to date, although @thekinkyleopard may disagree whenever she comes back and reads the 300 fics I’ve written since she’s been online 😂

It’s not technically a snzfic cause the prompt was about bronchitis, but definitely very whumpy at least •⩊• so I hope you enjoy it!

I also was so excited to post it that I didn’t really draw a cover, I just slapped some text on a gif so there’s that ˙ᵕ˙ 2.5k words

⤹ The prompt nonny is referring to is this one ⤸

This was supposed to be a kind of a follow up for Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness found here, but doesn’t actually have any context so do with that what you will~

Elex had never been good at handling emotions. Anger? That was easy. Frustration, violence, resentment? Second nature. But this—this tight, twisting feeling in his chest as he sat on their couch, cradling S7en’s overheated, miserable body against him—this was something else entirely.

The kid was burning up, fever pressing into Elex’s skin through the thin, sweat-damp fabric of his hoodie. His hands, calloused and rough from years of fights and harder living, felt clumsy as they adjusted the nebulizer mask over S7en’s flushed face. The mist curled out from the edges, visible in the dim glow of the TV’s silent menu screen. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting here, but his legs were going numb under S7en’s weight—not that he gave a shit.

The wheezing was bad. Worse than bad.

Every breath S7en managed to pull in rattled through his lungs like broken glass, thick and wet and wrong. It was the kind of sound that made something animal deep in Elex’s gut tighten in instinctive dread. This was bad. Too fucking bad.

S7en stirred against him, whimpering softly in his sleep before a cough wracked through him, convulsing his thin frame so hard Elex had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. The coughing fit went on longer than it should have, deep and raw, until S7en made this awful little sound—like he was drowning. Elex clenched his jaw, shifting his mate just enough to rub slow, grounding circles against his fevered back.

"Easy, dumbass," he muttered, voice lower than usual, almost gentle. “Breathe through it.”

Not that S7en had much of a choice.

His breath hitched weakly, another wheeze scraping its way out before he slumped heavier against Elex’s chest, boneless and exhausted. His head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the crook of Elex’s shoulder, mouth falling slack with hoarse, congested snores that were barely distinguishable from his wheezing.

Elex swore under his breath.

This was not just bronchitis anymore. He’d seen S7en sick plenty of times—hell, the guy caught everything like a damn sponge—but this? This was the worst yet. Every inhale sounded like a battle, and every exhale took just a little too long to come.

Elex wasn’t a doctor. Didn’t know shit about medical stuff, other than how to patch up a knife wound or pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. But he knew what it looked like when someone couldn’t fucking breathe.

His fingers found their way back into S7en’s sweat-drenched hair, combing through the tangled mess with slow, deliberate motions.

“Geezus fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You really don’t do shit halfway, huh?”

S7en whined softly in response, shifting just enough to bury himself further against Elex like he was seeking out his warmth. Elex let him.

He’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he just—kept—breathing.

The badger was out of his depth.

He could handle a lot—had handled a lot. Fights. Crime. The constant weight of hiding who he really was. But this? Watching S7en struggle just to breathe in his arms, his chest barely rising before another wet, strained wheeze forced its way through his lungs—this was worse than any fight he’d ever been in.

The nebulizer wasn’t helping. The mist curled and dissipated into the thick air of their apartment, but S7en’s breathing wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, it was getting worse.

Elex gritted his teeth, eyes darting down to the weak rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest. Too slow. Too shallow. Every inhale was a war, every exhale a desperate, failing attempt to clear the congestion that clung like tar in his lungs.

And he wasn’t winning.

"Hey." Elex shook him gently, trying to rouse him. "S7en. Wake the fuck up."

Nothing.

S7en barely reacted—just a sluggish twitch of his ears, a pathetic little whimper as another round of coughs rattled through his fragile frame. His head lolled heavier against Elex’s shoulder, burning hot and damp with sweat, his body boneless in a way that sent a bolt of pure panic through Elex’s chest.

No. No, no, no. This was bad. So fucking bad.

He pressed his fingers against S7en’s ribs, feeling the sharp, stuttering way his breath refused to move properly, how his body worked too hard for air that just wasn’t coming.

"Fuck," Elex hissed under his breath, his grip tightening.

He should’ve seen this coming. The second that fever started climbing, the second the wheezing didn’t ease up after the first treatment—he should’ve done something. But he’d let S7en convince him it was fine, that he’d been through worse, that he didn’t need to go to the damn hospital.

And he believed him.

Like a fucking idiot.

Another strangled noise clawed out of S7en’s throat, half-cough, half-miserable gasp, and his body jolted weakly against Elex’s chest. His breath hitched. Then hitched again.

And then—stopped.

For one horrific second, there was silence.

Elex’s blood ran cold.

"Sven—!"

A choking, rasping inhale suddenly tore through the quiet, and S7en shuddered hard against him, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. His hands jerked where they were limp in his lap, weakly gripping at Elex’s hoodie like he was trying to ground himself.

The breath wheezed out of him in a shaky, half-conscious moan of pain, his chest rising in uneven, frantic movements as his body fought violently to breathe again.

"Shit, shit, shit—stay with me, kid, come on—" Elex muttered, shifting to get a better hold on him, his own heartbeat a rapid-fire thud in his ears.

S7en was barely clinging to awareness, his lashes fluttering against fever-flushed cheeks. His lips, normally some shade of cocky smirk, were pale—too pale.

Elex had seen enough.

Fuck stubbornness. Fuck whatever argument S7en was gonna put up when he got dragged into the ER. They were going.

Now.

With an iron grip, Elex hooked an arm under S7en’s legs and lifted him like he weighed nothing—because right now, in this state, he did.

S7en groaned weakly at the sudden movement, head lolling against Elex’s shoulder. His tail, usually flicking with irritation or mischief, just hung limp.

Elex’s jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, adjusting his hold as he strode toward the door. "But you don’t get a choice, kid."

And with that, he kicked the door open, disappearing into the cold, night air, S7en burning fever-hot against him the whole way down to his car.

Elex barely registered the sound of the car door slamming shut behind him as he maneuvered S7en into the passenger seat. His grip was too tight, too urgent, his fingers digging into S7en’s burning skin as he wrestled the seatbelt across his trembling frame. His breathing was still so wrong—fast and shallow, like his body was trying to compensate for what his lungs refused to give him.

“Stay with me, kid,” Elex muttered under his breath, fumbling with the belt buckle before finally clicking it into place. S7en didn’t respond. His head lolled against the window, his fluffy ears twitching slightly but otherwise unmoving.

Elex didn’t like that. He didn’t fucking like that.

His breath was coming fast, sharp through clenched teeth, but the only sound he was really hearing was the wheezing. The sick, labored pull of S7en's breath, like a fucking broken accordion barely holding together.

“Fucking hell,” Elex snarled under his breath, slamming the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame before bolting around the hood of the car and throwing himself into the seat. The keys shook in his hand as he shoved them into the ignition—too hard—the metallic clang echoing through the car before he twisted them with a forceful jerk. The engine roared to life, but Elex barely heard it over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

A string of curses tumbled under the badger’s breath as he slammed the gear shift into drive and tore out of the driveway, the tires shrieking as they lurched forward. He wasn’t supposed to be driving, but fuck that. Fuck everything.

He wasn’t about to let this stupid, stubborn cat die on him.

His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. His eyes kept darting between the road and S7en, glancing over every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing.

His chest still rising? Yeah. Okay. Fuck.
But how long could he keep that up?

"Just hold on, S7en," Elex muttered, foot pressing harder on the gas. "We're almost there."

S7en had been so still, so out of it, that when he suddenly sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath and jolted forward with a strangled choke, Elex nearly swerved off the road.

"Geezus—!"

S7en gasped again, curling in on himself, his orange ears flattened completely as his claws scrabbled weakly across the fabric of his seatbelt. His breaths were shallow, coming way too fast, way too wrong.

Panic.
He was panicking.

"Hey, hey, hey—Sven—!" Elex reached over without thinking, resting a firm hand against S7en’s chest, feeling the uneven, frantic rise and fall beneath his palm. "You're okay. You're alright, just breathe, babe. Breathe slow."

S7en blinked blearily, his pupils blown wide in the dim glow of the dashboard. His chest stuttered with another ragged breath before he whined, soft and miserable. "Elex…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," Elex said quickly, eyes darting back to the road for a split second before locking onto him again. "We're going to the ER."

S7en’s expression barely shifted, but the little furrow between his brows made Elex know the argument was coming before the hoarse words even left his mouth.

"’m fine," S7en rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the road beneath them. "Don’t need the—"

"Bullshit."

The word came out sharper than he intended. But Elex was done pretending this was fine, that this was something they could just ride out.

S7en flinched at the tone—then slumped back into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut.

He tried again, weaker this time. "Elex—"

"You can’t breathe, S7en."

Silence.

S7en coughed, a horrible, wrecked sound that rattled through his frame and left him panting for air. When he finally opened his eyes again, something had changed in them.

Realization.

Defeat.

And finally—reluctant, unspoken acceptance.

Elex swallowed hard. His grip tightened on the wheel.

S7en didn’t argue again.

Elex was driving like he stole the damn car, which—okay, he had stolen plenty of cars in his life, but S7en’s wasn’t one of them. Still, right now, it felt like he was outrunning something worse than the cops. He was pushing the speed limit, weaving through empty streets with white-knuckled fists, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t outrun the rasping, strained breaths coming from the passenger seat.

S7en’s head lolled against the window, his half-lidded, fever-glossy eyes barely tracking the streetlights as they flashed by. His mouth was parted, sucking in shallow gasps of air that weren’t nearly enough, and Elex could hear the congestion rattling thickly in his chest. Every breath sounded wrong. Too much and not enough at the same time.

Elex tried, just once, to lighten the mood. “Y’know, you bitch at me for my driving, but you’re real quiet right now,” he muttered, flicking a glance over at S7en in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Guess that means I win.”

It was meant to be teasing. Just a distraction.

But then S7en let out the weakest huff of amusement—and it shattered into a coughing fit so violent that his whole body pitched forward, his spine arching against the seatbelt. His face went red, scarlet, as he gasped and choked, his shoulders trembling with the force of each ragged hack. The sound was awful, wet and shredding, like it was scraping raw against his lungs.

“Shit, breathe—” Elex yanked one hand off the wheel, blindly reaching over to rub circles into S7en’s back as he choked. It wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t helping. Elex gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Almost there, kid, just hold on—”

They skidded into the ER parking lot a minute later, Elex slamming the gear into park without even turning off the engine. He whipped around to look at S7en, bracing for a complaint about his driving, about whipping the car around like it was some GTA getaway.

But S7en didn’t say anything.

He just slumped weakly against the window, his usual sharp, Cheshire grin nowhere to be found. His pupils were blown wide, dazed from fever, his breaths shallow and barely moving his chest.

That was not right.

“Fuck—no, fuck that—” Elex was out of the car in a flash, yanking S7en’s door open and hooking an arm around his waist, practically hauling him out of the seat. S7en barely reacted, his legs almost folding under him the second he was upright. His tail drooped, heavy and limp, barely twitching.

That scared Elex more than anything.

He half-carried, half-dragged S7en through the sliding doors of the ER, his heart slamming against his ribs. As soon as they stepped inside, the nurses at the front desk immediately jumped to action.

“S7en? Again?” One of them—Lillian, maybe?—was already reaching for a nebulizer before Elex could even say anything. “What are we working with this time?”

“Bronchitis—maybe pneumonia, I don’t fucking know—” Elex snapped, gripping the back of S7en’s hoodie so tight his nails almost tore through the fabric. “He’s burning up, he can’t breathe, he—”

“We’ve got him.”

That was the only thing they had to say before taking S7en out of his hands, guiding him toward a room like this was routine. And, fuck, it was routine. S7en was in here so often that nobody even blinked. They just got to work.

Before Elex knew it, he was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside S7en’s bed, watching the nurses slip a nebulizer mask over his boyfriend’s face.

The first few minutes were tense—S7en sat there, glassy-eyed and swaying, chest still rattling—but after a while, the mist started working its way into his lungs. His shoulders slumped, his body slowly unwinding, like his muscles had been clenched so tight for so long that he forgot how to not be in pain.

Elex sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at him in silence. Just waiting. Watching.

S7en’s ears twitched first. Then his tail. Then his orange eyes—bleary, but focused—flicked toward Elex, catching him staring.

“…y’look like you’ve seen a ghost,” S7en murmured, voice still wrecked but a little stronger.

Elex scoffed, raking a hand through his green hair. “…Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly breathin’ a few minutes ago, dumbass.”

S7en blinked slowly, processing. Then, to Elex’s absolute horror, his lips curled into a soft, lopsided grin.

“Worried about me?”

“No.”

S7en hummed, tipping his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. “Liar.”

Elex didn’t dignify that with a response. He just exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders finally losing some of the tension they’d been carrying for hours.

For now, at least, S7en was breathing.

Elex would deal with whatever came next.

The end 🖤

[jrow]

Well friends, I did it. We did it. There is such incredible talent in this community and it really shone through this month. I have only scratched the surface and am so excited to read more! I am so proud (yes!) that my little story has been part of this wonderful May Prompts 2024. Thank you to everyone who commented or liked or reblogged. I wasn’t sure I would be able to manage this, but the engagement really spurred me forward, even on those days there was seemingly no time to write. And a super thank you to @calaisreno for the wonderful prompts. They were so fun to play with but kept me on my toes. On more than one occasion, I thought I knew where the story was going, but the prompt pulled me in another direction. I will be posting the full shebang to ao3 and will share the link when I do. Thanks again!

May Prompts (31)

Day 30 here. Start at the beginning here.

Pride (an epilogue)

He’s about to burst from pride.

A year ago, the sheer magnitude of the feeling would have been shocking, but now … well, when you live with a little one as brilliant as Rosie, you feel pride a lot.

It’s her end of year ballet recital. He had been hesitant about signing her up for the “butterfly ballet” class—worried about strict instructors and judgment and tears. But, John had insisted and been proven right. It could barely be called ballet—watching the class reminded him of the second law of thermodynamics—but at the end of every session, Rosie would beam and twirl her way home, firmly on cloud nine.

And now the recital. She has been talking about it all week and the excitement had her up at five this morning. John thought it might be overkill to invite Molly and Gavin along with Mrs. Hudson, but was overruled by the star herself. And so they were all here. Mycroft was never formally told of the event, but had arrived at the small church hall right on time, with a bouquet of two dozen pink roses in hand. His brother never does things by halves.

Little Isla, Jordan, and Anna are currently centre stage, beaming in the spotlight. They are doing fine, he supposes, although Isla is far from the prodigy her mother seems to think she is.

And then there is Rosie, dancing from the far back corner, smile a mile wide. She had started at the front but quickly ran to the back when she saw that Taha was too nervous to come on stage. So now, Rosie is dancing with all she has, while holding the hand of the little boy, who has been coaxed halfway onto the stage.

Occasionally, Taha will look at Rosie like she hung the moon.

No, this is a new level pride. He truly might burst.

Halfway through, Rosie leans down and whispers something to her friend. The boy nods and takes a small step right, so that he is now almost entirely on the stage.

Anna’s mother, who is sitting in front of John, turns around. “You two are doing something right!” she says with a grin before returning her focus to the stage.

The music crescendos and, for a second, it’s all too much. The sounds, the lights, the feelings bigger than he thought possible. He closes his eyes for a moment, to settle.

“Open your eyes,” John whispers.

It’s said with such earnest that he immediately complies. And there is Rosie, waving with her free hand and smiling like this is the greatest day there’s ever been. Maybe it is. He waves back along with the rest of her little entourage. She laughs.

John beams and grabs his hand. “Maybe we are doing something right.”

He looks down at their entwined hands and then up on the stage at the little girl. His little girl. “Yes, I think we are.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[slayersweek]

2024 SLAYERS SECRET SANTA INFO AND SIGNUP FORM:

Hello! Please read over the following before signing up. Thank you!

What ‘Secret Santa’ Means: You create a fanwork, and you’ll receive one in return. Everyone who wishes to participate will provide prompts that they’d like to see completed, and another participant will be assigned their prompts and will complete one of those prompts (which one is completed is up to the person they’re assigned to).

When you submit your prompts, you are welcome (and encouraged) to tell me anything you are uncomfortable with or don’t wish to do (pairings, genre, rating, etc), that way the prompts you’re given are something you’re comfortable writing/drawing.

Rules and Regulations:

1) Watch this tumblr!  If you do not have a tumblr yourself, please put it in your bookmarks and remind yourself to check it often.

2) Can I ask for ____?  You can ask for whatever you want- rating, genre, etc. However, please keep in mind that if you’re asking for something super unusual, you might want to provide some broader prompts as well.

3) How long do I have to signup?  Signups will end on Saturday, November 30, 2024. That is all month to sign up!!

4) When is the deadline?  Please have your piece completed and posted by Friday, January 31, 2025. You can post your gift anytime starting from Wednesday, December 25, 2024.

5) How do I post it?  Post it in your own tumblr and link it to us or tag us (@slayersweek) so we can reblog it over here. You may link to where your fanwork is posted off tumblr (to livejournal, dreamwidth, ff.net, ao3, deviantart, etc) in your post.

6) How long does fic have to be?  At least eight hundred words. It doesn’t need to be super-long of course, but we want everyone to get something that’s more than drabble length.

7) Are there any extra requirements for the art?  It can be done in any medium (digital, colored pencil, copic, sketch, etc). Just remember that this is a gift for someone, so make sure it’s a completed piece!

8) Can I do fancomics?  Yes. Absolutely.

9) What if I need to drop out?  Then I would ask you to please let me know as soon as possible (and before the December 25th deadline) so we can arrange a pitch hitter for you. Failure to notify me will ban you from future events.

10) What is a pitch hitter?  If someone has to drop out, I’d still like their giftee to get a gift. A pitch hitter is someone who is willing to do a second fanwork in order to make sure no one goes without a gift.

11) What type of prompts should I give?  Prompts can be anything from something vague like “Lina, Gourry, Amelia, and Zelgadis exchange gifts,” “Sylphiel and Martina go to the beach” to something specific like “I’d like to see a fic where Lina and Gourry are pulled into an undersea world. The two end up facing an ancient source of magic, and they must team up with many witch and wizard allies. I’d like if it featured Lina/Gourry and Zelgadis/Amelia, and if possible… some Filia/Valgaav? A happy ending, please!” You must submit a minimum of three prompts or I cannot fairly give your requests to your Santa.

Please make them more than a characters name. It does not have to be Christmas themed and you do not have to be detailed, but give people something to work with!

12) I have another question!  Then please ask it via our askbox (anon asks are enabled).

Okay, I’m ready to signup! Please copy and paste the below form and submit it to the SlayersWeek inbox to sign up.

GIVING: Tumblr Username: Email or Alternate Contact:   Specialty (Fanfic or Fanart- If you can do both, you may list both): Highest Rating You’ll Work With: Will Not Work With (Any characters, pairings, genres, scenarios, you won’t do): RECEIVING: Do Not Want (Any characters, pairings, ratings, genres, scenarios, etc you don’t want to receive): Do You Prefer fic, art, or no preference?: Three Prompts: 1) 2) 3) Can you pitch hit if someone drops out?:

Please SUBMIT your completed form HERE. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to this blog HERE, or to my personal HERE.