#this one's sitting at a cool 1k so. maybe. we will see the end of it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 10 months

Note

Zombie!au- would love to see more grump Steve in the earlier days. And r just trying to lighten things up a bit!

thank you for requesting ♡ steve zombie!au —your attempt to cheer steve up backfires, but he's not so oblivious to your feelings as you think. fem!reader, 1k

Water drips down the length of Steve's arm. It follows a path to his elbow, shining honey-orange in the last dregs of sunlight that haunt the room. The stone wall at your back is cooling, the baking heat of the day abating with the setting sun.

Your shirt is still damp but clean. Steve scrubbed it until the fabric turned fuzzy, the faint smell of sweat lingering despite all his efforts and dawn dish soap. He sits close enough to rest his leg atop yours, touching you without apology. It's hard to care about personal space when you spend time with someone like this, isolated. Your survival is tied to his like shared veins.

Water sloshes over the edge of the bucket onto a towel he placed beneath it. You clear your throat, drawing his gaze.

"Kinda weird how many towels people leave behind."

His constant frown doesn't so much as twitch. "Why's that?"

"We all need towels. Makes you wonder if they thought there'd be towels somewhere else… We loot all these houses and half the time there isn't a can of peaches, but there's always a couple of towels."

"You only need one towel," Steve says.

"Not the way we use them."

Steve's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. You can guess what he's thinking —you're making small talk about towels. Maybe he'd rather sit in silence than listen, but if you stay silent in the wake of his bad mood any longer, you'll disintegrate.

"I'm just saying it's weird to take soap but not the towel."

"They probably weren't thinking about it. Not the way it happened, I mean." Steve's brows pinch together. He pulls his shirt from the soapy water filled bucket between his legs and squeezes the excess water from it.

"Were you going to say something else?" you ask cautiously.

Steve wrings his shirt, the muscles in his arms singing as he twists it tighter and tighter. You can't choose what to look at, his arms, the coiled definition of his upper chest, or the strange expression that plays on his fine features. Eventually he drops his sodden shirt on the towel and wipes his hands dry, not looking at you as he asks, "What did you think was gonna happen?"

You shift your foot under his weight. He doesn't move it still, and you're glad. You need touch. You need his touch, even if he doesn't need yours.

"I thought everybody was going to be fine." Your stomach aches remembering. "For a week, the news didn't bother me. The radio hosts were pandering and CNN were fearmongers. But then… one day I woke up and I knew it was the end."

"When they started saying–"

"Don't try to hide." You swallow a lump of past hurt where it swells.

"That's why people didn't bother with towels," Steve says. "That's what I think. They knew they wouldn't make it past the week, deep down, even if they didn't know."

You cross your arm over the other and hold your elbow. The sun sinks like a stone, dark eating the corners of the room. It feels colder now.

It's scarier, in the dark. You worry about what you can't see.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Steve says, speaking more gently than he had been as he pulls his leg away. "I know you were trying to make me feel better. I didn't mean to kill the mood like an asshole."

"That makes a difference," you tease.

Steve stands and grabs the bucket of dirty water, pouring it out of the open window. You can hear the loud slosh of it slapping overgrown bluegrass below.

"I'm sorry for being a dick," he says, turned from you still, bucket braced in two rigid hands.

"Steve, I don't care if you're in a bad mood. I just worry it's my fault."

He tosses the bucket aside, the thin metal handle rattling as it lands. Brushing the hair from his face, Steve turns back to you and, silhouetted by the last light, gives you a tentative smile.

"You drive me crazy sometimes, but if I'm pissed, that's my problem. Not your fault."

You sit up, a muscle twinging between your sore shoulders. "Oh. Cool."

Steve nods to the left. "Come over here. We'll sleep where it's dry."

You do as told, achy and worn from another day at the end of the world. You could sleep in a queen size bed every night and it'd make no difference to this kind of exhaustion, the burden of perpetual hyper vigilance like slow releasing venom. You kick the shitty single mattress you've been sleeping on for the last few days across the room and Steve spreads out a blanket for you to lay on.

You can't sleep. Most of the time, you lay down for a few hours feigning rest while Steve sits soldier, nothing to do, nothing to darn nor sharpen nor tend to. You're in a strange limbo of having no urgent needs and no strength between you to move on yet. With a stache of protein bars you found in the desk in the den, you and Steve can stay here for a few more days.

You sit down regardless of the sleepless tossing and turning that awaits, surprised when Steve wastes little time sitting beside you. Shirtless. He leans against the jacket you've been using as a pillow and puts his arm behind your back with the familiarity of a lover, hand on your waist.

Your breath pulls in funny.

"Thanks for trying," he says.

You risk looking up at him. He looks down, a little bit of King Steve charm in the quirk of his mouth.

"But towels?" he asks.

"It was the first thing I could think of."

He nods like this makes sense and pulls you into his side, rubbing yours with enough affection to floor you if you weren't already on it. "I didn't pack a towel, and neither did you. We're all the same."

"Then how come we're here?" you ask, quiet with the embarrassment of asking such a vulnerable question. How come we lived and no one else did?

"I don't know."

You put your face in the curve of his neck hesitantly. Steve rests his cheek on top of your head.

"I'm glad we are, though," he murmurs.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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gogobootz1 · 1 year

Text

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Eddie Roundtree x Reader

Summary: Stress is starting to interfere with your sleep schedule. But a late-night encounter with a fellow member of The Six might just help you out.

A/N: It really bothers me that the show changed his last name, but I love this man so here you go

Word Count: 1k

The one thing you really couldn’t find yourself getting used to in LA was the heat. Dry, stifling, and never-ending, it made you miserable. After spending nearly your whole life in cold, dreary Pittsburgh, you were more than struggling to make the adjustment.

The cheap ass house Billy had rented didn’t help things, either. Among its flaws, the lack of air conditioning is at the top of your list. And it’s why you can’t seem to stop tossing and turning. No matter which limbs you stick out from under your blankets, it’s not enough to cool you down. The windows you opened two hours ago aren’t helping either. Growing tired of trying to sleep, you throw the covers off of yourself and sit up.

At the very least, some water should be able to help.

You huff and make your way downstairs, paying no mind to the time. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, you let the door swing shut. Once you’ve sipped on your tap water for a bit, you decide a snack might help too.

Still holding your cup in one hand, you start rummaging through the fridge with the other.

Leftovers were clearly out. As delicious as Camila’s lasagna was two nights ago, you didn’t want to bother heating anything up. Not to mention that Warren would probably want it for breakfast. Billy specifically said that the apples he bought were off-limits, but you aren’t necessarily opposed to pissing him off. You are, however, concerned about his taste. He probably got red delicious or Jonathan or something equally as gross, so you can't have that. Finally, you strike gold. The deli drawer. At least one Dunne brother has your back. Graham made a B-line for the deli counter on your grocery trip the other day.

You snag two slices of cheese out of the packet and start eating them while looking to see if the fridge has anything else to offer.

"Are you eating deli meat straight from the fridge at 2 AM?"

You whip around to find Eddie staring at you expectantly. For a second, you're like a deer in headlights. Caught red-handed, standing by the evidence. You swallow the final bite of cheese you were working on.

"No."

He makes a face that tells you he is not at all buying it.

"It was cheese," you mumble. Quietly, you continue, "why are you in here anyway, Edward?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe to see who was making all that noise?" He shrugs angrily. For the first time, you take note of his pajamas. The blue and green plaid really compliments the white Rolling Stones shirt he's got on. His hair's all tussled, probably because he was just sleeping.

"Shit, I woke you up, didn't I?" You whisper, internally kicking yourself. The fridge closes behind you as you take a seat at the kitchen table. You rest your head in your hands. "I'm really sorry, Eddie."

The sincerity in your voice takes him off guard. Typically your relationship is characterized by bickering and teasing and sticking your tongues out at each other like when you were little. This is a rare moment of vulnerability for you.

Eddie takes the seat across from you at the table. "What are you doing up in the first place?" He asks gently.

"I'm too hot," you complain.

"Sure are," he nods, and you kick him. "OW! Jesus, I was joking."

You sigh again, guiltily, "sorry."

"Cranky much," he rubs at his knee, "did you get any sleep at all?"

"No," you say miserably.

"Wait, are you serious?" Eddie asks, and you nod. "We were in the studio all day, and you stayed late to record the extra trombone part. Aren't you exhausted?" You nod once again. He lets out a sigh, "what's keeping you up then?"

"I already told you, Billy needs to fix the damn air conditioning," you grumble.

"And that's all?" Eddie sounds skeptical.

You sigh, "I don't know. It's just- a lot." He gives an encouraging nod, and you continue, "we're not in Pittsburgh anymore, and everything's new and different, and this is our shot, and if I blow it-"

"Woah there," Eddie stops you. "First of all, if anyone blows it, it'll be Graham for spilling something on someone important." That pulls a laugh out of you, and he smiles. "And I know things are different, but it's exciting too. If you ever feel homesick, though, we'll just drive around until we find someplace that reminds us of Eat'n Park. Okay?"

You nod softly at his words, and he stands up. You send him a questioning look.

"Come on," he says, "you've gotta get some sleep."

"Eddie, I've tried," you insist. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Then at least come sit on the couch," he pleads. You reluctantly follow him into the living room and plop yourself down on the sofa. "Close your eyes too. If they get any more bloodshot, people will think we're high all the time."

"Aren't we?" You ask, throwing your arm over your face. You don't see him shake his head at you while he grabs his guitar.

"Since you woke me up, you get to hear what I've been working on," Eddie says. He pushes your legs over so that he has room to sit.

"Lucky me," your voice drips with sarcasm. Eddie flicks your leg, and you flinch away. "Hey!"

"Watch it, sleeping beauty," he says.

"Or what?" You taunt.

"I'll tell Billy you broke the garbage disposal," he smirks. You bolt upright at his words.

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"How was I supposed to know I had to turn the water to use it?!"

Eddie stares at you, unimpressed.

"Never mind, Mozart, play on," you nod at him. Eddie starts strumming the guitar, and you sigh, laying back down.

The melody is slow and sweet, mesmerizing too. Your intentions of listening closely to offer feedback quickly slip out the window. Especially when he starts humming along. You don't even feel yourself starting to drift off. Your acute awareness of the temperature in the house, your dry mouth, or any residual hunger that haunted you earlier slips away.

Eddie goes on playing for a bit before he looks to you for your thoughts on it. When he finds you fast asleep, he sighs, "that good, huh?" He shakes his head with a smile on his face. Eddie stands and hangs the guitar back on the wall, retiring to his own room. He'll make you listen to it again in the morning.

#eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader

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strawhatsoraya · 3 months

Note

this is the wind&fire anon (for the future, I'll just mark it with a 🍥 so you know it's the same anon!)

I'm happy to hear that my words cheered you up !! That's so important, and I know how hard blocks can be as a writer so I'm more than glad to make you aware of how gorgeous your writing is~

I'm lucky that your requests opened just when I came haha so,, if this one ticks you right,

an Ace fic with a chubby reader where the crew is playing games (like maybe truth or dare) and the reader gets dared to sit on his lap or smth and she gets hesitant because she knows she is heavy? and just Ace pulling her into his lap without any hesitation. this can be short or long, sfw or nsfw, whatever you feel comfy! I know I'll love whatever it is <3

if this isn't quite what you're looking for, that's super cool too, I just want to reiterate that you're an absolutely amazing writer and I love your works!! I hope the block leaves you alone ><

– 🍥

If we don't look at the time stamp on this, the world will shine a little brighter LOL. Please. I am making an attempt at a come back and I love Ace so I decided to give a short at a short scenario with this cute (and spicy) prompt you sent me.

ACE X CHUBBY!FEM READER / SFW (but suggestive) WC: 907 (under 1k? in this economy? it's more likely than you think) CW: ace gets handsy in public, at the end of the day he has no manners, Izou is impatient, and Marco is too observant for his own good. I didn't proof read it so that's a content warning. leave me alone *sob quietly*

“Truth or dare!” Izou called out, bringing down his large delicate hand onto the table they were all gathered around. The sound of it slamming against wood delivered a sense of urgency you were longing to ignore but couldn’t. “Come now, quickly!” His words egged you on, pushed you to answer before you could think it over better.

“Dare!” you call out, mind blank. You regret it as soon as the syllable is past your lips but it is too late now. You couldn’t take it back. The mischievous smiles stretching all around the table reminded you that you were indeed in a crew of pirates; sharks in the water, waiting for their next prey. You remember, suddenly, the last time you all played this game. Just like now, you had called out dare, not willing to part with your secrets. They had challenged you to clean the deck with your tongue.

Fortunately for you, you didn’t get far before Marco started worrying about wood splinters and cut you off. It didn’t stop the rest of the crew from cackling until they cried.

You snap back from your reverie, to see Izou’s dark eyes honed in on your face. Eyelashes fluttering, you blink repeatedly, hoping to magically remember what he had just said. When you take a beat too long, Izou sucks his teeth.

“Tsk,” he admonishes, with a small shake of his head. “I said: I dare you to sit on Ace’s lap.”

Immediately you turn your head so fast you feel dizzy. Ace’s dark brown eyes meet yours, and your heart beats in your chest, rattling your ribs like the bars of an enclosure. There’s an excuse, sitting heavily in the back of your tongue that wants to desperately save your pride. You couldn’t imagine sitting your full weight on Ace’s laps–especially not in front of so many observant eyes. What if he complained? What if someone made some off-colored joke about your size? What if the chair broke underneath the weight of the two of you? Countless scenarios, one more frightening than the other, run through your mind. They are tossed overboard by the feel of Ace’s extraordinarily hands on your hips as he spins you around, before he pulls you into his lap.

It’s amazing the way your body melds into his, your softness fills every gap, almost robbing him of every ounce of common sense. You shift on his lap, maybe out of discomfort but it is enough to make him hold his breath. Ace is rigid as you settle again, heat creeping slowly over the expanse of his back, to wrap fiery tentacles around his neck. The temptation of your scent and warmth strangles him until he can’t speak. He tries not to think of you, trembling in his embrace, his hot breath strumming against your collarbone. Carefully, Ace runs his fingers up one side of your body.

“Don’t move,” he breathes against your ear; a hand grips your hip. You feel a hardness stir underneath you, and a flush spreads immediately across your cheeks. Marco holds your gaze as he brings a mug of beer to his lips–and you swear there is a mischievous curve to them. A bundle of nerves lodges in your throat at the same time a fire lights in the depths of your belly when Ace walks a path with the fingers of his free hand over the width of one of your thighs–right towards the center of you.

Izou plows on–oblivious or pretending–with the game that has you questioning your sanity.

“Alright, your turn,” he says, even as you let out a loud squeak that brings his beautifully groomed eyebrows together in a frown. You stammer in response, watching the way his eyes dip to your trembling mouth, and pray and pray and pray that no one notices Ace’s wandering hand under the table, that the chair continues to hold both your weights as you disobey Ace’s command to not move.

How can you not move when his hand is stubbornly trying to pry your now sweaty thighs apart?

“Any minute now, Sunshine,” he croons softly, his voice is silk that slithers across the table to your ears. Meanwhile, Ace’s breath fans across the nap of your neck as he moves your bundle of hair aside. “You have to ask the question.”

“Ah!” you exclaim, as you jump on Ace’s lap, as he drags the pad of his middle finger up and down the inside of one thigh; a touch so searing you swear he’s branding his own name on your skin as he does so. Your mind is so jumbled you can hardly think. You’d never thought you’d be in this situation, on the lap of your biggest most life consuming crush. Not only that, you never could have imagined a situation where Ace would forego all manners. He was an animal, a beast, the worst kind of pirate! “M-marco!” you cry out as you try to aim a swinging leg down to Ace’s foot but you can’t reach. You curse your height, or lack thereof at the moment, and curse the mirth dancing behind Marco’s eyes.

Had he caught on?

“Truth or dare,” you challenge him as you swallow a gasp when Ace rubs softly against your shirts, right over the heated core of you. Marco smiles softly.

“Dare,” he declares with a tilt of his head. “I feel like an adventure tonight.”

#&&. requests #ace x reader #ace x you #ace x y/n #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece fanfiction

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starsstuddedsky · 1 year

Text

Lingering

reader x seokmin

summary: sunrise at the beach with a crush

genre: fluff this is just self-indulgent fluff

warnings: none!

wc: 1k

a/n: while looking up references of his smile i nearly died

The sun hides just under the horizon, the world holding its breath while waiting for the warmth to return. You study the sky, the twinkling stars that are too far away to survive the sun, going into hiding until the next night. But for now, you can still pick them out, see the ghost of constellations you knew when you were still a child.

The sand digs between your toes, cold and grainy without the sun to warm them. You like watching the waves roll and crash in the half-light of dawn, the thundering crashes of water breaking on the beach mesmerizing. No matter how many times you sit here, it’s magical. Something about the calming power of extreme violence.

A voice calls to you, inaudible over the waves, though it still makes you jump. When you turn around, Seokmin is crossing the beach toward you.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” He repeats, close enough this time to be heard over the crashing waves. He stands over you, hands on his hips.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter.

He shrugs. “I heard someone wandering around at five in the morning, so I was making sure we weren’t being robbed. Then I figured I should make sure no one was sleep-walking into the ocean.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t go getting an inflated ego; I’d do this for anyone.”

“Really? You’d sneak out at dawn for Seungkwan?”

Seokmin pauses. “Fine, it is special treatment. You only.”

It’s silly to get this happy over an answer you forced out of him, but it’s fun to pretend you’re special to him. That’s the worst part about having a crush on your friend. It’s not hunting for feelings when none exist, but knowing exactly how desperate you are. Like how your heart races when he sits next to you, kicking his sandals off and burying his feet in the sand to match you.

“Oh my god, it’s so cold,” he says, shaking his shoulders to emphasize his point. You shake your head, and pretend like you aren’t hyper-aware of his sweatshirt brushing against yours. He’s quiet with you, a rare quality for Seokmin. You’re used to hearing him joke around with Seungkwan and Mingyu, or do everything he can to annoy Minghao. He’s a friend of a friend that’s turned you into a cliché. God, you can’t even think straight around him.

“You never answered my question,” he says, staring out across the water. The tiny line where the water ends and the sky begins is starting to grow more definite, the sky above just a shade lighter. “You don’t have to,” he quickly adds, “I know we’re not really that close, well, not yet. I’m not saying that we have to be either, I just mean that—” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “I’m saying I’m here. If you want.” And he smiles.

A thousand metaphors run through your head, each more cliché than the last, but his smile really is brighter than the sun, warming you from the inside out. You want to tell him… you don’t know what, anything that keeps him smiling at you like that.

“I like your smile.” You cover your mouth as soon as you say it but Seokmin laughs, smile widening even more. With every heartbeat, his face becomes more clear, the rising sun growing more courageous with each inch.

“Thank you,” Seokmin says, though he can’t quite look you in the eye. Great, you’ve made it awkward. What can you say to fix this? Taking it back feels even more awkward, and even though it was painful, at least it was true.

You bury your head in your arms. Maybe he’ll just leave and eventually the tide will rise and wash you away. You could turn into a mermaid, or maybe a jellyfish. You try to remember what you know about jellyfish. They have no brains and no muscles so they just float around the ocean; they have one hole for food to go in and out of; they have tentacles that sting. That could be cool, to be a sting-y jellyfish. Or maybe one of the glowy ones in the deep sea, bioluminescent.

“You know, I like your smile too,” Seokmin says. You don’t dare lift your head.

“It’s really cute,” he continues, “like, you always at least smile at my jokes, even when they’re really bad. You never make fun of me with the rest of the guys, and you made a cake for my birthday even though we barely knew each other.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath. All you hear is the crashing of waves on the shore. “What I’m trying to say is I like you. More than a friend.”

He likes you.

You try to find your brain but you’ve already started to become a jellyfish. There’s nothing in your head except he likes you.

“Hey,” he taps your shoulder gently. “Can you lift your head?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, just in case he can’t hear you.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s five in the morning and my hair is a mess and I think it’s been way too long since I brushed my teeth and I’m covered in sand, and I like you so much I’m a jellyfish.” You pull your knees in even tighter, determined to remain in this ball of safety.

“You’re missing the sunrise,” Seokmin says.

You peek out, blinking at the horizon. Everything is pink and blue, from the sky to the water. The water farther out is as bright as the sky itself but the waves that crash against the shore are white. It’s the beautiful scene that you snuck out for.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Seokmin says but when you turn to face him, he isn’t looking at the sunrise. He’s looking at you.

He’s still smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “That was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you say. “It was terrible.” You press your shoulder against his, and you don’t think you’re imagining the warmth seeping from him. “I still like you.”

“I like you, too,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Even as… a jellyfish?”

You groan. “I panicked! I’m still panicking, I wasn’t expecting you to just blurt out that you like me!”

Seokmin just laughs, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. You bury your face again, but this time against his chest, and it’s infinitely better than before. You listen to his heartbeat and you understand the stars in the sky, lingering in a moment that won’t last forever.

Just one more heartbeat. You watch the sunrise and smile.

#🌟 stars galaxy #svt reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt #seventeen #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #dk #dk x reader #dokyeom #dokyeom x reader #svt x reader #dk fluff #lee seokmin fluff

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minihotdog · 7 months

Text

Good ol' fishing boy

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x gn!Reader

a/n: idk. Simon is a big ol softie in this one

Summary: Simon learns how to fish

c/w: fake worm, maybe a swearword

Word Count: 1k

***

The weekend had finally come around. The usual hustle and bustle of the compound died down as everyone ran off to enjoy the little free time they’d been given.

“Hey, Lt!” You beam at the sight of your superior. “Whatcha got planned for today?” You stood with your fishing rods tucked under your arm and a backpack stuffed to its brim.

“Nothin’.” He sat at the table with his morning tea. He always had such a cold look, with or without his mask, but you were determined to try and break down at least one of his walls. You’d been working for the task force for about three months now, and he was the only one who you still didn’t know a thing about.

“You ‘otta come fishing with me. It’d be a good time, I promise.” You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for his response.

“Not up my alley.” He swiftly declines, leaving you taken aback.

In all my years, I’ve never heard a military man say no to fishing.

“Wha’d’ya gonna do? Sit here all day?” You say in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Oh c’mon, Lt.! What if I fall in the water and I can’t get out and I’m all by myself!” You clasp your hands in front of you as if you were about to get on your knees and beg. He sighs at what he referred to as your ‘American dramatics’.

“Fine, but keep the talking to a minimum.”

“Yaay!” You celebrate, causing the stern Brit to groan in annoyance.

***

The air nipped at your nose as you and Simon sat on the bank of the river. The mountains off in the distance were topped off with fresh snow. The warm sunlight would occasionally peak out from behind the grey clouds.

“Here ya go,” You hand him a rod and open your tackle box between the two of you. You start tying your hook to the line and reaching into the box to pull out a long black fake worm. You look over to Simon, motioning to the worm, “See this little guy? Bass love this shit.” He snorts lightly but you notice him go still when he looks at the contents of the box.

“So what do I do?” He asks, a little embarrassed. Most boys learned how to fish with their dads, unfortunately, his dad had been set on being a nightmare rather than an angler. You stop dead in your tracks, eyeing the man.

“You ever been fishing before?”

“No.”

You almost drop your worm,

“What?! Really?!”

He shoots you a look that says, ‘Cool it or else’.

“Your dad never took you when you were a kid?” You probe.

“We weren’t very close.” His eyes avoid yours and look out at the bend of the river. Simon wasn’t one to feel embarrassed about his upbringing, he saw it as something that made him the man he was today. It motivated him to be better than what he witnessed and to maybe even eliminate the horrors that many were forced to live with. But it came with a cost and that cost was the simple things other people had gotten to experience that he didn’t.

“I wasn’t close with mine either,” You sigh, hoping that you hadn’t brought up painful memories. His eyes were back on you at the revelation.

“I actually learned how to fish from the locals when I was stationed in Turkey.” You smile, recounting the memories from your time overseas. “I rented a pole out and asked a taxi driver to take me to a fishing store. The taxi driver could barely speak English but it was clear as day that he loved fishing. We talked the whole way to the store and he even went inside with me.” You chuckle, “I’d run into a group of ‘Turkish Uncles’ out fishing and they’d try to show me their tricks.”

You place your rod down on the rocky ground and motion for him to give you his. “I’ll show you,” Your words come out softly. “This part is easy.” You place the rod between your knees and grab a hook out of the box to show him.

“Now, there are all sorts of knots you can do but I use the Y/L/N special.” You put the line through the hole at the top of the hook and wrap the loose end a couple of times around the line coming directly from the rod.

“So you wrap it however many times, then you put it through the loop at the bottom. Pull it and then tie a knot.” He nods at you showing he understands, and his eyes examine the funny-looking knot.

“One time I went fishing with a friend of mine. He was the Bill Dance of trout.” You pause briefly to explain, “Bill Dance is an old man in the States that strikes fear in the hearts of Bass everywhere.” Simon laughs softly at your dramatics. “But, he took one look at my knot and I thought I was gonna die from embarrassment. He was too nice to tell me it looked awful, but it works just like any other.”

You gently clap your hands together, “Moving on, you know what these are?” You point to the contents inside your tackle box. Simon shakes his head, a smirk still playing on his lips. He almost felt like a young boy again, recanting the stories he’d heard in school of the other boys going out on the lake with their dads. Here he finally was.

“These are lures, a.k.a. Fake bait. They come in all shapes: Frogs, worms, little fish. Depending on the fish, some work better than others. Bass like the worm. Snakeheads, those angry demon fish, like the frogs.” You trail off stating the different lures for different fish as you grab a black worm out of the box.

“You can hook however you want, but I think this is what separates boys from men.” Simon’s little smirk grows briefly. He found the way you explained things to him to be endearing.

You grab the hook in one hand and hold the fake worm in the other. “You could do this,” You put the hook through the side of the worm and let it dangle.

“But you’d probably lose your lure on the weeds or from a strong bite.” You pull the worm off. “This is what I do because I’m a big fishing man,” You joke. Simon silently laughs again. He’d hear you constantly calling yourself jacked and joking that you were as big as him. Here you sat, looking about as big as the worm in comparison to him.

You put the hook through the top of the worm’s head, coming through the side. Your now cold fingers slide the worm to the top of the hook and poke through the middle of the squishy lure with the pointy tip nudging back into it. “This way, your hook stays weedless.” You hand him his rod before hooking your lure.

“Now we can rip some lips.” You laugh at your own joke as you stand and walk closer to the water. You point to the button your thumb rests on, looking back at him. “Hold that down when you cast.” You turn back to the water and give your rod a swift jerk. Your hook goes flying out to the middle of the river. Simon follows and casts his line out, the hook barely lands two feet away. He tuts quietly.

“Here,” You place your rod down and come up behind him. You place one hand on his left shoulder and the other over his hand on the base of the rod. “Keep your body facing the water, and swat it like this.” You run through the motion twice before backing away to watch him. This time he casts without a hitch. “Right on.” You smile at him and for the first time, he smiles back.

The two of you sit back down on the log. “Give it a couple of little tugs every once in a while and reel it in little by little. Or how the Turks taught me: Reel, reel, reel, action, action, action.”

“Reel, reel, reel, action, action, action.” He talks himself through the motions.

“Just like that. Now we wait.”

Moments pass of silence. You couldn’t complain, the view was beautiful.

“Is it true that fish can hear you?” Simon asks you, a bit of humor in his voice.

“No, I think that’s something dads made up so their kids would be quiet.” The two of you laugh. You liked this version of Simon. Relaxed, still quiet and reserved, but he wasn’t the same cold person you met as Ghost.

“Thank you… For teaching me.” He said suddenly.

“No problem, I could use a fishing partner.” You nudge him with your elbow. “Just don’t catch more fish than me or we’ll have a problem.”

#simon riley imagine #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #myfic

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Note

Yo Shark, there's almost no Goosexreader fic :( can you write a one shot in which the reader is Goose's love interest please?

Hey there honey, here is some love from Goose 💚 Don't worry, in this house Goose never died. :)

Pairing: Nick Bradshaw x Reader, Goose x Pilot!reader

Wordcount: 1k

Tags: none, this is fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A drop of sweat, similar to a shiny pearl, ran down your neck. The temperature of summer 86' was so high that some strands of your short blonde hair were sticking to the moist skin of your forehead and temples. When the bartender placed the fresh glass of beer you just ordered in front of you, you hastened to drink a first gulp in a desperate attempt to cool your body down. The sensation of freshness and of bubbles, fizzling on your tongue, took you to heaven. After several swigs, you gently pulled your lips away from the edge of the glass and tilted your head ear-to-shoulder on each side to relieve the tension in your neck.

"Finally." You whispered to yourself, leaving all the stress and noise of this hard day of training behind you. As much as you loved your job, the blast of the jet's engine and the smell of kerosene almost made you faint when they were mixed with such extreme weather. Today, even Hollywood had to be brought to the nursery. Not that you cared, but you had to admit that the man was usually quite tough.

Good Gracious Lord, Great Balls of Fire!

The joyful melody burst in the pub as the man playing hit the keys with his fingertips in expert gestures. It was as if he had done that all of his life. Soon, his voice sang along the music and filled the room with electrifying energy. You raised your head to sweep the room with your piercing eyes, curious until your gaze falls on the man sitting in front of the piano. You immediately recognized him - as if one could ignore who he was. Staring at his tall frame moving with the song he was playing, you shook your head. Goose always knew how to put on a show. He just loved the attention, but what he loved the most was the good mood he could bring to the people around him. Even if you were exhausted from your day, you could not help but wiggle your foot in rhythm just under the bar counter.

Goose finished up the song, hitting the keyboard one last time with a strong movement, then he threw his head back and howled like a wolf. Maverick, his partner in crime and fellow pilot, soon followed him in this primal yet quite funny way of celebrating the end of their spectacle.

"Did ya see that? We are on fire tonight!" Maverick boasted, wrapping one arm around his best friend's shoulders. His lips stretched in a charming smile adorned with perfect white teeth.

"That's maybe why the weather is so hoooot. That's because of us, honey."

They both burst into laughter as they stood up from the piano bench. They slapped each other butt before heading straight to the bar counter. The tall blonde man raised one hand to catch the attention of the bartender. "Two beers for two legends!" He laughed.

Your eyes followed each of the duo's moves as they sat on stools and clinked their beers together. Goose brought the glass to his lips, but as he did his warm brown eyes noticed you, sitting a little further away. A glimmer of delight sparkled in the chocolate pools his irises were. There we go ... You thought. Since the first day you were introduced to the squad, Goose had set his sights on you. Viper had barely left you with the other pilots and the tall blonde man started to hit on you. Yet, you always rejected him. You joined Top Gun to become the best female pilot of your times, not to frolic with some arrogant and horny soldiers. Being one of the few women in a military context was already difficult enough by itself to bother yourself with relationships. Nevertheless, Goose had something. A something that you always struggled to define. Of course, the man was kind of handsome: tall thin boy with charming traits, seductive brown eyes and a perfectly trimmed mustache embracing his upper lip. But his irresistible charisma had nothing to do with his looks. It was his whole attitude: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw was a sunshine. His humor and adorable silly attitude irradiated from him and infected all the people surrounding him. You probably would have fallen for him in another context... But life decided otherwise.

"Y/CS!" His voice cheered. He stood up from his stool to join you, pushing his best friend out of the way. Maverick jumped: he had almost spilled his beer. With one elegant movement, the dark-haired pilot spinned on the stool to observe Goose and Y/N talking. He could not help but smirk: Goose was going to go back home alone tonight once again, and he did not want to miss such a spectacle.

Goose hopped on the stool that was next to yours, and rest his elbow on the bar counter to press his chin against the back of his hands. You looked at him with one raised eyebrow.

"I am more than delighted to see you here. You're so beautiful tonight that I can compare you to a magnificent mirage in this desert of drunk soldiers and tipsy Madames." He said, making his best impression of a gentleman. Then, he leaned towards you with his most beautiful smile: "Would you bless a poor sinner like me with a dance?" His eyebrows wiggled in a more than flirtatious fashion.

A little chuckle escaped from your rosy lips. You stared at him silently for a few solid seconds before drinking the last sip of your beer: " Goose, Goose, Goose...How many times are you going to play this stupid game with me?"

"Until you say yes to me, honey." He winked, a mischievous grin sculpted on his tempting lips.

You leaned a bit more toward him, bringing your face a little bit closer to his. The luscious scent of his tanning spray and after-shave caressed your nose. You hummed, as discreetly as you can, before moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue.

"Don't be a silly goose."

"I'm nothing but a silly Goose."

"Alright. One dance and after that, you leave me alone." You gave up, rolling your eyes to show how annoyed you were -- but were you really that annoyed?

The young soldier leaped from the stool with a noisy "yee-haw". Doing so, he turned his head to look at Maverick. The dark-haired man had been as surprised as Goose at your positive answer. After weeks and weeks of rejection, you agreed to dance? He could not believe his ears. Delighted by his partner's astonishment, the tall blonde gave him the finger and turned his attention back to you again. Goose offered his hand, a charming smile on his lips. You could not help but chuckle… His charms definitely work on you. You followed him through the ocean of sweaty bodies dancing in the pub until you both reach a more breathable corner. “Alright, just focus on my eyes, nothing else,” Goose said, his voice turning into a soft melody sung in your ear. He pulled back his face slightly and pressed his hands on your hips. The single sensation of his palms’ warmth sent shivers down your spine. You felt him pressing a little bit more, bringing your body against his until your hips met. Goose”s chocolate eyes were locked in yours, drowning in their infinite beauty. You swallowed with a bit of difficulty as you abandoned your body in his hands. To be honest, you had never been a great dancer - or at least you had never danced with someone. Yet, Goose took you away with him in a slow dance, as delicate as a rose petal swirling in the wind. One minute into this dance was enough for you to make you forget everything that was surrounding you: the other pilots, the suffocating heat, and even the stress of your day. All that mattered was him, and the intoxicating perfume that was pleasantly tingling your nostril. You half-closed your eyes; your face resting in the crook of his neck.

“Bradshaw?”

“Yes, honey?” He answered, lowering his eyes but still dancing with snuggled in his arms.

You pulled back your face from him to dive your gaze into his. As you did so, a slight pink shade appeared on his cheeks. You were so dazzling he could barely breathe.

“What if you take me to bed or lose me forever?”

His face enlightened at your sweet words. Goose moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and parted them to speak: “Show me the way home…” He murmured, before kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Honey.”

#top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #Pete Maverick Mitchell #goose top gun #nick bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #tgm fandom #top gun 86 #pete mitchell fanfiction #iceman fic #Iceman top gun

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wuahae · 9 months

Note

congrats on 1k!!!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 i was wondering if I could propose: seungcheol + 12:17am + the swings at the park down the street? hope you have a great day!!!

[00:17] / swings at the park down the street

the night air sits a little chilly on seungcheol's skin, his t-shirt and jeans not doing much to keep the warmth on an september night. if he looked on the bright side, seungcheol supposes it's a good thing the alcohol comfortably buzzing in his system lets the cold turn into more of a cool breeze, but on the other hand...

"cheol, i think the world stopped spinning!"

seungcheol sighs, turning his head to you. you turn back to him, eyes shining bright as you lean your head on the swing chain. his jacket runs a little too big on you, the ends of the sleeves covering your palms as you hold onto the swing. "do you wanna go for round 2?"

"we have to go home," he chides, exasperated.

"oh relax," you wave off, pushing up the sleeve to take a good look at your empty wrist. "it's only um... 11:00! live a little!"

seungcheol whips his phone out, the time on the lockscreen glaring at full brightness. "it's midnight."

you pout, kicking the bark beneath your feet sullenly. your right heel comes flying off, landing somewhere between the park bench and the see-saw. "lame..."

seungcheol gives you a flat look, making a mental note to pick up your shoe before you leave the park. “you barely made it out of the karaoke bar in one piece, and you want to go for a round 2?”

“well i’m here, aren’t i? perfectly fine and normal!”

“really? what street are we on.”

"you know i'm bad with directions!"

he resists the urge to run a hand down his face. the only reason seungcheol even agreed to coming to the college mixer with you is because he knew you wouldn't fare well if left on your own. the last time you went out drinking, you threw up in the bushes a couple feet behind the street vendor, and the time before that, you'd drunk-dialed him at 3:00AM in tears, and when he managed to get out of the house wearing mismatching flip-flops ready to find you, your friends had managed to grab the phone from you and tell him that you were only crying over a stray cat that wouldn't bother to give you the time of day.

and of course, he was there for you both times, and all the times before that, which only meant that he needed to be there for you this time too. (seungcheol tries not to think about the implications of that statement for too long, otherwise he'll start feeling as stupid as jeonghan's judgemental looks tell him he is.)

you narrow your eyes, waggling your finger at him. "so are you gonna tell me about it?"

"about what?"

"the mixer!" you exclaim. "i saw nayoung making googly-eyes at you the whole time. did you get her number?"

seungcheol pauses. "who?"

you throw your hands in the air, exasperated. "um, lee nayoung? literally every guy in our year would pay to get her to even look at them for five seconds, and she was looking at you all night. for free!"

frowning, seungcheol tilts his head. “doesn’t ring a bell.”

you lean back on the swing, and seungcheol readies himself in case you lose balance and fall backwards. "you're so hopeless, cheol. i keep inviting you to these things cause everyone keeps calling you painfully single, but we end up having this conversation every time. isn't there anyone you like?"

yeah, he bites his tongue. you.

he could say it. he could say it right now. maybe if he said it, then it would be like ripping off a bandaid. quick—not quite painless, but it had to be better than existing in this weird limbo where he's the first one you call when you're drunk and you're the first person he thinks of telling when anything good in his life happens. if he said it, no matter the result, at least he wouldn't have to keep it a secret anymore. at least you would know.

but instead, seungcheol says:

"it's late. we need to go back."

there's a brief pause, one where you shift in your swingseat and the cold metal presses against the skin of his palms as he wrestles with the weight of everything he's squashed down inside him, yet again.

“…can we at least get fishcakes on our way home?" you ask, and you at least have the decency to sound a little sheepish about it.

your shoulder moves slightly, jacket slipping off your shoulder. seungcheol sighs, walking over to adjusting it, before zipping it up fully. it would only get colder through the night. he really was an idiot.

"yeah. the usual?"

#hope you like it!!#seungcheol x reader #svt x reader #svt x you #scoups x reader #svt imagines #seungcheol x you #scoups x you #1k event!

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senditcolton · 4 months

Text

What Did I Do to Deserve You?

Smoothing your fingers down your lover’s tie, fixing where you lover couldn’t tie it right, your lovers gentle affectionate gaze on you the entire time, even though you are lost in concentration.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 1k | warnings: just rewriting history

It was odd to think that this high that you and Tyson had been riding since June 26th was coming to an end. It was October and the two of you had more than enough time to celebrate – almost five months to be exact. But you had never seen your boyfriend so happy and you wanted that feeling to never fade.

Colorado Avalanche. Stanley Cup Champions. It was an achievement that meant so much to any hockey player and to any hockey city. But it felt like it meant that much more to Tyson.

He was here through the worst of it. He stayed here through all of the struggles the team faced. And he was one of the six remaining players – along with JT, EJ, Gabe, Nathan, and Mikko – that had experienced the lowest of lows (a 48-point season) and were now experiencing the highest of highs.

A ring ceremony.

In a few hours, you and Tyson would be off to a ridiculously expensive hotel, seated in a ballroom decked out in burgundy and blue, and Tyson would receive a piece of jewelry that symbolized the lofty goal he had accomplished. A ring that would stay with him even after the greatest trophy in all of sports was passed onto a different team.

This last night that the two of you could fully celebrate the Colorado Avalanche’s achievements before Tyson and his teammates had to try and do it all over again.

You are perched on the edge of the mattress as you watch Tyson move in and out of the bedroom, grabbing the final accessories for his outfit. You can tell he is excited simply from the way he moves, the energy surging through his body. A small giggle falls from your lips as you watch him fumble to put on his cufflinks, it taking him a few more tries than usual to slide the metal into place.

He hears your laughter, glancing over his shoulder to you with a grin on his face.

“What’s so funny?” he chirps, his tone playful.

“Nothing,” you reply, leaning forward, your elbows resting on your knees. “You’re just really adorable, that’s all.”

“Adorable? I thought we were going for sexy tonight?” he asks, spinning to face you. “Isn’t that why you insisted I wear this suit?”

You take his words as an invitation to shamelessly let your eyes rake down his body, the grey checkered plaid fabric hugging his athletic frame.

“You do look good, don’t get me wrong,” you start, your eyes connecting back to his brown ones. “But maybe a tie would pull this look from handsome to downright gorgeous.”

“Then you should go and pick one out for me,” he says, his eyes bright although you can see a glimmer of something more underneath. “Whichever you like best.”

You slide off from the bed, waltzing past him and into his walk-in closet. You find the drawer with his ties and pull it open, your eyes dancing over the colors. It takes a moment but you finally settle on a cool purple, lifting it out of its spot and wrapping the silky fabric around your hand.

Wandering back into the bedroom, you hold up the tie to him. He looks over it, his eyebrows furrowing before he gives you a small nod. Tyson holds his hand out, ready to take the material from you but you shake your head.

You don’t speak as you take those final steps towards him, reaching up to lift his shirt collar before draping the silk around his neck. Your hands deftly move, crossing the material over itself as you complete the knot. It a gentle tug to pull the loop snug against his collar, smoothing down the material and holding it in place as you grab the silver tie bar sitting on the dresser.

You pin the material securely to his shirt, your fingers sliding down one last time before you look up at Tyson. His eyes are already on you, the dark irises so full of adoration. Even though it is a look that you have seen cast in your direction a hundred times before, it never fails to make your knees weak.

It is instinctual, the way Tyson leans down and you lift your body up to close the space between you. His lips are soft on yours and you feel his arms land on your waist, pulling you closer. Your palms lay flat against his chest as the two of you continue to kiss, not wanting to pull away from each other. Eventually, and very reluctantly, the two of you separate but you don’t leave his embrace just yet.

“Congratulations, baby,” you murmur, looking up at him, a loving smile playing at your lips. “You deserve all this and more.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to press another quick peck on your lips. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could have,” you say. Tyson releases his hold from around you, letting you any last-minute items scattered around the room, preparing for your departure. You turn back to see Tyson looking himself over in the full-length mirror, his hands coming to slightly adjust the tie.

“I like it,” he tells you, his fingers running down the silky material. “It’s like a dark blue, right?

“Babe, it’s purple,” you say, the sentence punctuated by your amused tone. You see Tyson look up, his eyes wide as he meets your gaze in the mirrors reflection.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding your head.

You wander over to him, looping your arm through his, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as you both look at your reflections.

“So,” you continue, that mischievous tone still evident in your words. “I guess you could’ve won the Stanley Cup without me. But making sure your colorblind ass doesn’t look like a walking trainwreck… that’s another story.”

Tyson laughs, the sound of it pulling a giggle from your own lips. He places another quick kiss on the top of your head before taking a firmer hold of your arm and directing you out the door.

Excited to celebrate his accomplishments. Enthusiastic to have you by his side.

#nicole writes #tyson jost blurb #tyson jost fluff #buffalo sabres blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #valentine blurbs 2k24

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 2 years

Note

Can you write a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader where Reader uses Castiel to make the Winchester jealous but Castiel being Castiel ruins her plan (everything in a funny way)?

Pairings: Dean X Reader

A/N: Loved this idea and knew I had to get it out while I had the time!! Thank you so much for the request and I hope this is what you were looking for!!! Inbox is always open for you all!!

Word count: 1k

“Okay, look. It’s called pretending. I need you to pretend you like me to make Dean jealous. Got it?” You looked at Cas for his reaction and was met with his classic face of confusion.

“I already like you. We are friends. I thought friends like each other?” Damn, this was going to be harder than you thought.

“No, no you’re right. Umm, I need you to pretend you like me more than friends. Can you do that?” Your mind was struggling to figure out how to explain things in human terms for him.

“Like lovers?” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “Yes, Cas! Like lovers! But it is just pretend until Dean realizes how stupid he is being.” While you were trying to think of how to display your newfound love for each other, you didn’t see Castiel shake his head.

“I do not condone lying.” Shit.

Sam let out a short chuckle and closed his laptop. “This is painful to watch.” You pointed a finger over at him, “Not helping.” You started pacing knowing Dean was going to be back soon and Cas was going to disappear without notice. Time was not on your side.

“You seem to be in distress. Are you okay?” The amount of will power to not roll your eyes at the clueless angel deserved an award. Sam’s muffled laugh across the room wasn’t helping either.

You sighed, “Yes, I’m okay. Just trying to figure out how to get Dean’s attention for once and clearly this wasn’t the way to go.”

The door opened and the oldest Winchester walked in with a beer in one hand and food in the other. Without warning, Cas put an arm around your shoulders and nearly shouted, “Y/N and I are lovers.”

You winced at how forward that sounded. Sam tried his hardest to keep it together but ended up choking on his water making the situation that much worse. Making eye contact with Dean was something you planned on avoiding for the rest of your life, but his voice wasn’t something you could tune out.

“Ah, that’s great, I guess. Mazel tov.” The confusion was clear, and you realized now how horrible of an idea it was to rope Cas into this mess. The weight of his arm disappeared and when you looked over, you noticed he was gone. At least the main variable in this situation was away for the time being.

“I’m going to shower.” Were the only words you managed to squeak out before literally running away from your problems. You turned the water on as hot as it could go in hopes the burning sensation would help you calm down from the embarrassment.

You stepped under the water and leaned your forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, wondering if you had lost your damn mind. Of all people to try and make Dean jealous of, Cas was the farthest one from success. You would’ve had better luck paying some random guy at the bar to act like he was hitting on you.

But you couldn’t help but smile at how quickly he was to help you. Even after he told you how much he didn’t like it. You sent him a quick thanks and told him how lucky you were to have him as a friend.

Your stomach rumbled and the cheeseburger you sent Dean out for was calling your name. As much as you wished to hide in this gross bathroom forever, you knew one of the boys would come drag you out eventually.

As you opened the door, conversation seemed to stop immediately, but you kept your head down and went to sit at the table with the two of them. The room was silent besides some old soap opera and the sounds of food being eaten. Maybe if you finished this burger quickly, you could get away with going to bed early.

“So, how long have the two of you been lovers?” There goes that plan. You could see the smirk on his face without having to look up.

“Shut it, Winchester.” You focused on your food, hoping the green-eyed hunter would drop the subject, but luck was nowhere near on your side today.

“If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was say something, sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide as you realized what he said and whipped your head over to Sam. “What did you tell him?”

He lifted his hands up in surrender, “The two of you need to figure out whatever this is between you. I thought watching Dean pout at the bar was sad, but this took the cake.”

You leaned back in your seat and ran a hand through your hair. “Yeah, I realize now how different humans and angels are. But he played his part as well as can be expected.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed, “I don’t know what was funnier. The way he said it or the look on your face.”

You threw a fry at his face and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” Before any of you had the chance to say something more, the angel of the hour appeared by your side.

“As lovers, do we need to obtain a legal marriage license?” You couldn’t help but laugh this time and placed your hand on his. “While I do appreciate you going to great lengths for me, it is no longer needed.”

Cas looked over to Dean and asked, “You have realized how stupid you were being? That was the goal of this, right?” You smiled and nodded.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, Cas. I realize now how stupid I’ve been. Thanks for watching out for my girl though.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean x you #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #spn edit #spn #fluff #chelsea writes

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justagirlinafandomworld · 2 years

Text

I posted 2,626 times in 2022

219 posts created (8%)

2,407 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@firefly-in-darkness

@justagirlinafandomworld

@princessmisery666

@deanwinchesterswitch

@gone-to-fight-the-fairies

I tagged 2,581 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#mcu - 307 posts

#just a girl reading fics - 280 posts

#spn - 262 posts

#dean winchester - 150 posts

#jensen ackles - 98 posts

#movies - 96 posts

#dean winchester x reader - 94 posts

#ffc4 sign ups - 90 posts

#flash fiction challenge 4 - 89 posts

#comment reblog - 82 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#but if that's what happens that's what happens i'll go prepare my flight to jump in a volcano it's cool i always wanted to go to hawaii

My Top Posts in 2022:

MESS

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You learn the side effects of sex pollen first hand. Bucky doesn't know what to do. But Dean does.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Language. Sex pollen. Oral Sex (Female Receiving). First time writing for: Established polyamory & DD/LG relationship.

Word Count: 1k (plus 4 little words!)

Prompts: She’s pulling on the sheets. | “She might be your girl, but she’s calling me Daddy.” | A GIF described in bold.

A/N: Written for the fabulous @negans-lucille-tblr and her birthday bash! Happy birthday Bee! Hope you get lots of presents! 💗

He ran his hands back through his hair, the sounds of your moans driving him up the wall. You scratched at the door like a trapped animal and it was all Bucky could do not to open it.

Something was wrong.

Had been wrong since you came back from your last hunt.

“Baby,” you whined through the door. “Please…”

He had made a call to the one person who would know what the fuck was going on and who hadn’t gone that far after dropping you off.

“Dean,” he greeted upon opening the front door.

“James.”

“Did I interrupt something,” Bucky guessed, eyeing the suit and tie that was in place of the usual flannel and blue jeans.

“It doesn’t matter. Based on everything you’ve told me, you’re not going to like what needs to be done.” The sound of you falling to the floor in the bedroom behind them interrupted Dean and both he and Bucky turned to the door.

“You’ll help her feel better?”

Dean paused at the genuine concern in Bucky’s voice. He had nothing against the man, they both just so happened to be in love with the same woman. And the agreement to keep their relationships separate was about to change in a drastic way.

“You’re gonna wanna brace yourself before we go in there. She’s your girl, right,” Dean waited for Bucky to nod before he took a deep breath and continued. “The moment we walk in there, she’s going to be calling me Daddy.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. But when Bucky made a face, one that clearly expressed confusion but the willingness to punch him, Dean shrugged and walked past him to at least hide it.

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99 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

Welcome to the reading list for January 2022!

Take a dive into some wonderful fic that I had the pleasure of reading this month. From fluffy drabbles to angst multi-part fics, you can find a little bit of everything for that particular mood you are in.

Summaries and warnings have been provided as listed by writers. Remember, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Read what you like and share what you love. ❤

Happy reading!

2022 reading list | fic rec masterlist

Beautiful dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

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103 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

I always loved this scene haha

Maybe one where the reader sits in the backseat? Or something completely different. Go nuts

Thank you for the request, sweetie! I decided to go nuts 🥰

Title: Time Warp

Word Count: 245

Summary: You and Dean are stuck in a time warp, jumping from one of his memories to another with no end in sight.

Warnings: Time travel. The image of two Deans in one space. Crack, fluff – Look this is really just meant to be fun.

See the full post

125 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

I'm excited to share all the new fics I've read for the month of June, from my own exploration to taking part in the Champion Week challenge hosted by the fabulous @cockslutpadalecki and @maladaptivexxdaydreaming. Thank you, both of you for hosting this fantastic event that introduced me to the talents of new writers. And, of course, I want to say a great big THANK YOU to the writers on this list. You are incredible, thank you for sharing your works on this hellsite. ❤️

This list is alphabetical by fandom (mostly), then by character. Summaries and warnings are included as provided by the authors.

Read what you like and share what you love!

2022 reading list | fic rec masterlist

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

See the full post

127 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Title: Drowning in Silence

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Gen!Reader

Word Count: 894

Summary: Silence feeds the insecurities deep within. You can either drown in it, or break it.

Warnings: ANGST. Break-up. Low self-worth.

Bingo Squares Filled: @spnmixedbingo – dream sequence. @howbadcanitbebingo - woke up, and it was all a dream.

A/N: This is written for @negans-lucille-tblr ‘s nlthreenager writing challenge, celebrating her blog’s three-year anniversary with so many good angsty prompts. My prompt was you can’t deny how hard I tried from the song Easy On Me by Adele. Watch out Bee, I may be back for more! To everyone, I hope this breaks your heart just a lil’. 😘

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

See the full post

131 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

This is amazing. I love my longest tag! Pretty sure it was one of my heartfelt reactions to @jawritter 's Too Close to Gone which is a Dean series I still highly recommend.

And thank you everyone for supporting my Dean stories. This really was his year.

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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italoniponic · 2 years

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𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐝 - Cherry's Harvesting ending letter

Hello, my lovely people! Cherry here.

It’s with great pleasure — and relief, in my humble honesty — to announce that the “Cherry’s Harvesting” event made to celebrate 100 followers is over. This all began on June 3th but, due to some complications in real life that comes and goes, the event inevitably extended to the beginning of September.

Which was good, actually. You all got time to submit your lovely and amazing ideas to me and I had the time to sit and work through all of them. Some I couldn’t do, some I had to delay, but it was good anyways. And look at you! I watched this blog slowly grow into 100 followers and then… overflow with almost 830 people until now.

That was a surprise right there. I got scared that I would have to go from one celebrating event to another in so little time but I’ll have other things for 1k followers, don’t worry. But let me give a special first thank you for all of you <3

Holding this event was a unique experience. First of all, it made me understand why most authors set a date for their requests and not a specific number — I always asked myself why that, now I kinda get it. Not that I have come up with a perfect method for this, I will certainly try the other way next time just to see how it wents.

My nitpick with this is because I was planning for this being a, maybe, short event. “Short event with 50 requests? Are you crazy?” Yes, and a little bit ingenuous. It was my first event after all.

But maybe it was for the best that this event got so extended over the months. I had the chance to meet new fun and cool people, receive interesting ideas and, not only exercise, but also develop my writing abilities. If you read closely, the first requests aren’t exactly similar to the final ones just as the mid-ones.

We had a few scenario requests which I’ll gladly highlight because, even though I promised short scenarios, they were long to write — especially the last ones.

Starting with “Give Me Your Real Smile” (Azul, 1962 words), simple, funny, cute. “Part of Your World” (octatrio, +800 words each), they’re lovely to make, especially with the Finding Nemo ambience sounds I found. “You Got Riddle-rolled” (Riddle, 1520 words), funny and cute as our short angry king. “Once Upon a Song” (Malleus, 2520 words), it was kinda hard in the beginning to make, I had to do some revisions and such, but turned out pretty good.

“Tsum-dere” (Riddle, Jamil & Malleus, 550 words each), the beginning is deep and by the end of each one, I felt like I was high. “Flustered Beauty” (Silver, 1,4k words) was absolutely fun to write and think about! “Paint Me Your Dream” (Sebek, 2,4k words), it opened my eyes to the possibility that I can simp for Sebek more than I thought I could. “Secret Admirer’s Wish” (Jamil, 2,2k words), what an absolutely lovely story to make. I love it with all my heart!

“I Wonder For You” (Silver, 2,7k words) was the longest story I made until late-August. It was difficult in the beginning, but by the mid-part, I wrote all in one go. Then, Idia looked at Silver and said “pff, noob”. “Winter Melts Into Spring” (Idia, 6,6k words). That’s it, that’s the sentence.

Talking about writing, some of you may had watch me go into a decent of madness in the first weeks about how I couldn’t write headcanons properly — at least, like most people in the fandom writes them — and the actually few requests that I can say are closer to something “proper, normal” is “Crazy Little Thing About Love” (short trio) and “Fighting High and Low” (Floyd & Leona) because they have simpler plots.

One may say that I’m wrong and the style of combining narration in bullet points is what I did the entire event. And I’m not so frustrated about this now, which is good.

The practice of writing something — be what it be — is a great exercise in general. I’ve learned a lot of things and most importantly, I discovered my own headcanon style. I’m not new to the world of writing but I only tried a few of these before, maybe even started in a format that everyone did but slowly developed into something more.

Something me. Something Cherry.

I started to use this blog more in December, I don’t remember now why. Before, I was nothing more than a ghost here and now, I understand what I want to do: doing my things my way. I do memes, I make some commentary, I react to cards, read and write fanfiction. I had the chance to meet other fandom writers and I’m forever grateful for this blessing.

I’ll use the chance to also say that I will answer to all people who reblogged or commented on my event posts. I didn’t do it before because I wanted to finish the event and reply all in one go. Again, experimenting in the perspective of this being my first writing event.

For now, I’ll take some time to rest a little from writing requests — I received two after-close event and some are a special bit of characters that I couldn’t write on the event because of character-limit — and maybe get the chance to read some more fanfics. I need to start losing my shame — or how old people in my land would say, “lose my wood-face” — and actually reblog more of what I read.

My ask box is open for headcanon commentary and sharing. We have two big series until now: “MC Clothe Saga” and “Courting Customs” (I made a whole list of headcanons now + other masterlists I'll add on my new welcome). And I want some more! I’ll make some occasional theme changes since it’s the end of harvest season for me and I actually invite you to ask me whatever you want about the Cherry’s Harvesting.

Maybe why this name or something about my writing you found interesting, things like that. Let’s interact more. Sincerely, the reasons I love so much characters like Jack, Silver and Idia for example is because I’m very reserved but what I need is actually a chance of opportunity.

So, don’t be afraid to talk to me. I’ll not bite! Maybe I can’t answer something, this can happen, but in general, I’m like a cat. Grumpy at first sight but can be warmed up with enough food and care.

In conclusion, I just want to thank all of you who read my stories, requested, commented, liked, reblogged and all of the support you have been giving me the past months. The number of times I laughed with myself at seeing your opinions, your comments and everything cute and funny you said about my stories, isn’t easy to calculate.

You make me a very happy writer and I hope we can meet again in the future. But, please, if you can, stick with me even past this autumn. Let’s drink hot chocolate in the winter, pick cherry blossoms in the spring, eat cherries in the summer and have a spooky talk in autumn and so on.

Thank you for everything. Hope you have a lovely day, an amazing week, an awesome month and a great end of the year that comes close. Cheers!

with love,

italoniponic aka Cherry

[Cherry's Harvesting masterlist]

#twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #cherry's harvesting #ending event letter #cherry's mumbling #cherry's mumbling about twst

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racingtoaredlight · 2 years

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Investments Never Realized

By this time, I was into Wes, and I explained to my dad, “I need a guitar that’s more like that first one.” I made a deal with him where if I could earn more money and sell the Mustang, I could get another guitar. Also, they could kind of see that this was happening quickly, and I could play a little bit almost right away. So I got permission again to spend my own money to get something better. After I found somebody to buy the Mustang, my dad and I found an ES-175 for sale. The guy wanted $120, and dad talked him down to $100. And he also had a bass, and he offered to sell us that for $75. My dad said, “We’ll give you 60,” and the guy went for it. That was a ’58 Fender Precision, which I later gave to Jaco Pastorius, who did his whole thing on it, and that was the bass that Mark Egan played all those years. Then Steve Rodby played it when he joined, but it was stolen in Argentina.

-Pat Metheny

I just want to put this steal in perspective. He got a 1960 Gibson ES-175 AND a 1958 Fender Precision Bass for a COMBINED $160. Let me put it to you this way...ONE pickup from that 175 would be about...what?...12 times that combined $160 today.

Currently, there are no 1960 blonde 175′s available. If there were, add a good $1,500-$2,000 to this price. And add that same premium again due to the incredibly, ultra-rare bound headstock...something I legitimately have never seen for sale (we’re talking maybe dozens have been specially made with a bound headstock, on a guitar that was in production since 1948**).

...of course, this return of 23,962.50% was never realized, but it’s still fun to think about. And that’s with a P-Bass without the original case (add an extra $1k).

He mentioned simply giving that P-Bass away to Jaco (god, whomever stole this in Argentina is sitting on a fucking gold mine right now), so he got bubkus on this particular Holy Grail instrument.

As for the ES-175?

Pat Metheny is one of the hardest working musicians I can think of. In the three decades this guitar was in use, it was almost constantly in his hands...as he didn’t even carry a backup. After three decades of abuse, this guitar was literally held together with duct tape and a toothbrush.

I’d say he got his money’s worth in the end.

**This is the only other bound headstock ES-175 I’ve seen played by a famous musician...Bill Frisell’s teacher specially ordered a 175 with an ebony fretboard, bridge, a P-90 instead of the stock PAF humbucker, and a maple neck...making this guitar more like Gibson’s L-5 than a true 175.

I’ve seen maybe a dozen of these bound headstock 175′s online...almost all specially ordered and in the hands of the first or second person the guitar was purchased by. Frisell’s guitar is pretty cool...it was stolen in Boston, and 40 years later, he found it in a Seattle guitar store 12 miles away from his current residence. Crazy circumstance.

0 notes

gaysimpsstuff · 3 years

Text

Accidentally Injuring Their Partner PT. 2

Part One Here

Y’all- the last one is like, my most popular post. As I’m currently writing this, it’s literally almost at 1K notes so... yeah. This one needed a lot of thought and effort if it’s going to meet people’s expectations.

Please read the note I added at the end of the fic

Genre: angst

Type: drabbleshot

Warnings: gore, mentions of hospitals, crying, cursing, toxic relationships, self blame, some real ‘who cares how I feel, how do you feel?’ kind of unhealthy vibes, hazbin hotel reference (found in Todoroki’s section), talking down on oneself,

Other: this was requested multiple times, but this bitch was planning it before it was requested haha I’m so cool no I’m not I still feel like shit lmao.

Angst Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy @catcherisvibin @thesubtlewhore

Tomura Shigaraki

It was really all he could do to stare at you.

You’d moved from the theatre to an abandonment hospital, mostly to find any leftover supplies to help with your arm, or rather, lack thereof.

You’d only sort of expected this. Tomura lashing out at you, you getting hurt, you just didn’t expect it to result in you loosing a fucking arm.

Toga was helping to change your bandages, and Magne was speaking quietly with Twice, Spinner, and Compress.

Dabi was speaking with Shigaraki outside the room, and you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You were glad, you didn’t exactly want to hear his voice right now.

You didn’t think you were being that annoying, you thought you were just helping him. And you usually did. When he’d have his little tantrums, he’d get upset at you sure, but he’d never hurt you.

You knew you didn’t do anything differently than usual, maybe he was just more stressed than ordinary? Maybe you should’ve recognized that and altered yourself to fit accordingly.

Or maybe he’d just been horrible, and attacked you for no reason, and you had just been trying to help him.

You knew it was more likely the latter, but you couldn’t help but blame yourself. People don’t just try to kill their partners that they love so much

The door slid open, and Dabi stepped in. He glanced around the room, waving his hand to usher Magne, Spinner, Twice, and Compress out of the room. Today stood up, but you grabbed her hand.

Dabi pushed the door open a little wider, and your boyfriend stepped inside. For once, you were glad he had that horrible hand in his face, you knew that if he took it off you’d probably vomit.

“Call us in if you need anything.” Dabi offered uncharacteristically, sliding the door shut behind him.

Everything was quiet.

Not even the people in the hallway wanted to say anything.

He slowly walked towards you, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

You sat cross-legged on the creaky hospital bed, staring at him as Toga held your hand.

“Why are you here?” You asked quietly.

“I- I um. Why is she here?” Tomura ignored your question, pointing to Toga next to you.

“She’s here because she chopped off my arm after you dusted it. She’s here because she saved my life. Why are you here, Tomura?”

One of his hands lifted to his neck, scratching lightly.

“Shit- I didn’t want anyone else in here-“

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to see you loose yourself and hurt me more? Don’t want anyone here to save me?” You snapped.

“You- you know I didn’t mean it-“

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not, Shigaraki.” He flinched away when you spat out his last name like that. “I still got hurt. I lost a fucking arm because of you. How horrible are you that you have to cover up your own insecurities by trying to kill me? No really, I could have died.”

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, nails digging deeper into his neck. “I love you, okay? And I promised I’d protect you so-“

“So you broke your promise in the worst way possible.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed, squeezing Toga’s hand before letting go. You walked up to Shigaraki, lifting your hand and gripping his shoulder tightly.

“I’m going.” You whispered. “I can’t be around you. I still have family outside the League, friends that aren’t villains. I can build myself a semi-normal life. I’ll be happy without you.” You turned back to Toga, offering her a smile. “You can come over whenever you want, you’re my friend.” You headed towards the door.

You paused when you heard a soft noise, like a gargled scream. You turned around, seeing Shigaraki shaking.

“No, no please no- don’t go!” He spun around, grabbing your shoulders. You shoved him off you in an instant, curling into yourself

“GET OFF ME!” You screamed. But he was already launching himself at you again, you saw his palm flying towards your face. This time, it wasn’t an accident.

And you knew you wouldn’t make it out this time.

You were pulled back by a strong force, realizing Magne was holding you tight. Compress and Dabi were on either side of Shigaraki, holding him back, while Twice had ran to Toga.

“No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me!” He screamed, the hand fell loose on his face, tumbling down to the floor. You turned away, not wanting to see him.

You could only imagine his expression.

“Goodbye, Shigaraki.” You whispered, ducking out of Magne’s grip and rubbing off.

“Goodbye.”

Touya Todoroki/ Dabi

It had been a week since he’d seen you, a week since he’d felt your hands on his. A week since he’d heard your voice. A week since he’d seen your smile.

A week since he’d burned you.

Called you inferior.

Threatened to kill you.

Well there was certainly a reason why he hadn’t gone to see you since the incident.

But...

He missed you.

He felt so guilty, knowing what he’d said and done to you, and he needed to see you.

Maybe he was just being selfish.

Maybe he knew he’d done something wrong.

Maybe he needed to call you.

He flipped his phone upside down, then right side up again on the counter of the bar.

Toga sat on a stool next to him, tapping her hands against the marble in boredom.

“So... what’s up with you?” She asked, cocking her head and glancing at him.

“Like I’m telling a brat like you.” He growled, flipping his phone over again.

“You’ve been off all week!” She exclaimed, leaning towards him. “Somethings happened to you.”

“If i tells you a little, will you shut up?”

“Mhm mhm!”

“Ughhhhh fine. I had a fight with someone close to me. I... I really hurt them. I know it. I haven’t spoken to them in a week.”

“So... Dabi has a soft spot?”

“That’s not the point of this. Also say that again and I’ll kill you.”

“Oookay then. You should just call them. Say something to them and apologize.” She offered with a shrug.

Dabi sighed, pressing his face into his hands.

“They don’t want to talk to me. Trust me on that.”

“Welp- that’s just my advice. Cent for my thoughts kind of thing except you didn’t pay me. You owe me a penny.”

Toga shrugged, hopping off the chair and leaving the room.

“Don’t owe you shit.” Dabi grumbled, glowering down at his phone again. He pulled up your contact, staring at the picture he’d set for you.

You had a bright smile, emoji hearts decorating your cheeks. It was from your first ‘date.’ When you’d hung out at your place after he broke in looking for shelter and food.

You’d taken care of him, let his spend the night, and even offered to let him stay whenever he needed to.

You were an Angel on earth.

And he’d burnt you.

Called you dirty.

And selfish.

You were anything but.

Ring

“Why the hell are you calling me?”

“I-“

“Dabi. Why are you calling me? You hate me, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you...”

“Jeez, coulda fooled me.”

“Baby...”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I- I didn’t mean it.” He choked out. “Everything I said, I didn’t mean it. And I-“

“I really don’t care. The doctors said my arms would scar. I’m burnt and scarred like you. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to achieve? Make me like you so that no one would want me? So that only you could have me?”

Yes

“No! I never wanted to hurt you, ba- Y/n please,”

“Please what? Please what, Dabi? What do you want from me? Huh? You want me to cradle you and say is all going to be okay? You want me to kiss your scars and tell you you’re beautiful? You want me to suck your dick and tell you I love you? After everything you’ve put me through?”

“I-“

“It’s not just you burning me. You’ve left me for days without contact, and then showed up like nothing’s happened! You’ve hit me and then groveled and cried for my mercy! You’ve made me do so much shit for you in bed that I never wanted to do! Our entire relationship, I was scared you’d get sick of me and kill me!”

“You really thought that?”

“Well guess what motherfucker? You can’t come after me! I’ve told the police what happened. Everything between us. They’re helping me move across the country. You’ll never see me again. Happy?”

“No. No no I’m not happy why would I be happy? You made me happy, when I didn’t even know what the word meant, you don’t have to go through with this, please don’t go through with this!”

“Don’t flatter me. I never made you happy. Nothing could make you happy except watching the world burn. I don’t make you happy, Dabi-“

“Yes you do!”

“Just shut up. I’m going to hang up. If I’m being honest... I’ll miss you. You made me happy. But with so much anger and fear surrounding you, it’s hard to even remember the last time we were happy together.”

“I’m... I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Beep

You were gone.

Shouto Todoroki

If you thought Shouto was quiet before, you should see him now, wait, you were seeing him now, in class, eyes boring into your spine.

You still had a large bandage on your face, being hit in the face with plus added fire power is bound to leave a mark that lasts for over three days.

Did I mention it had been three days now?

It’s very hard to ignore Shouto, seeing as you were in the same class and lived in the same dorms.

Plus everyone in class wanted to know what happened between the two of you, why Shouto seemed so down, why you had the bandage on your face, and if it was all connected.

You’d only told one person what had gone down between the two of you, and that was Bakugou.

Which maybe was a mistake, because he took to trying to fight Todoroki every time he saw him, and repeatedly told you that he ‘fuckin knew that icy-hot bastard was a good-for-nothing bag of of poorly packaged horse shit.’

You appreciated his comfort, but it hurt you every time he said something about Todoroki.

“I don’t get why you’re defending the scumbag. His hand hasn’t even healed off your face yet!”

You and Bakugou were heading to the dorms after class, and he had gone on his usual tangent about how Todoroki did this, Todoroki did that, Todoroki was an asshole, etc etc.

“I mean... he’s technically still my boyfriend. And he’s been nothing but kind to me up until this point. He just... he was stressed, and I was being a bother. I’m sure the injury will fade at some point, then he’ll talk to me again and we can get back to normal.” you shrugged, rubbing at the back of your neck. “We’ll be fine.”

“You know what you are? A pushover.” Bakugou glared at you.

“Wha- I am not! Where did you get that idea?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe from the fact that You forget to check in with how you feel and keep thinking only about that Half n Half bastard! ‘Oh, he must be so upset with himself!’ Fuck that! How do you feel?”

You kept your eyes on the ground, speeding up. Bakugou grabbed your sleeve, tugging you backwards. His hands found your shoulders, thumbs rubbing soft circles. Your breath hitched, did Shouto ever do this for you?

Not that you could remember.

“I feel... nervous.” you admitted. “I’m nervous that he meant what he said to me. That I’m nothing but a bother to him. I’m nervous that he’ll never come and talk to me, never apologize. I’m worried that if he does talk to me, he’ll think it was my fault. It wasn’t was it?”

You looked up at Bakugou warily, and squeaked when he tightened his grip on your shoulders.

“The fuck? Of course it’s not! Idiot.” he poked your forehead, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Keep talking.”

“Um... I’m...” you took a deep breath. “I’m angry. I’m angry that he hasn’t talked to me. I’m angry about what he said. I’m angry that he even hit me to begin with. If we were training, of course it’d be different, but we weren’t training. And he hurt me. And now I’m doubting everything between us.”

Bakugou was silent, Cardinal eyes met yours. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and for a moment, you feared Bakugou would try to blow your ass up for being a pathetic little weakling.

I mean... compared to people like Todoroki and Bakugou, you were right?

Bakugou took a step forward, pulling you into his arms. You held your breath, wondering if he was going to finally snap and kill you.

But... it felt nice.

You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his body and tugging him a little closer. You buried your face into his uniform shirt, body shaking a little as you cried.

You almost wanted to scream, but then the school would panic.

So you just cried, sobbing into his arms and letting him hold you. His embrace was war and comforting, nothing like you’d felt from your so-called boyfriend.

Maybe he was right, maybe you really shouldn’t try to think about him.

You did deserve better.

You sniffled, pulling off Bakugou with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Bakugou. I really needed that. And you’re right.”

“What was that second thing?”

“You’re right.”

“Hmmm?” Bakugou cupped a hand around his ear, feigning deafness.

“Oh my goodness- I said you’re right!”

“That’s it.” he patted you on the shoulder, proud smirk traced across his features. You chuckled. “Now you’re going to tell that to Mr. Daddy Issues and get the fuck over him.”

“Alright, but you’re coming with me!” he nodded, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you returned to the dorms, heading to his dorm.

You paused just outside his door, knocking lightly. Bakugou was a few feet behind you, out of the way, but close enough to step in if something were to happen.

The door swung open slowly, revealing a bored-looking Todoroki. WHen his eyes landed on you, he jumped a little, taking a step back. His hand tightened around the doorknob, his other hand gripping his pants

“Y-Y/n-“ he stuttered, eyes flickering between you and Bakugou. “I-“

“We need to talk.”

“Listen I- I’m sorry!” He exclaimed.

“Todoroki, I don’t think you get it. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it. You might have scarred me, so your one mistake might stay with me my whole life!”

“I know.” His head drooped, and his grip on his pants loosened. “I know. I’m- I’m just like him.”

“Him?”

“I promised I was nothing like him but here we fucking are!”

“Shoto what are you talking about?”

“I’m the worst kind of person!”

“No!”

Shouto looked up, eyes brimming with tears. You took a few steps forward, taking his face into your hands.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered “it was an accident, and you didn’t mean it. Please don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Bakugou grabbed you, yanking you away from him

“Uh, what the fuck? You came here to sever ties with him, not fucking comfort him!”

“Look at him, Bakugou. He needs me.”

“Y/n-“

“Trust me.” You smiled at Bakugou, pushing him away from you slowly before turning back to Shouto. You took the boy into your arms, rocking back and forth with him.

You ignored the heavy feeling in your chest, and the screams your brain slew ar you to get off of him, get away from him, and let Bakugou protect you.

You ignored logic, emotion, and all better judgement.

For this boy who’d hit you.

But Bakugou would end up being right, he was smart.

You’ll see.

Katsuki Bakugou/ Dynamight

Shit wrong Pomeranian

That’s better

Katsuki stood outside Recovery Girl’s room, waiting for Kirishima to come out and tell him what was going on.

He was chewing on his nails, foot tapping against the ground as he stared at the door. He could hear people moving around and talking inside.

He couldn’t get the sound of your screaming out of his head, the large dark patch that formed on your skin around your face, the way you just... fell.

The door slid open, and Bakugou stared forward and Kirishima stepped out, smiling and thanking Recovery Girl.

Bakugou was on his feet in an instant, grabbing Kirishima’s arm.

“How are they? Do they hate me? Can I see them?” He rambled, Kirishima gently pushing Bakugou off him.

“Uh, they’re fine for the most part, they haven’t said anything about you at all, and ask Recovery Girl.” He said, backing off down the hall as Bakugou stared helplessly after him.

“You uh- you might want to apologize. They are really upset.” Kirishima told him, quickly running off down the hall. Bakugou faced towards the room, stepping inside.

A cyan curtain blocked him from seeing you, and he heard shuffling behind it. It slid open, Recovery Girl stepping out. She looked up and saw Bakugou.

She wacked his leg with her needle/cane, and he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“You have no shame!” she snapped. “With what you did to them, you should be cowering outside right now!”

“Shhh!” Bakugou pressed up against the wall. “Do you want them to know I’m here?”

“Are you that clueless?” she grumbled, pulling herself up into her chair. “They’ve gone temporarily deaf.” Bakugou froze, glancing back at the curtain.

He’d blown up your eardrums.

He felt Recovery Girl press something into his hands, and he glanced down.

It was a small whiteboard, with a pen and washcloth.

This was how he’d have to talk to you.

On a fucking whiteboard.

RG pulled the curtains aside, revealing you.

You were laying in the bed, half your face wrapped up in bandages, hands resting on your lap.

“Y/n...” he murmured. You remained still, staring out the window. Bakugou cleared his throat, and you still didn’t react.

“They can’t hear you, remember?” RG shook her head, waddling over to the other side of your bed, pointing at Bakugou. He watched your face slowly turn, before his eyes shot away from you, staring at the ground.

He heard you swallow, and you let out a soft whimper.

Were you scared of him?

Bakugou lifted the whiteboard, quickly scribbling some kanji on it

ごめんなさい (Translation: I am sorry)

You reached forward, taking the whiteboard from him and erasing his words, putting your own down instead.

分かってる。(Translation: I know)

Bakugou pursed his lips, fidgeting with his shirt before he watched you put more writing down

どうして？(Translation: Why?)

Bakugou reached out, taking the whiteboard back, quickly putting down his excuse explanation

私は弱いと感じました。じゃあ霧島を助けてくれたんだ。うらやましくなってきた (Translation: I felt weak. Then you helped Kirishima. I got Jealous)

お許しください (Translation: Please forgive me.)

He handed you the whiteboard back, tapping his foot against the ground. You passed it back to him, and he hurridly read your response.

私はそれについて考えます (Translation: I’ll think about it.)

He had a chance. His eyes finally lifted off the whiteboard, landing on you.

The visible part of your face looked exactly the same, although there was a large bandage on your ear. Your eye looked sad, fearful, and nervous. You had a shaky smile on your face, trying to make him feel better.

You were always thinking about him.

それは再び起こらないだろう (Translation: It won’t happen again)

You sighed, smile falling.

本気？(Translation: Are you sure?)

Bakugou felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Well of fucking course you didn’t trust him, look what he’d done to you!

おっしゃる通りです。. もうお前を放っておいてやるさようなら、y/n。(Translation: You are right. I will leave you alone now. Goodbye, y/n.)

He stood up, leaving the whiteboard on your bed. He headed towards the door, with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ignored the soft cry of your voice, surprised he was leaving.

He ignored the way you managed to choke out his name in a warbly, unsure voice.

He slid the door shut behind him, slumping against it and sliding down until he sat on the cold ground. He buried his face into his arms, finally allowing himself to cry.

He wasn’t going to try and talk to you, he resolved. He wasn’t going to bother you or scare you.

He’d keep you safe by refusing to talk to him.

He’d let the author end the fanfiction right then and there.

The door slid open behind him, and he flopped backwards, staring up at your face. You were holding the whiteboard.

オマンコにならないでください。事故だったのは分かってる頑張って俺を捕まえるのか諦めるのか? どんなヒーローがあきらめるだろうか？

(Translation: Don't be a pussy. I know it was an accident. Are you going to work hard and get me or give up? What kind of hero would just give up?)

A smirk slowly spread across his face. Yeah, he’d work hard. He’d never scare you or hurt you again. He’d do better.

He’d be the best boyfriend.

And he’d accept your help to stand up next to you.

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

After fic note: ohmygod I’m finally finished. This took fucking forever. You loved part one so much, I had to make sure part two was perfect.

Some of these ended in heartbreak

Another ended in a questionable descision

The last ended happily

All of them are different!

I hope you get my references, and appreciate the Japanese Kanji I put in Bakugou’s part (if any of it is inaccurate, please let me know so I can try my best to fix it. I don’t speak or write Japanese, I used this translator to get what I needed).

I worked hard on this, so if y’all could tell me what you like and dislike about this so I can improve my writing, that would be lovely. Don’t be afraid to pop a comment or pop into my ask box, I do my best to respond to every comment and ask, so don’t worry about being ignored.

I love all of you, and I’m so glad to be able to write for you.

Thanks for all of your support, I promise I’ll work hard on all of my drafts to make sure you get entertainment constantly!

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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Do I mind if I ask how you approach writing longer fic? I've always struggled to write anything more than maybe two chapters long and I'm curious if you have a particular method to how you approach such stories.

Thank you so much for this ask! I absolutely love it when people ask me for writing advice because it makes me feel like a Smart Person Who Knows Things.

Before we start, here is one grain of salt to take all of this with: I have a naturally long-form brain. It is very hard for me to write something less than 1k. Short fiction is great, and there is nothing wrong with sticking to short things if that's what your brain likes to do.

So. You have decided to write a story. This is going to focus on "stories". Some people write fic that's more freeform or whatever, I am not going to cover that. What I mean by a story is this:

It starts

Some stuff happens

It ends

It is highly probable that your story contains a change of state, which could be that a villain is defeated, or a goal is reached, but it could also be that character falls in love with another, or someone learns to like broccoli.

I like to start out by completing the sentence, "This is a story where _______". This is basically like coming up with a summary for an ao3 post, except that it doesn't need to be catchy. Lots of different kinds of things could go in that blank! It could literally be what happens: This is a story where Ichigo goes back in time and punches young Aizen in the nose. It could be about what you want to explore: This is a story where Hitsugaya gets a better understanding of his zanpakutou. It could be about the vibe you want to achieve: This is an AU where everyone is in a punk rock band and has cool hair and outfits. The idea of this is to clearly define what you, the author, is interested in writing. Make sure it feels right! Maybe you pick the first one, but when you say it out loud, you say, "You know, I really just want Ichigo to go back in time so he can horse around with young Renji and Rukia and punching Aizen in the nose is just an excuse for that." That may sound dumb, but it's fine, actually! Most people don't read stories strictly for the plot, they read stories for the implications of those plots! Will my favorite two characters kiss? Will there be funny interactions between these two groups of characters? Will there be sick fights? Stories are excuses to have scenes. Sometimes, you will have a story where the interesting sequence of events is the draw, but the point is to know what you're about.

Once you feel happy with your "mission statement", you need to decide the bounds of your story: where it starts and where it ends. It may be easier to start with the end. In some cases, it may be obvious from your mission statement: everyone gets home, a villain is defeated, Kenpachi realizes the meaning of friendship. On the other hand, let's look at that punk rock AU. You've picked a vibe, but you don't really have a natural story arc. It has to have a destination, though, otherwise, it's not really a story, it's a recipe for 3 chapters of an abandoned fanfic. So brainstorm a little: Maybe they get a record deal? Maybe they win a Battle of the Bands? Maybe Byakuya accepts that the band is actually good and tells Rukia he is proud of her. Do not settle for a plot just because it works. Pick something that makes you excited! You're the one who is gonna have to write it!

I said that we needed to pick a beginning point, too, but I'm actually going to skip that for now. The next thing I do is think of all the Big Scenes I want to write, the ones you are hype to write, the ones that pop in your head as you think about the premise. Make a bullet list. They don't need to be in order. The descriptions don't need to be super detailed, but write down anything about it that is important to you. If there's a mood or a snippet of dialogue or a joke you want to make, go ahead and jot that down so you don't forget it later. What you're doing now is putting broad blotches of color on a canvas, filling in space and leaving the detail for later.

Once you are pretty happy with what you have down, try to arrange it in chronological order. Put your end at the end (if it wasn't one of your big scenes, add it now). The next task is figuring out how to traverse your scenes. You've already picked out where you want to spend the majority of your energy. The rest, I regret to tell you, is your slog writing. Now, it often happens that you will find joy in some of these scenes and your best writing may occur there, but that's serendipity. These are the scenes that you are gonna have to make yourself sit down and write, so you honestly want to limit them to just the ones you need.

So how do we do this? Look at the first thing on the list. Can you start there? If so, congrats, that's your beginning. If you can't, what needs to happen to get to there? Where can you start so that you can get to your first fun scene as soon as possible? There. That’s it. You’ve picked your beginning, good job! Now, go through the rest of your list, and add in things that must happen, even if you don’t particularly look forward to writing them. The characters need to travel from geographic point A to point B. Shuuhei needs to say something that Izuru hears and misinterprets. The Central 46 makes a new law. If you have a good idea of how these things happen, go ahead and write them down, but it’s okay if you don’t know yet. Fill in all the blanks so that if you think of each bullet list as a scene, you could read it as a story, start to end. Once you get writing, you might add more scenes, or move things around or whatever, but you should have a thing that functions as a story.

If you struggle with this, an alternative is a story with a very strong structure that is going to guide you though what you have to write.Here are two examples from my own stories Hold On, Hold On (which is only one chapter, but the principle is the same) is structured around the 5 stages of grief. Not Broken, Just Bent takes place over roughly a week, and I just decided what happened every day of the week. See You on the Other Side takes place in the middle of a bunch of canon events, which worked at mile markers.

Congratulations. You’ve just made a rough outline!

Special note for avoiding burnout!: I am a slogger. I will drag myself through the broken glass of an interminable plot to get to a single thirsty scene. That's why, at this stage, I try to look at the ratio of what I want to write to what I must write. It's gonna vary for everyone, but this is a hobby, and if looking at this proto-outline makes you feel deeply tired, maybe this isn't a good story to be devoting your time to! Can you carve it down? Can you chuck two scenes you really want to write and get rid of 80% of the slog? Or maybe you can't! In that case, just write that thirsty scene as a standalone drabble! Or just go work on something else! Maybe in the future, this one will come back to you and you’ll have a fresh idea or a renewed enthusiasm for it.

Another thing I sometimes like to do at this point is to write out some notes about my characters and their motivations and moods. Character A is homesick. Character B is so determined to defeat the enemy that they are having a hard time being sympathetic to Character A. Character C cares for both A and B and is trying to support them both. This is sort of background info that you want to keep in your head as you are writing. Depending on the type of story you are writing, this might actually be the main plot, or it might be happening subtly, but adding to the emotional impact of the story. It’s very easy for me to write these sorts of emotional arcs, but if you struggle with that, you may wish to go ahead and made a more detailed outline for that, too.

Now, it’s time to start writing! I am great at beginnings-- it is very often the case for me that the opening scene was one of my Big Tentpole Scenes. (Before you hate me too much, I make up for this by being double horrible at endings; just let me have this) Usually, I will start at the beginning and write linearly for as long as I can until I get stuck. Then, I will look forward on my outline and do the next chronological scene that I feel like writing. In general, if I sit down to write and there is something I have an urge to write, that trumps everything else. Inspiration is a precious commodity, and you should embrace it when it hits! You can slog any day. I will occasionally hold off writing a scene that I really want to, because I am saving it, like a prize for myself for getting that far. This is a very personal process of figuring out what motivates your brain and then giving your brain what it needs to be its most productive.

Eventually, you will run out of things you are excited to write, but the good news is, you’ve got a bunch of story now! Odds are that what’s left is going to be a lot of those connective tissue scenes, and you’re just going to have to do them, except that now, because you’re connecting two concrete points instead of two abstract points, it will be a lot easier. You can continue running jokes you’ve started. Maybe you invented a cafe in an earlier scene where your characters hang out and you can have them return there. Try to think of ways to make these scenes more fun, both for yourself to write and for your reader to read.

Around this time, I like to start refining that rough strokes outline into what I will call an “as-built” outline. (This is an engineering term where you update your plans or models for something to reflect any changes that had to be made along the way). This is a great activity to do at times when you feel like you have writers block. I write down every scene I have written as a 2-3 word blurb, in order. I break the scenes into what I think makes logical chapters, and I will do a word count on those prospective chapters and write it down. As you do this, you will realize that maybe you can move a scene from here to there, which will make it 1000% easier to write. Things may be happening too much, or you’ve got the characters eating three times in the same chapter. If you have subplots and dangling threads, this is where you make sure they get closure. I know this sounds very headache-y, but you are so far along in the story at this point that it’s really not-- it’s a way to look at the problems you have left. Use some sort of formatting (I like to bold things I haven’t done and sometimes I put them in red) and it gives you a very visual to-do list.

You specifically mentioned multi-chapter fanfics and I admit that I don’t tend to think in chapters, I tend to think of the story as a whole and just break it up where it feels natural. The as-built outlining I described is very helpful in making sure that my chapters feel balanced. They don’t necessarily need to be the same length, but I like them to have the same amount of stuff in them. One chapter may basically contain one long scene, and other may contain many short ones. I don’t tend to, but you can certainly have a fanfic that varies between short and long chapters, that can actually be an interesting effect. But like I said, I always like to know what I am doing, and so having it mapped out, you can say “welp, this is what I’ve done, how do I feel about that?”

Polynya, you may be saying at this point, do you write the whole fanfic before you post any of it? and I regret to inform you, the answer is yes. A lot of people write as they go, and I have made one attempt at this and I didn’t like it. I don’t like locking myself in, I just need to be able write out of order and go back and change things. Here is the story of a little in love: someone gave me an AU prompt and I got mildly obsessed with it, and wrote 5 snapshots drabbles in that universe, ending with a slight cliffhanger ending. I probably should have stopped there, but I decided to keep going. I wrote out an outline of 5 acts where the first act was detailed to the degree of each chapter being specified. The chapters here were much smaller than I usually make chapters: 1-2k. I wrote act i and ii and it was actually great, and then I hit act iii which required a lot of set up for misunderstandings and a mini romance arc. I couldn’t wing it, but nor could I figure it all out with outlining. I write dialogue in almost sort of an improv “Yes, and...?” style, so until I do it, I don’t know what’s going to happen. So, what I did was treat the second half of act iii as a complete story in the process I describe above, wrote the entire rest of it, and then posted it. One might notice that the chapter lengths grew to 3-5k each. I have two more acts to go, and I haven’t decided how I am going to do them yet, but I suspect I will treat each of them as their own mini-stories.

(I will admit that in Heart is a Muscle, I tend toward chapters that are about 10k long, and this is honestly too long, someone should smack me. If you like punchy chapters, 1-2k is good. I think 3-6k is probably an ideal chapter length. Is this how long the chapters are in my latest fanfic? Absolutely not.)

Okay, so there’s one more step, which is quality control. I am habitual re-reader-- I read my fanfics-in-progress over and over and over while I am working on them. I understand that not everyone does this, but I am usually the primary audience for my own writing, and this is the actual fun part for me. Nevertheless, you should re-read your work at least once, to make sure it hangs together.

This is purely optional, but I recommend it: get a writing friend (if you don’t like re-reading your work, I recommend this even more strongly). If you can get a full-service beta reader, that’s great, but if you can’t find someone, or if receiving that level of critique stresses you out, it’s perfectly valid to just find a friend who will read your stuff and a) shower you with compliments, b) reassure you about parts you aren’t sure about (or suggest ways to help) and c) point out any huge problems you missed. When I am writing a long fanfic, it is a huge motivational factor for me to be able to send my beta chapters as I finish them. If you are already an established writer, and you have people who consistently comment on your fic, they might be overjoyed to get a sneak peak at your work.

And that’s it! That’s the way I do it, anyway! Some people are able to sit down and write a very detailed outline and the write it start-to-finish. Good for them, I say! I have tried this and it doesn’t work great for me. I will admit that some of my fics (especially my early ones) I just sat down and banged out whole-cloth like an insane person and they are generally better than the ones I actually plan out, but that’s not a reproducible process.

As one final mechanical note, I usually write in Google Docs, which I can access on multiple devices (I used to write a lot on my phone), has convenient sharing functionality, and I use the ao3 html formatting script add-in. I generally have two documents for a single story-- one is the outline, and any other notes I want to have handy. I’ll usually put a trashcan space at the bottom for scenes that got cut but I don’t want to lose. The other is the fanfic itself.

I hope this is helpful! Please feel free to follow up with other questions and good luck with your writing!

#writing advice #longform writing

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