#e writes

[joelslegalwhre]

Thank you sm! And thanks for the request love, i hope you like it <3

Destiny

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.5k

summary⁀➷ Geralt finds you injured in the woods (more in the ask)

warnings⁀➷ soft!geralt, fluff, mention of blood and injuries, swearing (only once tho), use of y/n once

a/n⁀➷ As always, tell me if I missed a warning please!

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

You had expected this day to be different. You were supposed to help your uncle and learn more about herbology so that one day, you would know as much as he does about taking care of the people in the village.

Not lying here, on the slightly damp forest ground.

It would be a long walk back to the village, and your wounds and aches would not make it any easier. Your limbs felt heavy. Your body ached. And before you could fight back, you were defeated by tiredness.

Your eyes opened abruptly as you became aware of sounds coming closer and closer to you. A horse was coming towards you, on it an incredibly muscular man who looked familiar to you.

You had never met him before, but when he came closer and you saw his bright amber eyes, you knew who he was, what he was.

When he saw you, lying there on one of the big roots, he quickly got off his horse.

"Wait here, Roach." he told the horse.

Fear washed over you as he slowly approached you.

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. But witchers could hear better than ordinary people, he had heard it clearly enough.

The witcher stopped for a second and seemed… offended? He shook his head slightly and looked you in the eyes.

"I won't hurt you." His voice was low. Incredibly deep.

There was sincere in his voice, it almost gave you goosebumps.

He was terribly attractive, and his eyes both frightened and fascinated you. He came closer and closer to you and you could only follow him with your eyes. Your fear had eased a little, but it wasn't completely gone.

"It's not that bad," you said quietly as his eyes examined your wound. "I just need to rest a bit before I-" you made a hissing sound as he lifted the fabric covering the wound. "You are not fine." he grumbled.

He knew you wouldn't be able to walk one step on your own without collapsing. As the witcher walked to his horse and took an elixir-like phial from one of the pockets, he asked,

"What happened to you, who did this?" his voice almost sounded angry. But not because of you.

"I was gathering herbs. My uncle needs them to medicate the people in the village. And-" you had to swallow at the thought of the attack.

"There were three-three men. They were looking for someone." The witcher grimaced in anger, as if he already knew what they wanted.

"They wanted to know where the Butcher of Blaviken was."

He said nothing but an annoyed "hmm," his hand still holding the fabric so as not to cover the wound on your hip.

The witcher looked you in the eye, and up close, his own ones were even more special.

"Don't move." he demanded and you nodded. Then he dripped some of the elixir into the wound. It burned like fire.

"Ahh fuck!" you had to bite your lip to stop swearing. "It'll be over in a moment." He took your hand and nodded at you encouragingly. You squeezed his hand so hard that your fingers almost started to hurt.

"Breathe, can you do that for me?" He spoke so calmly and collectedly. You looked at him again, his gaze never leaving your face the whole time. Then you took a deep breath, as deep as you could under the pain. And as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again.

You were breathing heavily and it felt like you had been running for hours. The witcher bandaged your wound and looked you in the eyes again. The fear you normally had of his kind, fear that was taught as a child, was now completely gone. If he hadn't come to find you, you would still be lying here now and would probably faint in no time.

He had saved you.

"What's your name?" you asked the witcher quietly as he lowered the bloody piece of cloth onto the tended and protected wound. He inhaled sharply. "It's okay if you don't-" you started but he spike over you. "Geralt of Rivia." He replied.

Your lips parted a little. You blinked in surprise as you looked at him. Geralt had gotten up and walked to his horse to put the vial back. Quietly you whispered, "The Butcher of Blaviken."

He turned to face you, "I'm sorry they attacked you."

You were astonished, because you didn't expect an apology. Actually, he had nothing to apologise about either. After all, the men were not acting on his orders.

You smiled at him weakly. Suddenly everything felt so exhausting, breathing, being able to see, everything.

"It's the potion," Geralt answered your unasked question. "It makes you tired, to heal your wounds in your sleep."

"Oh." you said softly, before you felt two strong arms lift you up. Then you fell asleep.

Geralt entered the small village on Roach, and you laying safely in his arms.

All conversation died down when they noticed the witcher.

However, when they saw you in his arms, some began to whisper.

„He's a witcher!" "What does he want with her?" "Did he kill her?" "Where did he come from?"

Geralt knew exactly where to take you. A healer was usually quick to find, but especially in such a small village. "Stop Roach."

He got down, careful not to hurt you.

Your uncle opened the door before Geralt could knock, but when he saw you, his face paled. "Y/N-" His gaze went to the blood on your coat then darted to the witcher.

"She needs to lie down." Geralt commanded. He looked at your uncle with a penetrating gaze.

"What have you done to her, Witcher?" There was hatred and disgust in his voice.

"I healed her." Geralt replied dryly.

He pushed past your uncle and quickly found what he was looking for.

He carefully laid you down on the small bed.

Your uncle hurried after the witcher, but when he saw you, he realised that what Geralt had said was true.

Your coat was bloody but the wound looked well taken care of. "I put a potion in her wound, it should work. She'll have to sleep for a while for that to happen though." Geralt sat down on the floor beside your bed and leaned his back against it.

Your uncle looked overwhelmed, but he knew well enough that there was nothing he could do now.

"Thank you, Witcher.".

"Hmm." Geralt simply replied.

While your uncle went to his herbs to make you some tea, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

With a loud gasp, you woke up. You looked around in confusion, as you saw familiar walls and herbs, the ground was softer than before in the forest. As you slowly sat up, leaning on one elbow, you knew you were home.

Something moved beside your bed. No, not something, someone. Geralt stood up and looked at you with a soft gaze. "How are you?" he asked in his deep voice.

Your eyes went to your wound, or to the place where it had been. Your skin was completely healed, no cuts, no blood. You brushed your finger lightly over it, but it didn't even hurt anymore.

"Thank you." you whispered gratefully without really answering his question. "Thank you Geralt."

You stood up and in a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around his strong torso. "Thank you." you mumbled into his chest once more.

Geralt was surprised, and at first he just stared down at you. You still had your arms wrapped around him when he carefully put one arm around your waist, then the other. He smelled terrible but that didn't matter right now.

He had saved you. You looked up at him, still in the embrace. Something in his eyes had changed, his look had changed. You didn't know what it was.

Geralt, however, knew, and he could not suppress it.

The way you looked at him without any fear, how you had thanked him so many times. Nothing even suggested that you thought he was the monster so many people saw him as.

Slowly his arms moved down your back. Your faces were so close that you could see the finest, smallest scars on his face. Geralt could hear your heart beating, not evenly but fast and irregularly. You looked into his amber eyes the ones that had even followed you into your sleep.

His hands pulled you closer and the moment, when his lips met yours, fast yet slow, hungry yet gentle, felt like time had stopped. As if there was only this moment, only the two of you. Your fingers played with Geralt's hair, feeling his strong neck and pulling him down even further towards you.

When you had to gasp for air and your lips parted, he still held you close to him. You bit your lip as you looked at him. Geralt exhaled heavily. "I don't believe in destiny," you whispered. "But you might've changed that."

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[firehouse-buck]

smut below the cut. mdni, 18+. you know the drill.

So, I know that I promised you guys this scenario ages ago, but work got in the way and… yeah. C’est la vie. Anyway, back to our original thirsting.

This shit is filthy. Enjoy it, you heathens.

You and Aaron had been dating a while at this point, about a year roughly. I feel like after Haley, he wouldn’t immediately jump into sex with a new partner. I feel like it would take some time to really let him find his groove in this relationship, adjust to it, and almost… let the dust settle, so to speak.

By this point in your relationship, you two have had sex a handful of times. You guys don’t breed like jackrabbits (we don’t need to mention Aaron’s breeding kink), but he definitely satisfies your needs. Now, don’t get you wrong, sex with Aaron is fucking amazing. Your man is very generous lover; he even has a rule of a two-orgasm minimum. Aaron will not let you leave the bed before he makes you cum a second time, sometimes a third. However, as much as you love Aaron, you have to admit that he falls into a bit of a pattern when it comes to sex.

When you and Aaron are getting hot and heavy, he is always careful about the way he touches you. You’re his baby, so he would never want to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. He is also hyperaware of the fact that he is much bigger than you. I mean, the man is six-two and two-fifty easy. He treats you delicately when he makes love to you, caresses you gently, whispers praises in your ear, and worships every inch of your body like it’s sacred.

You love that Aaron does that for you because it makes you feel beautiful, loved, wanted when he does that. The thing is, he’s this way every time you guys have sex. He is so careful about the way he touches you that it makes you feel like he thinks you can’t handle anything more than that. That is not the case at all.

You love rough sex. Before Aaron, you always made it clear to your partners that they don’t need to be gentle with you in the bedroom, that you prefer it if they weren’t. You lost count of how many times you’ve been spanked, choked, or tied down. And to be honest, you miss the thrill you got from those past experiences. You know that Aaron can’t fix the problem if he doesn’t know there is one, but for some reason, it’s hard to express your kinkier desires to him. He’s different.

So, one random night after a few too many sips of wine, you call Penelope to vent about your current situation. You knew that she would be the best person out of your friends to go to because she’s not afraid to talk about sex. She’s always been very forthcoming with her sexuality. She asks you how you and Aaron are doing, and you tell her that you guys are great, just that you need some advice. You tell her about the conflict that you’re having and ask her what the best way would be to tell Aaron that you want him to rough you up a little bit.

“I just wish that he wouldn’t treat me like I’m made of glass, you know,” you tell her. “I mean, don’t be afraid to slap me and call me cock-hungry whore every once and a while.”

You are so immersed in your conversation with Penelope—which you have on speaker because you were alone and weren’t expecting Aaron back until later—that you didn’t hear Aaron coming home until it was too late. You were in the midst of detailing the things that you would want your boyfriend to do to you, and suddenly, your phone was taken out of your hand. You look up in surprise to see a stony-faced Aaron holding your phone.

“She’ll have to call you back, Garcia,” is all he says before he hangs up.

You give a sheepish smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.” He leans down, bracing his large hands on either side of your head, and he says to you while holding your gaze steady, “Looks like we need to have a talk, little one.”

[garfield-mug]

Ain't Doin' Right (jake seresin x vet tech!OC)

Content Warnings: descriptions of blood and violence, dog attack, panic attack, symptoms of PTSD

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: well, here's everyone's introduction to the jake and junebug universe! hope you like it and hope it's decent. i haven't written a fic in a really long time. i was suuuper rusty. i originally planned something different (along the lines of how these two met), but it wasn't working out and i had to get something out, so i literally powered through this. give a reblog or comment if you liked this one. - E

Having spent fifteen years as a veterinary technician, June was accustomed to hospitals of all kinds. Private practice, general practice, corporate, emergency, wildlife, specialty, and beyond. She was even familiar (and perhaps unfortunately so) with hospitals meant for humans. When you work with animals, injuries are bound to happen. Most could be avoided, usually happening to those with less experience. Alas, accidents happen, even to those who have been in the game longer than most. And June was in the game.

In a field with an incredibly high turnover rate, she’d managed to hang on. It hadn’t been easy. There were a lot of times (and still a few now) where she had seriously contemplated throwing in the towel, but she was nothing if not spiteful. And persistent. And an unabashed optimist at heart (although she fronts as more of a realist). No one and nothing could kill the hope that the veterinary field could become better, and no one could take away the work she’d put in to make it so. Despite her hope and optimism, neither of those things could protect her from having a bad day. And this was a very bad day. Not the worst she’s ever had personally or professionally, but it’s definitely up there. After a lot of futile arguing, June finally conceded to being driven to the emergency room by one of her coworkers (and kind of friend), Sophia. After filling out the incident report form and informing the unfortunate owner of the dog (which June did not do herself), she got into the passenger seat of Sophia’s car.

Her left arm was haphazardly bandaged with some gauze squares, cast padding, and vet wrap (it was pink with purple hearts) after being cleaned up. She was hoping she wouldn’t bleed through the bandage before they got to the hospital, but her hopes weren’t high. Her forearm was littered with deep puncture wounds and two deep lacerations ran up and around the inside toward her elbow. Thankfully, the dog had decided to let go. Otherwise, it would have been much worse. There wasn’t too much blood on her scrubs, miraculously. Holding her arm out away from her body helped with that. June wasn’t feeling the pain of her wounds either, still riding on that burst of adrenaline from almost losing her arm to a massive dog. She was also distracted by the anger she felt the moment it happened and now. It would linger. It always does when accidents like these happen because of the negligence (or ignorance) of someone else. Then, she’ll feel bad for feeling angry because it really wasn’t the assistant’s fault, they’re brand new and still learning. Finally, she’ll be angry with herself for not being more careful and having someone more experienced help her with her task, but you can only do so much when you’re understaffed. FINALLY, finally, she’ll be angry with management and the industry as a whole for even creating circumstances in which to be understaffed.

June is so lost in her thoughts and emotions that she doesn’t hear Sophia’s question.

“June!”

“Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted me to call Jake.”

And then there was Jake. Sweet, caring, protective (maybe to a fault) Jake. The charming, witty, cocky (ahem: confident) man that had somehow wormed his way under her skin and into her heart. They’d been together long enough at this point, about two years. Jake was at work, too, fitting into his instructor position at TOPGUN nicely. He loved being able to teach the new classes of the world’s best fighter pilots, sure, but he equally loved getting to show off just how good he was in the air. He would readily admit the second reason, the first one only June and Javy knew about. Everyone else could figure it out if they thought about it, but Jake would never admit to going soft. He really did love teaching.

June would eventually call him; it was only fair. He was her partner after all. She just didn’t like worrying him, especially when she knew it would affect his performance and ability to be at work. She knew her job was important, but his was, too. She would never forgive herself if he made a mistake in the air because he was distracted thinking about her. Jake thinks about her all the time, whether she’s in the hospital or not. She’s always on his mind the same was he’s always on hers.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to. I’ll call him once we’re actually in a room.”

“That could take hours.” Sophia glances at June with a deadpan expression.

“It’ll be sooner since I’ll most likely be bleeding all over their waiting room.” June looks to the bandage on her arm. She can’t see the blood yet, but she can feel that it hasn’t stopped flowing. Slowed, maybe, but definitely not stopped.

“Well, we’re almost there so hopefully you’re right.”

Sophia pulls the car into the parking lot of the hospital, and they make their way inside.

-

Fifteen minutes later, June and Sophia are led to a bed in the ER. A nurse came over for intake procedures and to assess the damage up close. A brief flash of panic crosses the nurse’s face as she looks down at June’s arm. She must be new, June thinks. June thinks back to when she first started as a tech, working in emergency. She remembers learning how to field her emotions and control her facial expressions. That kind of skill only comes with practice and unfortunately, that practice usually involves seeing and experiencing incredibly fucked up shit.

“On a scale from one to ten, where would you say your level of pain is?” The nurse doesn’t look panicked anymore, but still seems uneasy.

“Probably about a five.”

“A five?”

“Yep.” The nurse types up some notes on her computer.

“Alright, I’ll see about getting you something for the pain.” As she steps out of the room, Sophia turns to June.

“You are being remarkably calm about this whole thing. I don’t think I’d be nearly as lucid, and I’d definitely be crying.”

June shrugs.

“I’ve been through worse. And I’m also really good at compartmentalizing. Plus, I’m still kind of riding on the adrenaline, so I’m sure everything will catch up with me.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” Sophia shakes her head and checks her phone. June sighs.

“Practice.” She falls back against the hard mattress and crisp sheets of the hospital bed.

-

It was another twenty minutes before her nurse came back with some ibuprofen and then ten before June saw a doctor. Safe to say, she was feeling the pain now and was really looking forward to going home. She needed stitches for the longer lacerations, to no one’s surprise.

“How’d this happen?” The doctor seemed nice enough, gently taking June’s arm into her gloved hands.

“Bit by a dog at work, was up to date on rabies vaccinations and so am I.”

“You work in a vet’s office?”

“Sure do,” The doctor nods in response.

“Not the worst I’ve seen, but still pretty bad. Definitely gonna need stiches for these long ones here. Other than that, we’ll get you cleaned up and on an antibiotic.” The doctor gets up and starts getting her supplies ready, stepping away.

“Hey, Soph?”

Sophia looks up from her phone.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind calling Jake for me?” June pulls up his contact on her phone.

“Sure thing,” Sophia takes the device and steps out of the room as the doctor reenters.

“Alright, since we’re doing sutures, I’m gonna apply some lidocaine gel so you don’t feel anything, but first we’re gonna clean these up.”

“Sounds good.” It really did sound good. The ibuprofen was not cutting it anymore and feeling the cut and pull of sutures being placed didn’t sound too appealing. June winces slightly at the first feeling of the saline being flushed into her wounds. It’s a bit cold and uncomfortable, but ultimately bearable. She grits her teeth and muscles through it. After all her wounds have been thoroughly irrigated, the doctor applies the gel and lets it set for a few minutes while she readies her sterile gloves and suture. Sophia enters the room and sets June’s phone by her scrub jacket.

“He’s on his way.”

“Thanks, Soph.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sophia sits back down in the chair next to the bed.

“You can go, if you want.” June looks to Sophia as the doctor asks if she’s ready. June nods, Sophia shakes her head.

“I’ll stay until he gets here, don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Okay then.”

-

The doctor is halfway through closing the second laceration when they all hear heavy footsteps approaching the room. Throwing back the curtain, Jake stands, still in his flight suit, armed with a very concerned expression. He looks at June’s face, then to her arm. His eyes widen, brow furrowing as he brings a hand to rub over his mouth. June can’t help but smile a little.

“Hey,” Her voice is small. Jake walks over to her, squatting down in front of her, so as not to get in the way of the doctor, who is diligently working on suturing the wound closed. He places a hand on her knee. Sophia uses this opportunity to take her leave, giving them both a small wave before heading out.

“Junebug, what happened?” His eyes search her face.

“I trusted a coworker to be good at their job?”

“Junebug,” Jake sighs and closes his eyes.

“Sorry, bad joke,” June looks away for a brief moment, placing her hand over Jake’s.

“Got shredded at work.”

“I can see that. How you feelin’?”

“Been better, but I’ve also been worse.”

It was true, June had been in much worse situations, but that didn’t necessarily take the edge off. What happened today shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and now she has to suffer the consequences. Which hurt like a bitch.

June reaches down with her good arm to cup Jake’s cheek, softly rubbing her thumb over the soft skin. He leans into her touch, grabbing onto her wrist to keep her there. The doctor pipes up, finally finished.

“Alright, looking good. We’ll have your meds ready in a few minutes and then you’ll be good to go.” She stands up, removes her gloves, and leaves the room.

After collecting her antibiotics and filling out some discharge paperwork, June and Jake are on their way home. It’s still quiet between the two. Jake knows she’s exhausted and frustrated, so he doesn’t press with questions. He knows she’ll come to him when she’s ready and he’s learned to be patient. The drive back to the house is uneventful. After getting the door for June and positively too much fretting on the short, short walk from the car to the front door, Jake declares that he’ll take the dogs out so June can shower.

June is incredibly grateful for Jake every day, but particularly on days like today where she just needs help. He would take over dog care duty while she got herself cleaned up and rested. He’d probably order takeout from her favorite place for dinner, knowing it would help her feel better and just be less work. She was looking forward to her shower and stripping off her scrubs. Washing the workday away had become a ritual, especially for days like today. She managed to get undressed fine, only wincing once when the sleeve from her scrub top rubbed a bit too hard down her arm. She steps into the steaming spray and just stands there, staring at the tiled wall ahead of her. She’s not sure how long she stays like that, only that it must’ve been long enough for Jake to have come back from his walk since he was knocking on the door.

“Junebug? You doin’ alright in there?”

June comes back to her senses, rubbing her hands over her face. She groans slightly as she realizes she hasn’t even cleaned up yet.

“Yeah, I’m okay, honey. It’ll be a few minutes.” She hopes this answer will placate him for now, trying to reel herself in when the adrenaline dump takes full hold, and her brain finally catches up to what her body was put through.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll get started on dinner.” He goes back downstairs to the kitchen to rummage through the stack of takeout menus they’ve accumulated over the years.

“Shit,” June mutters to herself, feeling the tears start to build behind her eyes. She makes quick work of the rest of the shower. The thick, steamy air quickly becomes suffocating. She tries to regulate her breathing as she dries off. It doesn’t work. She grabs onto the edge of the counter to try and steady herself, taking deep breaths in and out. The event from today replays in her head on repeat, each time seeming more real than the last. She thinks about how she could’ve broken or even lost her arm had the dog not decided to let go when it did. She presses her towel to her face and takes a gasping breath. Holy shit she could’ve lost an arm today.

“Jesus Christ,” June exits the bathroom and throws on whatever comfy clothes she can find. If she’s gonna give into the panic, might as well make it soft and snuggly. She goes downstairs in a daze, seeking out the only one that could ground her in times like these. He’s sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

“Did the boys have their dinner?” Jake startles where he sits, turning to look at his girlfriend. He’s on his feet immediately once he hears her strangled tone and sees her tight expression.

“Baby?” He gently places his hands on either side of her face.

“Did you feed the boys?”

“Yep, walked, fed, and ready for bed.” June nods, eyes wild.

“Good, that’s— that’s good.” She reaches her hands up to grasp Jake’s wrists, desperately trying to bring herself back down to earth. Jake gently swipes at the tears that begin to fall down her cheeks. June is looking forward, right at Jake, but it’s like she doesn’t even see him. He feels like she’s looking through him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He tries to catch her eyes with his.

“I almost—” Deep breath. “I almost lost an arm today… I mean, I know I didn’t, but I could’ve. If that dog hadn’t let go when it did, Jake, I would’ve lost my arm.”

June looks at him then, actually at him, not like she’s a thousand miles away. Her breathing is ragged, chest heaving at capacity, yet feels so tight. Her eyes are wide and glistening with tears, hands around Jake’s wrists, knuckles turning white. It stuns Jake for a second, not used to seeing his girl in such a blind panic. For a split second, he wants to panic, too. Seeing someone you love in so much pain isn’t easy, but he has to keep it together. He needs to keep her grounded.

“But you didn’t lose an arm, baby. It’s right here.” Jake gently pries her hands from his wrists so he can use his hands to touch her arms, gently rubbing up and down.

“See? They’re both here, both intact.” He’s looking into her eyes, pleading for her to register the feeling of his touch.

“They’re here. I didn’t—I didn’t lose an arm.”

“You didn’t lose an arm, baby. No use wasting your energy on what-ifs. You’re here, all of you.” Jake moves his hands up her arms, to her shoulders, and gently pulls her into him. She doesn’t immediately reciprocate.

“Junebug, you’re okay. You’re home, you’re safe.”

“I’m home, I’m safe.” Jake presses a kiss to the crown of her head and she slowly starts to wrap her arms around him. He rubs her back as she comes back to herself, a new wave of tears soaking into his shirt. His heart breaks a little more with every sad whimper and cry. Trying to keep himself together is exceedingly difficult.

“Let’s go sit down, hm?” Jake waits for a response. June sniffles and nods. He scoops her up off the floor to go sit down on the sofa, where she curls further into him. He continues to rub her back as her cries finally settle to the occasional sniffle and her breathing matches his.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright…Do you wanna order pizza?”

“From Linetti’s?” Jake smiles through a small chuckle.

“Yeah, from Linetti’s.”

June wipes at her nose and nods. Jake reaches for his phone on the coffee table.

“Jake?” June looks up at his face.

“Hm?”

“I love you.” Jake looks at June, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I love you too, Junebug.”

[alexis-mac-allstar]

oooh okay prompts...martin is used to being the one who is taken care of, but gets protective when it comes to leo

Aw yeah, love a role reversal! I will have to study up on Leo more, he is not one of the players I can spew random facts about off the top of my head. But this is cute, and I think they’re a cute pairing! Also, love a protective Martin.

So, I need to think about this more, but maybe like during a game Leo gets fouled really badly and it sets Martin off? Or after the game, bad feelings and tension boil over and Leo gets laid out or something and Martin comes and shuts everything *down*. Could be fun! I’ll think about it more and reblog with either a short piece or an AO3 link!

Thank you so much for the prompt!

[writingtheafterglow]

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

━

Rafe Cameron

Fuck, I'm Lonely

↳ part two

more to come...

━

[earnmysong]

the lovely @bywayofmemory hit me up to share an old fic of mine! thank youuuu, dude! i've written basically nothing fictional recently, so this is actually a wonderful exercise! If they so choose, @andrea-lyn, @firstaudrina, @hondagirll, @goddesspharo, @megalong, @cashewdani, @semperlitluv, or anyone else that this appeals to should jump on the train!

i still can't believe how/where wanda maximoff ended up in MCU canon, so!

just another recovering heart (so don't let me down) [wanda & steve; wanda & team cap]

“You’re spending five more minutes in here while I short - ” [Steve] keeps clear of her injurious accent piece, instead guiding his touch over the affected area of her neck “ - this out. The whole damn jacket’s attached to you through this…” | Wanda copes with her time in The Raft as best she can.

[use-your-telescope]

SNIPPET TIME!

The winner in my very non-scientific poll of what snippet to post next from When Everything's Made to be Broken was “Theo shows the hell up for Loki when he needs her,” so that’s what this is.

Context: Thor nearly kicked the bucket on a mission. Loki freaked out when Thor returned in a bloody heap. Theo is now navigating the aftermath.

Chapter is connected to: June - Florence & The Machine

(This isn’t even the full scene; there’s more that follows.)

Tags: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @thedistractedagglomeration @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @mochie85 @coldnique @lokixryss @gigglingtigger @cheekyscamp @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr

The Sky Turned Black

The Emergency Department may as well have been ransacked.

It was the first time Theo experienced a code black in The SHIELD facility - when there were more patients than resources. Wrappers for supplies covered the floor, as did blood. Towels to soak up the aforementioned blood were haphazardly scattered about, as were discarded gloves and protective gear - they had such a high volume of patients that they didn’t even have time to properly dispose of their protective gear in a bin, instead tossing it on the floor so they could focus on putting on the new gear to ensure they could keep treating patients.

She would have to bake the janitorial staff a cake as a thank-you for cleaning up after such a busy day.

Glancing at the clock, Theo let out a heavy sigh.

11:37 PM.

It had been 25 hours since the jet bringing the most critical patients returned. Multiple jets followed, each with more patients who needed a level of care that couldn’t be found in other hospitals.

Somehow, they made it through with no patients dying. Dr. Cho and Dr. Harper described it as a miracle - really, it was only possible because Theo spent the entire time darting between beds, magically treating the worst of the wounds and reviving patients as needed. She had to revive three separate agents, which left her with a bloody nose and feeling like she’d been hit by a bus - a throbbing headache, sore muscles, and more nauseous than she cared to admit - but everyone lived, and that was what mattered.

Of the many patients Theo treated, the first patient - Thor - was the one she kept thinking back to. Physically speaking, the process of re-starting Thor’s heart was taxing, but not as bad as a full revival; mentally, it was one of the less pleasant moments. However, the memory that lingered was less about reviving Thor and more about Loki’s remark as she was trying to work on Thor that twisted her stomach into knots: “You act like he’s a simple Midgardian! You know nothing of how to heal the Aesir— he will die at your hand!”

It was said in the heat of the moment, but she would be lying if she said the comment didn’t sting. If it was a field agent that she didn’t know who was freaking out about their partner, that was one thing - she could shake that off, and she had plenty of times before.

But Loki?

Loki knew about her fears; he saw firsthand how much losing a patient impacted her, even if she didn’t know the patient before. And to have him question — no, not question, outright doubt — her capabilities?

Well, his words cut far deeper and were much harder to shake.

When the final patient was stabilized and transferred out of the emergency department, Theo was the only doctor who didn’t immediately change out of her scrubs and go home to sleep. Not that she wasn’t looking forward to buying herself under a mountain of blankets and sleeping for the next two days, because she was. But she couldn’t do that without taking care of something else first.

Instead of going back to her suite, Theo slipped through the halls of the hospital, making her way to Thor’s room. Unlike the emergency department, which was constantly bustling with people coming and going, the halls of the ward were almost eerily quiet. After the bustle and chaos of the last 24 hours, the quiet and relative peace was refreshing. Besides, it was probably a good thing that she didn’t see anyone as she made her way through the building - she probably looked like a mess.

Maybe she was after the reassurance that Thor was, in fact, recovering. Maybe she just needed to end the night by coming full-circle, checking on the first patient she took care of. Why she needed to check on him wasn't important, but Theo knew herself well enough to understand she wouldn’t be able to rest until she had the proof that he was alright.

The door to Thor’s room was open. Theo stopped in the entrance and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight before her.

Thor was asleep. He already looked much better than when he first came in - probably something to do with the enhanced healing of the Aesir, but it might have also been because he was cleaned up and probably full of pain medicine. Given he was one of the first patients anyone cared for, he did have a bit of a head start on the whole recovery thing.

Someone sat in a chair beside the bed with their back to the door - between the perfectly erect posture and inky curls, it didn’t take a genius to realize Loki was the one at Thor’s side.

It was almost enough for Theo to turn on her heel and high-tail it out of there. She just stopped in to check on Thor; facing Loki was something she wasn’t sure she could handle at the moment. She was tired, and she didn’t trust herself not to say something that would make things worse.

“You need not lurk in the entrance,” Loki spoke up, not even turning around to look at Theo as he addressed her. “If you wish to enter, do so.”

Whether he knew it was Theo or not was a mystery, but he must have at least sensed someone’s presence.

Pushing away from the doorframe, Theo sighed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude.” She hesitantly stepped into the room, but stayed close to the door. If the conversation went south, she’d at least have a quick out. “I just finished working, so I thought I’d see how Thor was doing…You know, make sure he was still alive and all… Still Aesir, not a midgardian zombie or something.”

Damn her lack of filter.

A breathless puff of laughter escaped Loki, sounding almost surprised. Before Theo could turn and run, Loki twisted in his seat to face her, his eyes trailing up and down her body. His expression gave away no clues as to whether he was laughing because he found her comment amusing or because he was shocked she had the gall to speak to him like that, or anything to tell her where his mind was at.

“He remains alive and Aesir,” he finally replied, offering a tired smirk as he spoke. “Though you, darling, look a bit too close to a zombie for comfort.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but cracked a smile. She should have known something like that was coming. Beyond having bags under her bloodshot eyes and the inevitable loss of color in her skin from the revivals, Theo was almost positive her hair was a rat’s nest… But that was typical after a normal shift in the emergency department. After 24 hours straight, she could only imagine what she must have looked like.

“We just finished triaging and stabilizing everyone…” Theo shrugged, keeping her smile from Loki’s observation. “It's not for the faint of heart.”

“No, but you are nowhere near faint of heart,” Loki replied, offering a small smile. “For that, I am grateful.”

Theo nodded, uncertain of how to take his remark. She shoved her hands in her pockets, glancing around the rest of the room. Assorted bouquets of flowers and cards stood on display, covering the majority of the room’s surfaces. The whirring and beeping of monitors and machines filled the silence between them.

“Thank you for caring for my brother.” Loki’s attention returned to Thor, who still slept. “I apologize for my remarks earlier - I let my emotions overtake me. It was inappropriate for me to speak to you in such a harsh manner.”

The simple fact that she didn’t have to prompt him for the apology made it seem genuine, but it was hard to shake the underlying distrust that came from it. After all, wasn’t there something about how the things people say in the heat of the moment are what they feel deep down?

“It’s no problem,” Theo bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at Thor before returning her attention to Loki. “Sorry for my less than professional response… I uh, get a bit intense in the heat of the moment.”

“You need not apologize - your reaction was justified.” Loki nodded, still focused on his brother’s face. “I trust you with my life, and I do not doubt in the slightest that you would fight tirelessly to save any life you could. If I am entirely honest, I am not certain as to why I stated you would not be able to care for Thor, as I know better.”

The knot in Theo’s chest unraveled a bit more.

“I get it,” Theo reassured him, resting one hand on his shoulder. “Thor’s your brother. If I were in your position, I’d do the same.”

Loki covered her hand with his own, finally meeting Theo’s gaze. Red rimmed his eyes, making his seaglass green irises stand out even more than usual; between that and the disheveled hair, his distress was obvious.

“He’ll be alright,” Theo murmured, squeezing Loki’s shoulder, “And he’s lucky to have a brother who cares as much about him as you do.”

Theo caught the slightest quiver in Loki’s lip and the way his eyes briefly appeared to glisten, but she didn’t say anything. Frankly, she didn’t know what she would even say. Blood never scared her, but the second someone she knew started crying her heart would hammer in her chest and her palms would start to sweat; forget trying to carry a train of thought, much less a conversation.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He tightened his grip on Theo’s hand, keeping it on his shoulder.

With a quiet sigh, Theo shifted her weight between her aching feet once more. Now that she wasn’t running all over and fueled by adrenaline, the physical effects of going at full speed for so long started to make their presence known. Still, she didn’t try to remove her hand from Loki’s shoulder; it was obvious that Loki could use the support, and he didn’t seem like he was about to ask for it.

And if her silent gesture stopped any potential tears, she could handle the aching feet that came with standing.

“You mentioned that you recently finished stabilizing the other agents. It has been over twenty four hours since they returned…” Loki’s brows drew together as he returned his attention to Theo. “Have you taken any breaks to rest, or to eat something?”

“I worked straight through.” Theo shook her head. “We had lives to save. That’s the nature of what we do; it doesn’t wait for anyone’s lunch break to finish.”

Loki frowned, but let out a hum. He removed his hand from Theo’s, the cold air in the room a crisp contrast to the warmth of his skin. He flicked his wrist, using seidr to bring one of the chairs up next to his. “You ought to take a seat - you’ve certainly earned the opportunity to rest.”

With a timid, grateful smile, Theo sat down. Immediately, she could feel her muscles relax, though the motion reminded her of how much her body ached after reviving people.

“How are the other agents?”

“Barring any complications, they’ll be alright,” Theo slouched back in the chair, arms resting on the sides as she settled in. “Recovery times will vary, but the fact we were able to save everyone is a miracle in and of itself.”

If there were complications, well… Theo lived in the building. They knew where to find her.

“That is excellent news,” Loki remarked, resting his hand atop Theo’s as it sat on the arm of the chair between them. Though Theo did her best not to acknowledge the gesture, it certainly caught her attention. “You seem truly exhausted.”

“When you’re running on adrenaline, it’s easy to go for a long time and feel totally fine,” she shrugged, “but now all the adrenaline is wearing off and I’m definitely feeling the consequences.”

“The consequences?”

“Fatigue, sore muscles, all that good stuff.” Theo softened the remark with a hint of a smile. Loki already had Thor to focus on; he didn’t need to hear Theo complain. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m used to working long stretches - normally my shifts are twelve hours at a time, but with this group we extended it out until everyone was cared for and even brought in extra staff from New York Presbyterian - that’s the top non-SHIELD trauma center in New York, where I used to work.”

“Seems it was quite the undertaking,” Loki murmured.

“Yeah - it was my first code black here.” She glanced at Loki, who arched an eyebrow at her as if asking to elaborate. “Code black is when you have more patients than staff and resources to treat everyone. By the time we were done it looked like a tornado came through and destroyed everything.”

With an absentminded hum, Loki nodded. He brought his attention back to Thor, who slept soundly. “Will you have time to rest and recuperate before your next shift?”

“I’m supposed to have the next two days off,” Theo answered with a shrug, “but if I’m needed I’ll be in to help.”

Loki frowned, narrowing his eyes at Theo.

“What?”

“You spend all your time caring for others,” Loki observed, “Yet caring for yourself seems to be an afterthought.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.” Theo rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I just need a nap and I’ll be good to go.”

It wasn’t entirely true - she’d probably have a headache for a few days, not to mention feel a bit queasy, but for the time being the explanation would suffice. At least on earth, Excedrin was a thing.

Though he responded with a skeptical glance, Loki didn’t push the subject. His hand still sat on hers, but he slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed.

[morwensteelsheen]

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

THE HIDDEN FORTRESS

It is a period of civil war. Rebel forces, operating from a hidden base, learn of the Galactic Empire’s new super weapon, the DEATH STAR, a weapon with enough firepower to destroy an entire planet.

Pursued by the Empire’s sinister agents, Captain Faramir and a band of unlikely heroes race to discover the true nature of the weapon, destroy it, and restore freedom to the galaxy…

🌌 On AO3 🌌

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Éowyn/Faramir (son of Denethor II)

[hornee4calum]

What i would FUCKING GIVE to make him MAKE THIS FACE 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

LIKE OH MY GOD

[joelslegalwhre]

Hey anon! I love the idea, thanks for your request &lt;3

Just us

pairing ⁀➷ henry cavill x fem!reader

word count ⁀➷ 2.2k

summary ⁀➷ up in the ask

warnings ⁀➷ age gap (reader is in early 20’s, henry is 38), pure fluff, drunk Henry (but not in a bad way?), H/F means Henry's Friend, paparazzi

a/n ⁀➷ thanks for the request anon this was a blast to write!

Since an anon pointed this out to me; („paparazzi get called and scheduled“) they can also get their information about the whereabouts of a celeb from bartenders, spotters, etc… Please remember that I write fiction and not everything is like real life 100% of the time 🫶

Here’s my h.c. playlist

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

The night was truly not as you would have imagined it to be.

„Henry... c'mon bear, let's go home." you said, trying to get him off the barstool.

„You look beautiful.“ He slurred in your ear.

Goosebumps immediately spread over your entire body. You quickly kissed the corner of his lips, "Thanks. You look terribly handsome though, even drunk.“ you whispered with a chuckle, „That should be illegal."

His hands wandered to your hips, his fingers tracing shapes all the way up to your bra.

Henry was drunk as hell, and you had to get him home now before he did something in public, that he would regret later.

Luckily, one of his mates had your number and texted you about half an hour ago.

H/F: Hey Y/N can you please pick Henry up? We might have had a little too much of…. everything...

You: I'm on my way

You instantly hoped that there would be no press around.

You couldn't use paparazzi now, but they kind of always knew where Henry was. At any time of the day… or night.

Henry's friend had sent you the address of the club right after your last message.

Usually Henry wasn't someone who partied much. You spent your weekends together on the couch, walking Kal, or cooking together. But who never went out partying on a weekend?

"Kal?" you peeked through the door into the living room. His head lifted from his big dog bed, and he looked at you, panting.

"I'm going to pick up Daddy, will you watch the house while I'm gone?" Excitedly, he wagged his tail when he trotted to you as if confirming it to you to watch out. Lovingly, you petted him behind his ears. "I won't be gone for long."

"Alright." You muttered to yourself as the car came to a hold. You thanked the cab driver who would wait for you, and got out at the back entrance of the club. You wouldn't have found a parking space in front of the club by car, so the cab was clearly the better option.

Fortunately, it wasn't very busy, and you couldn't see any paparazzi. You took your ID out of your pocket and immediately received a few strange looks from the security guards. Sure, probably very few people came here in jeans, a hoodie and sneakers.

The club was loud and sweaty, and you could feel the bass of the music pulse through your body.

Just then you realized that you didn't know where they were, and the club was quite big, so you texted Henry's friend again.

You: I'm here, where are you?

H/F: At the bar, you have to get to the back of the club

You: Thanks

Making your way through the crowd, you began to sweat in your hoodie but couldn't take it off unless you wanted to walk around in only your bra, which you obviously didn't. You saw them just a moment later, all of them looking rather drunk. A chuckle left your lips when you saw Henry on a bar stool, resting his elbow on the counter. He was clearly drunk as hell. You wondered how they managed not to get the attention of the whole club by now, usually wherever Henry went the people recognized him. Right when you thought that, two girls walked up to them.

Henry didn't even see them, too interested to get the bartender's attention for another drink. His friends did though, just for the two girls to tap Henry's shoulder and flash him a flirty smile. He turned around by the sudden touch and drew his brows together. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but you grinned when he pursed his lips, shaking his head with raised brows.

He removed the girl's hand off of his arm, and his friends suppressed a laugh.

Just then, you finally reached them and immediately caught Henry's attention. „Hi, boys.“ you greeted his friends, and immediately got smiles and waving hands back.

„Excuse me, if you'd be so nice…“ You dryly said and squeezed past the girls, „l'm going to get this drunk mountain of a man home.“

„And who are you?" One of them asked with a deprecating look, eyeing you up and down.

„Mine." Henry answered for you. He grabbed the hem of your hoodie and pulled you to his chest. „Hey baby.” He purred as he put his big hands on your cheeks and kissed you.

You could taste the alcohol on his lips but didn't mind one bit. His curls were tousled, and you wanted to run your hands through them, to make them even messier. And as much as you wanted to keep kissing him, you broke away from him.

Henry still had his hands on your cheeks.

Your hands went to his and gently withdrew them from your cheeks. "You need a bed." you laughed lightly.

"Only if you are part of the bed too." He grinned and you shook your head, giggling. "Not today, Cavill."

Henry grimaced, „C'mon baby…..please".

„How old are you anyway?" one of them interrupted the two of you. „Yeah, are you even allowed into a club?" the two girls were still giving you deprecating looks,

„I'm old enough, thanks for your concern." you tried your best to sound as nice as you could.

„Henry... c'mon bear, let's go home." you said, trying to get him off the barstool.

„You look beautiful." He slurred in your ear. Goosebumps immediately spread over your entire body.

You quickly kissed the corner of his lips, "Thanks. You look terribly handsome though, even drunk.“ you whispered with a chuckle, „That should be illegal."

His hands wandered to your hips, his fingers tracing shapes all the way up to your bra. „Stop that." you lightly chuckled. Your hands softly grabbed his and removed them from your sides. „You can do that at home. When you're sober." you whispered into his ear, knowing damn right what it would do to him.

You turned to Henry's friend who had texted you, „Thank you." you chuckled, and he just raised his glass with a smile and nodded.

„Alright, let's go." you chuckled and took Henry's large hand. „Night, boys.

"They all gave an almost harmonic, and drunken, "Ciao, y/n", which made you laugh.

On your way out, you could still feel the gazes of the two girls on your back.

The same security guards that eyed you for your unusual choice of clothes when you entered the club, were now giving you the same looks. Not because of your clothes, though. You and Henry's hands were intertwined as you two exited the club, and he continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You knew that look, it wasn't the „Omg, look that's Henry Cavill!“ , but rather the „She must at least be 15 years younger than him." look.

And even though there were almost 17 years between you and Henry, you looked even younger than you really were. Something the press absolutely loved, of course.

The moment you and Henry walked out of the club, you were greeted by blinding lights, dozens of shouting paparazzi.

Henry's grip on your hand tightened and no matter how drunk he was, he immediately switched to being your protector.

Almost everyone with a camera shouted his name, the few without were shouting various questions;

„How much younger is she?"

„Is this your girlfriend, Henry?"

„Who is she?"

„What's the name of the girl, Henry?"

And so much more that got lost in all the voices and shouting.

Henry let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, protecting you from the paparazzi. „Give us some space, goddamn." you could hear how he tried not to sound as drunk as he really was. And you loved him even more for doing his best to keep you safe even when he wasn't feeling his best.

He pressed you against his chest and continued mumbling complaints.

Normally Henry was one of the most polite celebrities you knew, he smiled and gave them answers most of the time, but today they were definitely crossing a line.

He didn't stop walking, nor taking his arm from your shoulder when he grabbed the hood on your hoodie and pulled it down to shelter your face from them. In all the hectic and flashlights, you totally forgot that you could do that. Which once more showed that Henry might have been drunk, but he was still your protector, no matter what.

You helped him by guiding the way to the cab, still waiting for you outside the club. The paparazzi were following you until both of you got in, the car door shutting out their questions and the sounds of clicking cameras. „Fuck, I'm sorry, peaches."

„It’s fine, Hen. Don’t worry about it.“

Last night when you had made it home, Kal was impatiently waiting for you two. Whenever you didn't come home with Henry, which got rarer with each week, he got quite confused why his new mommy wasn't coming home with his dad.

Who was absolutely wasted right now. When he hit the soft bed, a moan left his mouth. „Wait a second before you fall asleep." you giggled, „l'll be right back." With Kal by your side, you went downstairs into the kitchen, getting Henry a glass of water and ibuprofen.

„Look at him, Kal." the dog looked at his dad and back up to you. A snort escaped your mouth. The mattress sank down next to Henry. „Babe... Hen." you lightly caressed his cheek. „It's better to take them now."

His eyes opened only so much to see you, he groaned but took the glass and the pill out of your hand.

You heard the door to the living room open and close, your head turning in Henry's direction. He blinked a few times, probably because the sun was still brightly illuminating the room. You looked up at him from were you were sitting on the floor, scratching Kal behind his ears, while Henry approached you. „Morning, bear." you smiled at him.

„Good morning, peaches." The sight of you and Kal together in his home was one of the things Henry loved the most. Thus, why he always wanted you to stay at his, so much so that it wouldn't take him much longer to ask you to move out of your own apartment.

He sat down on the couch behind you and patted his broad tights. He hugged your waist as you snuggled up to him, one leg draped over his thigh. „Thanks for the painkillers." he mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent.

They smelled like peaches, and more so like home. „lt's an old trick my cousin told me about. The headaches are much less painful if you take them at night first and then again in the morning." you grinned at him. Henry kissed your forehead, keeping his lips there a little longer.

„l love you." he whispered.

„I love you too." your hands rested on his muscular chest. You just laid there for some time, Kal sleeping on his dog pillow, and listening to the birds singing outside.

„I bet the pictures are everywhere by now.”

You raised your head to look at him. A heavy breath escaped your lungs and Henry stroked your hair.

„Let them talk." you said.

„Who are they to tell us what to do and whom to date? Martin Freeman is married to Rachel Mariam, and she is 21 years younger than him." you played with Henry's fingers, „it's not like l'm underage.” Henry chuckled at your comparison.

„But you know what you are?" Henry asked with a soft smile. You propped yourself up on his chest, „What?"

„You are the woman I love. You are the only one I will ever love and the one I want to call the mother of my children. You," he stopped and looked at you with a look of pure love, „You're all I want."

With that, he had taken all the air from your lungs. Your mouth was slightly open and tears began to run down your cheeks.

"Oh baby, don't cry." Henry grinned as he wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"How am I not supposed to cry?" you sniffled. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever been told. And all those things, everything, I want all those things with you and only you."

As if Kal had been waiting for his moment, he put his head on Henry's thigh, looking at both of you. You giggled as you gently stroked his snout. "You too, Kal."

“l'm glad they know." Henry whispered to your hairline.

„Me too."

He wrapped his hands around you and pressed you back against his chest. His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, and slowly your eyes closed.

Henry took out his phone to take a picture of the three of you, Kal on his pillow, you asleep on his chest. One of your hands rested on his torso while the other was resting under your head. He smiled at the picture. The sun was still shining into the room, painting everything in a golden light.

With the caption „Just us" he posted the picture. Confirming it to the whole world.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[firehouse-buck]

drunk words, sober thoughts - spencer reid

title: drunk words, sober thoughts

summary: penelope dares spencer to make you blush.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 262

warning(s): one line of suggestive dialogue from our boy genius

a/n: if this drabble seems familiar, it's because it's from my other account, @flowerbinniee.

“Okay,” Penelope chirps giddily as she downs the rest of her wine. “Baby Genius! I dare you to…” Her baby blues gleam with mischief as she looks at you. Oh, no. “Make Y/N blush.”

Spencer raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that it?”

The tipsy hacker nods. “That’s it.”

Shrugging a single, nonchalant shoulder, Spencer slides in close to you, enough so that you can feel his presence next to you. Delicate, slender fingers push a lonely strand of hair behind your ear. He leans into you and whispers, “You’re lucky that we’re in front of our friends right now. I’d have you naked and writhing under me if we weren’t.”

You try so hard to conceal the heat radiating off your face and neck, but the hollering from your friends proves that you are not successful.

“Look at that,” Spencer remarks once he’s moved away from you and downs a shot of tequila that he’s poured himself, a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. “You’re blushing.”

“So,” you ask Spencer a couple of hours later once the party has calmed down a little and the two of you have a moment alone. “Were you serious about what you said earlier? During Truth or Dare?”

He tilts his head. “Why, are you interested?”

You chew on your lower lip. “Yeah. Very interested, actually.”

He nods and does not even try to hide his smile. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine’s only five minutes away.”

He leans forward and presses a quick peck to your lips, a preview of what’s to come. “Lead the way.”

[wonderbreadbucky]

the way i want to do a grieving series with multiple characters as a way to cope with my inevitable loss is very strong

[alexis-mac-allstar]

i have so many ideas that i can't execute lmao but arsenal boxing au? you can choose the pairing

Ooooh, boxing AU! I shall have to study up on boxing as my experience is sorely limited, but yeah definitely! Maybe make the setting a gym so I can pull in a bunch of characters and several pairings, maybe each team is it’s own gym or something???? Also, idk how many people will be here for this, but the competitive aspect immediately made me think Ramsdale/Raya for the main pairing (but also I’ve been meaning to write them ever since I saw that picture of Aaron hugging Raya after they beat Porto)

Thank you so much for the prompt! I’ll reblog this again with either the actual story or a link to it on AO3 depending on how long it ends up and how much I like it.

Thank you again!

[earnmysong]

#he'll be an extraordinary girl!dad

YOU KNOW I WANT MORE OF THAT UNIVERSE.

i do too, friend, i do too! the amount of times i've revisited no one plan, no one stand (to be free) is almost absurd. why is going from a nebulous glow of a notion to actual paragraphs so freaking difficult? the as-yet-nonexistent sequel would definitely be titled flick a finger [wait for the magic to do its thing] which, yes, breaks from the nostalgic titling tradition. such perfection cannot be passed up, though! do i have an inkling of what would happen? OF COURSE NOT, WHY WOULD I?

[thatonewannabedragon]

I wrote about a small piece of my night. No particular reason, but it felt nice.

It's a random thought on a sleepless night, "When is the last time you have seen the stars?" A question that causes what little energy you have to all be focused on that thought. You need to go outside and see the stars.

The late night, or well now early morning, summer air is cool. It's refreshing compared to the stuffy room you have been staying in. Sitting down and looking up a sense of horror or maybe regret quickly eats at your heart. 

The sky is painted with the soft desaturated blue that tells of the sun to come. Smooth and light and not filled with the few pinpricks of light you wanted needed to see. There's a desperation in your search. You should've come outside sooner, or just have gone outside in general. 

But you didn't. You wouldn't have.

You can't remember the last time you sat out here in general.

A mournful acceptance takes over that desperation. Maybe you could try again tomorrow?

You know you won't.

Just as you are about to give up a singular beautiful speck crosses your skyward gaze and you feel. Relief. Happiness. Comfort. It's finding a lifeline in a sea of ever prominent blue. You smile as you cradle its presence as if it were about to shatter. 

It's not much. That's ok. 

It's there and that's what matters.

You watch it as it becomes harder and harder to see as dawn starts to arrive. Birds, while already calling when you went outside, only seem to be getting louder. An amalgamation of a chorus expanding into infinity. It's like stars in a way. 

You're wearing headphones anyways. 

Listening to music overlaying the birds, it's too overwhelming otherwise for some reason.

Something rustles in front of you. A dark silhouette that hides itself just as quickly. You're a bit disappointed that you couldn't make out what it was in time.

Looking back up at your treasured speck, it takes longer to find than usual. 

You don't find it again.

It's gotten too bright. 

It's sad, not as bad as when you thought there was nothing there, but still sad.

Melancholy is it?

It's not heavy like before. It's kinda nice.

You got to see the speck after all, albeit in a brief window of time.

With a final deep inhale you stand up and head back inside. You should probably go to bed, and maybe you'll come out to see the stars earlier tomorrow.

You won’t.

But the thought is nice.