but this has been sitting in an open tab for like an hour

fall

or…lena doesn’t stop believing in the one person who believed in her

(or…the terrible thing i wrote to get rid of writer’s block and it’s long and sad but has a happy ending)

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

Sometimes, when she’s alone in her office in the wee hours of the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing and unsure when she’d last eaten, she thinks about that, the utter normalcy of losing National City’s hero on a Wednesday. Somehow, the death on such a boring day of the week provides a sort of stark contrast that Lena has trouble wrapping her head around. After all, surely the hero and pride of National City would fall in a blaze of glory on a Friday night, a Sunday afternoon, even a Monday morning during rush hour.

But a Wednesday? Some time between mid-morning and noon? When nothing was happening except for the drudge of the week, the tireless churning of society?

She doesn’t understand it—has tried to come to terms with it with very little success. In her weakest moments, when she’s staring down the end of a bottle of whiskey or wine (before Jess or Maggie or even James Olsen pry the bottle from her fingertips and help her get home), she thinks the very banality of Supergirl’s death is evidence of its unnecessary nature, its needless, pointless, meaningless, asinine

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

By Friday, the President herself comes to National City to mourn the fallen hero. She talks about the few short conversations she’s had with Supergirl, how everyone should be inspired and follow Supergirl’s wonderful example. A true hero, an exemplary citizen.

(Lena doesn’t go to the ceremony. She and Alex spend that afternoon in Kara’s apartment, sitting on Kara’s couch, Alex stoically staring at the television screen with silent tears running down her cheeks and Lena gripping her hand so tightly she thinks she’ll break fingers.  

After that, Lena doesn’t see much of Alex at all.)

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Regarding Dean

Characters:  Dean, Reader, Sam

Summary:  Sam calls reader to babysit Dean after he’s cursed by a witch.

Warnings:  Angst-ish

Word Count:  1776

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Regarding Dean

The screen lights up on your phone, Sam Winchester’s name flashing on the screen.This can’t be good, otherwise Sam would never, ever call you. Not after everything that happened. Should you answer? You don’t really want to dredge all that shit up. But if he’s calling, it’s important. You’re thumb hovers over the green button. It’s on the third ring before you decide to answer.  

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)? It’s me, Sam. Please, don’t hang up, just hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“Thank…thank you. Listen, I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t need help, you know that I wouldn’t. But I need you.”

———–

You can’t figure out how Sam knows you’re in the area. You haven’t had contact with Dean or Sam for over year. Is he still keeping tabs on you through the hunter network?  It’s touching in a way, you’ve always had a soft spot for Sammy. Truth is, you miss him.

Why the fuck are you driving to the motel right now? Why would you willingly put yourself in this position? Must be temporary insanity. It’s the only logical explanation. Maybe you should drive straight to the psych ward and check yourself in after this is over.

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The Brown Bottle

Pairings: Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader - A/B/O

Word Count: 3400+

Summary: Sam is rough around the edges, you do your best to avoid until one night you discover he’s your true mate and instincts take over. This is really just a lot of smut and a little plot to ease things along. 

My twist on a/b/o dynamics.

Beta:  @just-another-busy-fangirl

Warnings: NSFW gif, knotting, mating, breeding, dominance, claiming, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, dirty talk, rough sex, some dom/sub overtones.

Your name: submit What is this?





You stop in your tracks, clutching an open hand over your abdomen.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath as an afterthought. Shit doesn’t quite do this kind of pain justice. This cycle’s heat has brought what your mother, Millie (owner and proprietor of The Brown Bottle), refers to as The Real Motherfuckers. The kind of cramps that stop a woman unexpectedly while on her way to work well after sundown. The two generic suppressants you popped an hour earlier aren’t working as well as you hoped and you find yourself wishing you’d taken a third.

These are indeed The Real Motherfuckers.

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Daddy Devil  { Submission }

<– [Prologue] | [Dominance] | 

A/N: Lmaoooo the title is misleading xD but! In the context of the first part of this story, it makes sense lol. So there!

Anyway, here’s the second part of Daddy Devil! There was a lot of positive feedback on the first part, so I figured I’d give writing a second part a shot. Hopefully you all like it!

Consider it a belated Valentine’s Day present~ ;p

Words: 7,414

Genre: Smut/Demon!AU


Namjoon finds himself standing at the bottom of the regal staircase, face blank and cock grown hard between his legs. The clock on the walls ticks just past 3AM, and the entire house is silent—Hell, for once, seems to have quieted down.

But the thoughts in Namjoon’s brain are loud. The images from his dream continue to play in his head, and he scowls, fingers curling into fists.

Taut, rosy nipples—skin decorated with bruises and hickies. Thighs quivering, lips and chin slick with drool, ass red—but that smirk. That cocky little smirk that only belongs to one girl he’s had the pleasure of attempting to ruin, and that damn smirk belongs to you. A smart little girl in Jungkook’s territory, daring enough to deem him “daddy” and even more bold as to play games in his presence despite the fact that you had been at his complete mercy.

The way you’d reacted and bantered with him had been branded into his mind, and you’d been terrorizing him even though your physical presence in his life was lacking.

And tonight is not the first night you had entered his dreams and made him like this—cock stiff and weeping, his heart thrumming with the need to dominate and make you submit.

Yet…his dependence somewhat scares him, because he doesn’t need you, so instead he turns his frustration elsewhere—stepping forward and throwing open the double doors leading into the Play Room.

Girls are thrown over the couches and chairs, eyes groggily popping open at the sound of someone entering. They’re wearing nothing but collars or piercings, typically not needing clothes when their services are needed by many of Namjoon’s men throughout the day.

Eyes widening, the girls can hardly believe their eyes when they spot that its Namjoon who has interrupted their sleep, and any rude thoughts that had come to mind fly away. They all scramble to their feet, watching as Namjoon looks them over, their mouths already slack as their gaze drops to the tent in his pants.

“Don’t make me ask,” he simply states, voice gruff from sleep, and undresses himself before sitting down in an arm chair. Obedient as always, the girls immediately surround him, hands roaming his tanned skin and their mouths parting to release quiet moans.

Namjoon closes his eyes as they work, eyebrows furrowed as lips caress his neck and chest, a small hand boldly wrapping around his cock. They tug skillfully, a mouth descending to enclose around the head of his length. The wet warmth comforts him, coaxing his orgasm towards the surface, but even so he still feels unsatisfied.

These girls have no voice—no effect on him. They don’t make him cocky—don’t give him a challenge. They’re here to please and nothing more, there’s no feeling behind their actions, no reaction behind what they feel.

When he opens his eyes he sees a girl knelt before him, mouth engulfing his cock, her eyes locked on his, waiting to receive his approval. But that’s all she cares about, making sure the Devil is happy with her work, and that doesn’t get Namjoon off.

It used to, in the drunk hours of the night, but not now.

Now he only sees the girls face and wishes that she could be you—trying your best to please him earnestly, searching for a reward yet also getting off despite the pain. A spicy, yet innocent demon—one that he wants to get his hands on once again.

“Fuck,” he growls, reaching down and shoving the girl off of him.

“Sir?” she asks in surprise, nervousness overtaking her tone. Standing up, Namjoon quickly steps into his pants, cock still hard against his leg, and looks back at the girls. His eyes are dark.

“You all did fine, go back to sleep.”

With that he exits the room and storms up the stairs. When he reaches his private quarters, Namjoon slams the door shut behind him, feet gluing to the floor a few steps inside the room. His eyes lock on the spot where he’d first saw you—hands bound above your head, body bare and utterly perfect.

Hand sneaking beneath the band of his pants, his palm strokes his cock, breath turning shaky as he recalls his memory of that day. Your ass, your lips—the way your pussy had felt around his cock. The way you’d obeyed him yet had made sure to retain your independence with wit, and the thought of your snarky words alone has a growl building in his throat, wrists twisting and his eyes fluttering shut.

He recalls your slicked thighs and quivering muscles as he’d touched you, and his teeth grind, dick aching under his touch. The temptation of your wet, warm walls enclosing him and taking him so wonderfully is what sends him over the edge, a gravelly curse sneaking past his lips as he cums in his own palm, the white substance accidentally painting the inside of his pants as well.

Eyes reopening, Namjoon stares down at himself, eyes burning maroon as confused anger passes through his skull. He doesn’t remember the last time he got off like this—like a blushing virgin boy, jacking off to fantasies in his head. He’s always had people to service him—to do his bidding, to take care of his needs. And the girls eat him up, truly. A chance to pleasure the Devil—what lower level, horny demon would pass the opportunity up?

But now they’re not enough for him, and it’s frustrating to realize that he wants you. God, you of all people—a random demon he hadn’t even known about until two weeks ago. But…fuck, something about you has him yearning for more…

“Fuck,” he growls, running his unsoiled hand through his hair. Namjoon walks forward and steps out of his pants, discarding his shirt on the bathroom floor as he strides into the white-tiled room, hand reaching out to start the shower.

He wants you but he’s not sure if you want to see him again. After all, he’d taken you under his mercy, even if you had enjoyed it (at least judging by the way your body had reacted).

But why should he care about the way you feel? He’s the Devil, he can have what he wants.

So, attempting to push his worries aside, writing it off as an emotion he shouldn’t need to bother with (even though the question of: do you want him like he wants you? remains), Namjoon steps into the steaming shower and decides that the next time you come to his mind he won’t hold back. He’ll come and find you.


Darkness descends upon Hell, the artificial sun fading away. The sky changes shade as the ball in the sky fades from yellow to dimmed white, craters appearing on its surface—a little feature added to mimic the look of Earth’s moon.

Namjoon has always been interested in Earthlings and the way that their world functions, Jungkook muses, nursing the glass of juice the bar tender had passed him. Well—half juice, the other half is vodka, but he hates to drink it straight. He typically despises being teased by his hyungs as the youngest, yet in this instance he’ll resign to his younger age. Sweet drinks are still his favorite.

Taking a swig of the concoction, Jungkook’s eyes shift sideways, head turning as he survey’s the laden bar. Most of the patrons he knows briefly on a name or face basis. It’s his job as the 3rd level guardian to know those he needs to keep tabs on.

However, mixed into the crowd are unfamiliar faces as well—people who are likely from Hoseok or Jimin’s level. It’s rare that anyone from Jin’s or Taehyung’s levels ever comes up for a visit, and typically the high class demons of Namjoon’s domain stay mingled amongst their own rank. And, of course, people from Yoongi’s dusty basement don’t get out much either, or…ever, really.

Sighing, Jungkook turns on his stool and takes another mouthful of his drink. Slyly, his eyes glance to the corner of the room where you and your friends are sitting, chatting away about one thing or another.

A couple days after Namjoon had deposited you back home, you had bumped into Jungkook, slapping your hand against his chest angrily at the way he had treated you before. Jungkook had laughed, taking your hand into his own and bringing it to his lips, apologizing for his actions. “It was too much fun,” he’d said, which had earned him another smack, and then…an invitation for lunch. To talk.

You had wanted to know about Namjoon—what he would do next, if he would come for you again. Jungkook hadn’t been able to supply you with much of an answer. He had no idea how Namjoon would act from here on. To his knowledge, nothing like this had ever happened before. Sure, Namjoon had found plenty of girls over the ages to take into his bed for one night only, but…this was different. That’s what Jungkook sensed from the situation. And his suspicions had only been confirmed when you had—

Oh, and do you know what this is??” you had asked him, looking around with slightly flushed cheeks before you’d lifted up your shirt, revealing the small, shattered black circle on your ribs.

In speed unmatched Jungkook had immediately reached over, tugging your shirt back in place, his face so close to yours that you had seen the shock in his eyes.

“That’s the Devil’s mark,” he had said, sounding baffled, his voice quiet as he had fallen back into his seat. “I mean…it’s the guardians mark—we each have one—

Pushing a bit of energy into his palm, Jungkook made his own circular black mark appear.

“What…is it?” you had asked, and Jungkook had bit his lips, brows furrowing.

“It basically…is claim? Well–,” he quickly made to amend his phrasing. “The guardians use these circles as a way to keep track of the people we especially…want to keep an eye on. The mark allows us to sense any extreme emotions—pain, sadness, happiness…ecstasy…

Your eyes had widened, arms crossing over your chest, and Jungkook had stared back at you, unsure what to say.

“So it’s basically a leash.”

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Tired of hiding

This one is for the lovely anon who sent me the prompt. I really really hope it lives up to your idea and how you imagined it. *crosses fingers* *worries*

(Note to everyone else reading this - the idea and most of the storyline isn’t mine)

Summary: Baz starts going to an LGBT+ club at Watford, Simon finds out and it changes the way he sees Baz

Warning: homophobia (well… kind of. It may all just be a big misunderstanding)

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L$D

Jughead X Reader

Wordcount: 1,888 

Request:  Bit of a different request, but could you do something where Jughead is helping the reader recover from past substance abuse and addiction?

Warnings: Mentions on substance abuse, swearing, angst 

A/N: This issue is very personal to home with me, that’s why I’m writing it. Last year I lost a friend due to substance abuse, and many of my friends take drugs recreationally and have become addicted, so I’ve dealt with addiction first-handedly. I’ve seen the way this has affected them and it’s not a pretty sight. There is plenty of support out there if anyone ever needs to speak to someone about substance abuse. My inbox is always open if anyone wants a chat…Even if it isn’t about substance abuse. 

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Wrapped Around

Jimin x Reader // college!AU // 9694 words

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Originally posted by bwipsul

Genre: Fluff, warning: groping(?)

TA refers to teaching assistant

Part 2 | Part 2.5 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now sigh and I feel bad for not putting out anything this winter break! This is a somewhat exaggerated version of what is a combination of my friends’ freshman year haha. Man I love college.


College had been a lot harder than you expected and you struggled, barely able to crawl past the finish line that was the end of freshman year. As sophomore year came around, new year, new me, you had declared. You were on a mission to bring your GPA back up. No more spending your nights at some random house, celebrating a birthday of a person whom you did not know but rather more nights spent hunched over your computer in some well-lit corner in the library.

Even though you felt invigorated to start the new semester, all that disappeared by the time Wednesday came around. You’re not sure why they call the first week, syllabus week when you had homework and quizzes assigned to you already. By the time it was Thursday, you could only thank god that you were so close to the weekend.

Sat in your final class for the day, your physics discussion section, you could only dream of the long shower you were going to take once you got back to your dorm. The bell rings, and the TA gets up to begin writing on the board but the distant noises of a person running down the hallway makes it difficult for you to concentrate. Within seconds, a rather sweaty boy reaches the doorway, panting as he bows apologetically at the TA before taking a seat right next to you. The TA waves at him dismissively as he continues to drone on about the material you learnt in class this week.

“Alright, now you can work in pairs or groups to solve the worksheet. In 15 minutes, we’ll come back to solve questions 1-3,” your TA declares.

You turn to your right to see that the person next to you had already formed a group with a few other students and you were too shy to ask if you could join. You turn to your left to find the sweaty boy silently working on the problem set. Letting out a light sigh, you begin attempting to solve the worksheet on your own.

There’s a long overdue silence before the boy seated next to you turns eagerly towards you and introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Jimin and you are?”

“Y/N,” You smile politely before turning to your worksheet.

He glances over at your worksheet and scoffs. “That’s wrong,”

“What?”

“That’s wrong,” He points. “You have to use the first equation that’s written down on the board.”

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That Misleading Sex Scene (Sebastian Stan X Reader)

Title: That Misleading Sex Scene  [ REQUESTED by @melconnor2007 ]

Pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight angst 

MASTERLIST

Hey sweetie, here’s the completed request and I hope it is up to standard. I tweeked it slightly because I thought It’d be weird for reader not to know how filming works if they’ve been together for some time. Enjoy! 

Sebastian and (Y/N) met on a cold winter morning in the small cafe round the corner of his apartment.

(Y/N) was on her way to work that morning and was going to grab herself a cup of tea to start the day and Sebastian was back in New York after a long three months of filming away in Los Angles. He was on his way back home from his session at the gym when he stopped to get himself breakfast at the cafe.

The poor man forgot his wallet at the gym locker and was left stranded at the cafe, his bagel and cup of joe in hand, but no money what so ever to pay for them.

(Y/N) was behind him in line and noticed the worry lines forming on his forehead and the awkward smile the server had on her face. She realized the man in front of her seemed to have forgotten his wallet and just as he was about to call someone to come help him pay when she stepped forward and placed a couple of bills on the counter and ordered her tea with a smile.

“I’ll take an English Breakfast and please put his order on my tab.” (Y/N) offered, giving Sebastian a nod and a smile.

His face immediately loosened up and a relieved smile hung on his lips.

“Thank you so much. I forgot my wallet back in the gym and I was just about to get someone to help me bring it over.” Sebastian said, his smile still not fading as he took in (Y/N) dressed in a simple white dress shirt, tucked into a mid-length pencil skirt, a pair of deep burgundy heels on her feet, her hands filled with documents.

Sebastian didn’t get to pay (Y/N) back for his breakfast that day. She brushed him off when he offered to leave her his number, much to his amusement. But that didn’t stop the actor from sitting at the table right by the cafe’s door every morning from that day on.


(Y/N) was having a lazy Sunday lounging in her apartment. She and Sebastian’s relationship has been going strong for six months and the actor was away on a movie filming schedule out of town. It was the first time Sebastian was to be away for more than a week for filming since they got together.

The couple made it a point to stay in contact via FaceTime and texts whenever their busy schedules allowed.

Sebastian was (Y/N)’s second boyfriend since her first back in college and she was overwhelmed by everything and even more so considering Sebastian’s job as an actor.

She didn’t know much about the film industry, having no friends or acquaintance working in Film other than Sebastian. She did know, however, that Sebastian was filming in a movie where he plays a gymnast.

Grabbing the iPad off the coffee table, she clicked on the app for news and habitually go to the entertainment segment, a habit she acquired once she started dating an actor.

She let the page load and shuffled to the cookie jar only to be disappointed by the lack of sweet treats, knowing that Sebastian probably snuck a few during his cheat day.

Her focus was pulled away by the iPad as she saw her boyfriend in one of the banners on screen. Her boyfriend, Sebastian Stan, was buck naked behind an equally naked blonde female, in an extremely compromising position.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, hands reaching for the device. Clicking on the article, (Y/N) desperately attempted to keep her tears at bay and read through.

Sebastian was apparently filming a sex scene with his female co-star for his next movie, The Bronze. Her boyfriend, Sebastian Stan, was filming a sex scene in LA, and (Y/N) had no idea it was happening.

Her hand loosened its grasp on the tablet and it slipped through, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Just then, the familiar alert tone on FaceTime rang through her now silent apartment.

(Y/N) took one look at the caller and switched the device off and trudged back into her bedroom, wanting some time alone to clear her thoughts.

Why would Sebastian film a sex scene?

He’s an actor, but a sex scene?

Couldn’t they have gotten someone else that looked like him from the back to do it?

Why would he have sex with someone and not think to tell her?

Was it because they hadn’t taken that step in the relationship?

Was it her fault?

Thoughts flew past her mind, the worst it got as time passed. She couldn’t fathom the reason her loving boyfriend would go off and have sex with someone for a film and not think to ask if (Y/N) was comfortable with it.


Sebastian was well into the 50th call and 70th text message and all platforms (Y/N) was contactable on. If he was worried when the first call when to voicemail after a few rings, he was downright out of his mind as he hung up the 51st call that sent him straight to the machine.

He was pacing around set, hands clutching onto his phone, the worried frown on his face evident to the crew members.

“Hey, I really got to go home. Right now. I’ll make sure to be back by the time my next scene starts filming tomorrow at dawn. I promise. I just really need to go back now.” Sebastian said, his words coming out hasty, face etched with worry.

Seeing him so explicitly worried, her co-star and director, Melissa, gave him the go-ahead to head back home even offering to book him his ticket.


It was a grueling 5 and a half hour flight, and Sebastian slept not a wink. Once he got off the plane, he was back on his mission to call you.

As the call went to voicemail once again, he let out a frustrated growl, swiftly making his way to hail a cab to your apartment.

You were curled up in the think blanket that still vaguely smelled like your boyfriend. Your eyes swollen, nosed red and stuffed up from the hours of crying and self-doubt.

The harsh opening of your room’s door shocked you as you turn to look at the intruder.

Your puffy eyes met with Sebastian gray ones, his eyes swimming with worry. He took only two quick steps and reached you. He gathered you close towards his broad chest, your form still wrapped in the thick duvet.

“I was so worried (Y/N). You scared me half to death,” he whispered into your neck, face buried in the comfort of your scent.

You pulled yourself from him lightly and looked down on your lap as you wrung the end of your sweater.

“Why are you back Seb? You should still be… be filming.” you replied, sounding resigned and tired.

Sebastian took one look at you and registered something was more than amiss. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and kneeled by the bed, pulling your face towards him own, your foreheads touching.

“Whats wrong baby? You gotta talk to me,” he asked with a soft voice, eyes desperate for some sort of answer.

“I… just… am I enough for you?” (Y/N) questioned back, voice not louder than a whisper.

The question caught the man off guard, his eyebrows shot up, frown lines evident.

“Of course you’re enough. You’re more than enough!” came his reply, his thumbs rubbing her now wet cheeks.

Her sobbing broke his heart and he was desperate to find out what made his sweet girlfriend so distraught.

“I… Then why… why would you… why would you have… have sex with… with someone else?” (Y/N)’s reply came out choppy between sobs.

Sebastian had an array of emotions passing through his face, from worry to confusion and finally to realization.

“Oh sweetheart, it was just a scene, my love. We didn’t do anything, God forbid!” Sebastian explained, gathering the weeping girl into his arms as he positioned himself on the bed, his back resting on the headboard, his girlfriend completely snuggled in his warmth.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mention it before. It has been years since I last dated someone and my girlfriends before were all in the industry and it just completely slipped my mind that you may not understand how this works. Oh, baby, I am so sorry.” Sebastian tried to explain to (Y/N), pulling the girl closer to him,

“Everything was acting, we didn’t do anything that we shouldn’t have, I promise. I could even get you the uncut tape so you could check for yourself! Please don’t cry anymore.” he pleaded.

Hearing his explanation, you burst into even louder sobs. The guilt you felt was extreme. You couldn’t believe that you thought so lightly of your boyfriend and that you caused him so much worry he left filming just to come back to pacify you.

Your apologies came out choppy and sob-filled and you heaved out your sorry’s to Sebastian.

The man effortlessly lifted you off him and settled you next to him, still close.

“I’m sorry too, baby. I’m still new to our dating thing. And I may forget to tell you some things, I may even say the wrong things and make you upset. But please remember, I will always love you, no matter what you may think. Let’s work on this together alright?” Sebastian murmured, as he rested his forehead on hers.

(Y/N) gave him a nod of acknowledgment, teary eyes full of apologies.

“And you will be coming back with me to LA for filming alright, sweetheart? I’ll show you everything about my job! It’ll be fun I promise.” Sebastian offered as he placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

Tagging: @itsanerdlife @buckysmusculararm @klaus-is-king @callamint @dryerpet @katbird787 @musichowler @captainfbffangirl99 @thatawkwardtinyperson @cassandras-musings @cleverwatson125 @universal-glitch @draconicuchiha @frickin-bats @smile-sugar @ryverpenrad @buckyywiththegoodhair @buckyappreciationsociety @17marvelousfreak @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @winchesterandpie @northscorpio @winter-is-ending @feelmyroarrrr  @marvelouslyloki

This is a requested piece. I have never written for Sebastian Stan before so I wouldn’t know if I’m any good. But I hope this was okay. As per usual, let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged!

For my other writings, search “Ting writes” on my Tumblr!”

Miscommunication

(gif credit to the creator)

Prompt: “You can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that it’s him.”
Pairing: Jared x Reader
Word Count: 1,259
Warnings: language, drinking
A/N: We all know it’s been impossible for me to write anything other than Misha lately so I forced myself to break out of that and this was born. I figure I need some more Jared/Sam on my master list and I’m trying to rectify that. Hope you guys like it! Anyway, feedback for this is awesome! :)

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Shut up and kiss me - Auston Matthews

A/N: HIIII! This one is a request by my bb @itsall-aboutthat. I’ve enjoyed writing this waaaay too much and I hope you like it. I might start taking requests, who knows…

Word Count: 1130

Warnings: Mild swearing.

Originally posted by calgaryinferno

“What do you want to do today?” Auston asks from behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist on a tight embrace.

“I’ve never been in Toronto before, we should go and explore the city” I answer while pouring more pancake batter on the pan. I’ve probably made a hundred pancakes by now, but the pile wasn’t growing since Auston kept stealing them from the plate and eating them with his fingers.

We have been dating for two years now, but you won’t deny that living so far from each other makes things quite hard sometimes. You trust him and he trusts you, but it is hard not to get jealous when models threw themselves at him all the time and you are an average girl from Michigan. It is the first time that I have gone to Toronto to visit him and I am beyond excited about it.

“Do you really want to go out?” He pouts and I can tell that all he wants is to stay at home and just cuddle and watch movies and be couch potatoes. Not happening “it is cold out and it might rain and…”

“Stop whining, Papi” I scowl him and he frowns; only his mom can call him Papi. “I really want to see the city. Your apartment is nice, but I want to see what Canada has to offer”

He rolls his eyes and I know I have won; we are going out. We get ready, Auston still whining while we walk to his car.

“We can go back, it isn’t too late” he says before getting in the driver’s seat.

“Auston, drive and don’t stop until we are Downtown” I glare at him and he stares at my face, trying to figure out if I’m kidding or not. I am not. He sighs and starts driving.

As soon as we are on the highway he links his hand with mine and rests them on my thigh, eyes on the road. I take my time to study his face while he is focus on the icy road; he is still the same Auston, but I can tell he is more of a man than he was six months ago when he left to Toronto. His jaw is slightly more squared, his hair is longer but better styled, his cheekbones more prominent… and yet again he is still Auston.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” he asks, squishing my hand lightly and I blush. Ugh, busted.

“You are just too handsome” I answer sincerely and he turns his face, gifting me with a smile that makes my knees weak.

“I needed to keep up with my girlfriend or some bastard may try to take her away from me” and I frown.

“Never going to happen”

“I hope so” he looks at my eyes for a second and brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Ugh, he knows how to make me go insane “we are here”

He parks the car on a private parking lot and we walk out, hand on hand. Toronto is prettier than I expected. It has a New York vibe but much more chilled and I enjoy walking around surrounded by tall buildings.

“Ugh, I think I’m in love” I declare as we sit in a restaurant after walking and shopping for a couple hours. What can I say? I couldn’t hold myself and Auston was there to hold my bags for once.

“I thought you had fell for me long time ago” he raises an eyebrow and I laugh at him.

“With the city, dum-dum” and now he gives me a major side eye “I’ve been in love with you for two years” as I run a finger all over his hand and arm.

“Good to know” he smiles and I do the same. Ugh, we are so cheesy.

We get our food and we eat as we talk, or I talk and he listens, or more like I talk and he is completely zoned out. He has always been on the quiet side of the spectrum, but normally he is a good listener. I frown, but he doesn’t notice it and I decide to just let it go. He pays the tab and I whisper a thank you. Everything was going so well and now we are on an uncomfortable silence, walking around the city.

“Want to go up there?” he asks and I snap out of my thoughts, following his gaze to the CN tower.

I nod, but I don’t say anything as we walk to base of the needle looking building and get inside. It is warm and I let out a content sigh when the warmth hits my face. Auston buys a couple tickets and I give him a dirty look, it is my time to pay, but he just waves it off and puts his hand on the small of my back and pushes me to the elevators. The ride up is suffocating, neither of us talks and the tension between us is palpable, you literally run off as the elevator doors open. And then you see it, the whole city at your feet. The sight is breathtaking and you can’t help it to turn around, looking for Auston so you can share the experience, but he is on front of the elevator, looking at his feet.

“Ok, I’m done with this” You whisper and walk towards him “what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you acting up so weird? What the fuck happ…”

“Move here with me” he blurts out and I stop talking.

“What?”

“Move here with me. Come live with me. You love the city, you like my friends, you love me…”

“Yes” I say, biting my lower lip.

“You can find a job, or not, I make enough money for bo…Wait, what?”

“I said yes, Auston. I’d love to live with you. I’d love to wake to you each morning. I’d love to make you pancakes every morning” I smile as he wraps his arms around my waist and spins me around.

When he puts me down I grab his hand and walk with him to the glass. The Sun is going down and the sky is tinted with reds, pinks and oranges.

“This is so beautiful” I whisper, leaning against him.

“Not as beautiful as you” he puts his arm around my shoulders and squishes my frame against his much bigger body “hey, I’m so sorry. I was an asshole and…”

“Shh, shut up and kiss me”

And he does, and my knees go weak, and my heart flutters, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to get to call him mine.

Requested by Anon: Sherlock x reader where she is pregnant with his baby & he loves her so dearly but one day she is seriously seriously injured in a case and it’s kind of sherlock’s fault indirectly and she loses the child tragically. Sherlock is v guilty and protective and sorry

(gif not mine but writing is)

Expecting

Walking into the living room you span around in your cream coloured dress and you felt beautiful. “Come here you.” said Sherlock as he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him to sit on his lap. He began to kiss you as he placed a hand on your tummy. Your bump wasn’t showing yet but you had a first scan. There was a healthy baby that you hope would be as intelligent as its father. You gazed into Sherlock light eyes as you brushed his dark curls from his face. “What did I do to deserve something as perfect as you two.” he sighed with happiness.
“Saved thousands if not millions of lives by being a smart arse?” you answer playfully as you leave a light kiss on his nose. He smirked.

“Mycroft keeps texting me asking how I am. I think he is excited about becoming an uncle.” you giggle as you look around. Your eyes stare at the vacant bedroom. “I was thinking of perhaps making John’s old room into a nursery but only if you’re OK with the idea. He’s really settling into his new place with Mary.” you say stepping off of his lap. Sherlock stared down the hallway at the now empty room, a grunt of contemplation left his lips. You understood that there was a lot of memories tied to the rooms in 221B Baker Street but at some point he will have to make changes so new memories can be made. One thing must be paramount, you must not rush him with his decisions.

Grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen you turn back to see Sherlock on his laptop. Walking up behind him you gaze over his shoulder at the computer screen. On the screen was a photograph of a man that was the latest big criminal that needed to be stopped. He had red curly hair and wore a long dark coat. It all started when he replicated some of Sherlock’s early cases. It’s like he wants to copy and get Sherlock’s attention for some reason. Kind of like a fan boy gone wrong. “I wonder what he is going to do next. The dedication and details that he puts into his crimes really are fascinating.” Sherlock said as his eyes sparkled with curiosity. Worriedly you put a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder as you spoke. “You’re leading him on too much Sherlock. Surely you can see that each murder is getting more elaborate with more victims.”
“I know. He’s just so interesting.” he sighs.
“The guy is a maniac.” you interject. “Besides how many days has it been since the last murder?” The criminal now had a clear murder pattern.
“Five. Today could be my lucky day.” replied Sherlock. Sometimes you worried about Sherlock. Murder and detective work can seem like a game to him. It’s like he forgets that people’s lives are at stake.
“Please Sherlock. You know who he is just arrest him. Don’t toy with him or let him toy with you any longer.” you say with concern but your warning appeared to go on deaf ears.

Sherlock opened a new tab on his laptop and began frantically refreshing his ‘Science of Deduction’ website because that is how he has communicated with the suspect previously. “I’m just going to pop out to the shop, maybe buy something for lunch. The doctor says that exercise is good for the baby.” you sigh walking past Sherlock. He suddenly turned around and grabbed your hand. He placed it against his lips, kissing it whilst his eyes stared into yours. “Don’t be too long… This will be the last time I tease him. I promise.” he said apologetically.
“I’ll be back soon you psychopath.” you giggled at him as you began to walk down the stairs.
“High functioning sociopath.” Sherlock called back.

Sherlock had unknowingly been waiting for at least an hour. A 'ding’ noise came from his laptop notifying him of a new message on his site which read. 'Why don’t we finally meet? I have been waiting for so long to meet you. Shall we say the old factory?“ Finally what Sherlock had been waiting for. As he went to grab his black jacket something struck him. It had been too easy. Before the criminal had laid out puzzles for him to solve but this time he arranges to meet face to face? Confused, he reaches for his mobile and dialled a familiar face, one of the few he could truly trust. "John? I know that you are probably busy but I need your assistance. It’s the copycat killer. He’s suggested a meet up but I don’t think that all is as it seems.”

“I’ll be a while Mrs Hudson” Sherlock called as he hailed a cab. The taxi picked up John on the way. The pair discussed how John should remain hidden somewhere in the factory but be ready to strike if things get out of hand.

The factory was disheveled. The walls thick with dust and most of the windows were shattered or boarded up. As John looked for another entrance, Sherlock quietly walked in. He vaguely recalled that this factory was significant in one of his very first cases. Was it a body found here or a major clue that helped solve the case? Sherlock walks into a big room surrounded by small offices.

“I thought you would be coming so I brought you a gift or was it that you brought me a gift?” said a gravelly voice in the distance. Out stepped a red haired man wearing a purple shirt, black jacket, trousers and shoes. Exactly the same outfit as Sherlock had on. Sherlock’s eyes widened as he could hear somebody quietly crying from the stranger’s direction.

The man was clutching onto your arm, dragging you close to him. “Sherlock” you whimpered. Tears ran down your face and you trembled with fear. “Isn’t she beautiful.” said the criminal as he gently stroked your cheek. You could see Sherlocks fists clench in anger. Using the hand on your cheek he slowly moved your head to face him. Suddenly he slapped you across the face and Sherlock darted forward. “Ah Mr Holmes, you’ve now shown me your hand. Wouldn’t want to do anything reckless now would we?” said the criminal and Sherlock froze.

“Just let her go. You have me now. I’m the one you want.” said Sherlock who kept a steady sounding voice, though it was taking a lot of effort.
“True” said the criminal as his eyes looked away from Sherlock and back to you. “To show there’s no hard feelings, how about a hug beautiful?” He holds an arm out and wraps it behind you. One arm remained down by his side as the other pulled you forward, crushing your body into his. You let out a blood curdling scream as a huge sharp pain cuts into you. Smirking, he slowly removes a large knife from your stomach.

“No!” Sherlock shouts with more anger and anguish than you ever knew he had. As the criminal was distracted, John crept up behind him and tackled him to the ground. Witnessing what had just taken place, the doctor did not hold back with the punches. After knocking the criminal out he phoned the emergency services.

Your legs became weak and Sherlock leapt forward to catch you before your body hit the floor. Looking down you could see your dress being stained by a growing patch of red. “Keep your eyes fixed on me.” Sherlock said as he took your hand in his. Tears rolled down his face.

“Sherlock… No matter what happens know this… I love you… You… Idiot.” you whispered shakily. John was applying pressure to the wound and you cried out in pain. “John you’re hurting her!” Sherlock shouted angrily. He knew that John knew what he was doing. He knew that John was a doctor. But seeing you in pain like this was too much for Sherlock to bare.

“Sherlock… He’s trying to help.” you whispered. Your eyes closing as you felt very sleepy. “(Y/N) stay with me. Please stay with me. You have to stay with me.” Sherlock begged as he squeezed your hand, forcing your eyes open. Despite this you could not fight it any longer. Your eyes closed. The last sound you heard was Sherlock crying in despair.

Your eyes slowly open. You were laying in a white hospital bed. Looking down you see Sherlock clutching your hand in his own, his head on the bed. The duvet felt damp where his face was on top of it. “Hey you.” you manage to say even though your voice was quiet. Sherlock looked up. His eyes were red and watery from crying. “(Y/N)!” Sherlock exclaimed whilst he tenderly kissed your hand. A smile crept onto your face. You looked around the room. There was a smashed vase and a set of drawers that had been ripped apart. The curtains in the room had also been partially pulled down. Then it dawned on you. A sinking feeling began to wash over you.

You tried to sit up whilst you whimpered in pain. “Don’t move too much. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Sherlock said as he carefully helped you to sit up. Your eyes filled with tears as you stared into his.
“And we both know that I have also lost something far more precious.” you said crying. Sherlock slowly nodded his head as he began to cry. He moved up towards you and kissed your forehead before hugging you. You pressed you face into his chest, muffling your sobs.

One week later

221B was full of colour as bunches of flowers of sympathy from friends and family filled the room. The biggest bouquet by far was from Mycroft. You sat in John’s chair reading a book as Sherlock read the newspaper, but he was really staring at you. You sighed placing the book down and rubbing your stomach. It was still sore. “I’m just going to pop out to the shop, maybe buy something for lunch. The doctor says that exercise is good for my recovery.” you say wincing slightly as you stood up.
“Great idea, I’ll tag along. Fancy chips?” Sherlock added as he grabbed his jacket.
“Sherlock. I’m only going to shop on the corner. I can go by myself.” you smile.
“No.” he growled. “You’re not safe out there any more. Last time you went out. You… We lost our…” his voice was breaking. “It was my fault I should have listened to you. I should have quit while I was ahead.”

You walked up and hugged him.“The only person at fault was that maniac. Think about it. Going out by myself isn’t all bad. We would have never met if I didn’t bend the rules and go out on my own.” you smile as Sherlock’s mouth also curled up into a smile.
You reached forward and grabbed Sherlock’s hand. Despite there still being pain in his eyes, the smile stayed on his face. “Chips?” he asked as you both walked down the stairs and out of 221B. “It’s a date. You psychopath.” you reply, staring into his eyes.
“High functioning sociopath.” he protests before gently pressing his lips on yours.

Internalizing Shadow Work

Shadow work is a daunting process to say the least. Working up the gall to pursue this type of spiritual work is no easy feat. It’s a little like opening Pandora’s box– once you start, there’s no going back. This can often lead to an overwhelming feeling of dismay in early stages of progress, I can tell you that firsthand. 

Truly, the easier part of shadow work is unearthing that which has been claimed by the subconscious. As harrowing as that process may be in itself, I’ve found that it is assimilating what has been learned that is the true challenge. Regardless of how much you know doing so would improve your life, it can be challenging to actually apply your revelations to everyday life– but it’s also the only way shadow work generates viable results. 

In the midst of your practice, you may [have] come to a point where you think, “Okay, so I have become aware of this aspect of myself and how/why it has materialized in this way. But now, what do I do with this information– how do I apply it to my life?

Don’t get me wrong, I am no expert. I still have sooo much work to do in this arena; it can be disheartening to be frank. Sometimes I question whether my efforts have spawned any benefits at all, because I feel like all I’ve done is stirred up a slough of silt. But there is a persistent voice, somewhere within the throes of my mildly nauseating, self-induced turmoil, that keeps uttering sweet reassuring sentiments all the while. 

And this is that voice, encouraging myself and others not to give up, to continue relentlessly persevering…

Remember, you are perfect just as you are– or let’s say perfectly imperfect, to be more precise. 

You don’t always have to be so hard on yourself. You don’t have to rush. You don’t have to transform overnight to find a fulfilling sense of self-improvement. As paradoxical as it may seem, total acceptance is a huge part of shadow work. You must reach acceptance before you can move forward. 

So here I’d like to share a few quick tips to help internalize what has been revealed through your shadow workings, because I know I can’t be the only one who experiences difficulty doing so. 

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423: Contagious

Drabble request by @thevioletthourr​: Hey! My request would be song 423 with the sentence “Storms don’t last forever.” 

Word Count: 875

A/N: This song gets stuck in my head so easily. I don’t know what it is about Boys Like Girls, but this girl definitely likes those boys (see what I did there? Huh? Huh? Wow. Tough crowd). Anyway, they have tons of good songs. I definitely recommend them!

Version en Español: 423: Contagioso

Song 423: Contagious by Boys Like Girls


“Dude,” Sam slid onto the stool next to Dean. “That was the third girl you turned down in the last hour. What the hell is going on with you?”

“Just not in the mood, Sam. Leave it alone.” Dean nursed his beer and tried to think about the hunt. Some sort of monster with an appetite for children. That had to be the number one priority right now. Monsters eating innocent kids? No way Dean was going to let that bastard live.

“Seriously. Are you sick? You’ve had that same beer for the last two hours. You haven’t been speeding lately. You barely touch your food. And you haven’t even looked at a chick in—“ Sam cut off in sudden understanding once he did the mental math, but Dean wasn’t about to let that string of conversation happen.

“You keeping tabs on me, Sammy? I’m flattered, really. Maybe you should turn your powers of observation toward the case.”

Sam sighed. “Dean, you left her, remember?”

“I know,” Dean spat out, remembering every single detail of that rainy Wednesday night when he walked away from you. “You don’t have to remind me, Sammy.”

Dean’s animosity was palpable, so Sam shifted the conversation toward the case and away from you.

For the next few days, Dean pushed you as far from his mind as he could. The monster. That was the only thing that mattered. But as soon as the son of a bitch was dead, Sam was right on the warpath again.

“What are you doing, dude?” Sam asked as they drove away from town. “You’re miserable. She’s probably miserable too.”

“I’m not talking about this.”

“You guys had something great and you’re just going to let that go?”

“What am I supposed to do, Sam? Take her on the road with us? She’s the dinner and movie kind of girl and I don’t do that shit. She has money and I wear holey clothes that have blood stains on them. She’s lives in the rich, new Mercedes world and we deal with demons on a daily basis. You of all people should know that the hunter life isn’t meant for relationship crap.”

For the next few weeks, Dean deflected the conversation each time Sam tried to bring it up. Then Sam left his laptop open one day and Dean happened to catch a glimpse of your Facebook profile on the screen. At first, he managed to tear himself away without giving into his curiosity. But after walking past a few times, he found himself sitting down and scrolling through your timeline.

There were a few pictures that you were tagged in with your friends, but your smile was off. It wasn’t the bright, excited smile that Dean had fallen in love with. Then he reached a status that you’d posted a few weeks after he broke up with you and he couldn’t breathe correctly.

Y/N posted: Storms don’t last forever? Then why can’t I see the end in sight?

As if moving on their own volition, Dean found his fingers scrolling through the comments. So many of your friends expressed concern and support, but it didn’t seem like any of them knew what you were talking about. Then he got to one comment from your brother.

Anthony commented: Do I need to kick some douchebag’s ass?

Y/N replied: He’s not a douchebag. Just a misguided, overprotective idiot.

There were more replies, but Dean’s eyes focused on the last word of that comment and his mind traveled back to the first time he kissed you.

*****

“I don’t fit in here.” Dean motioned to the entirety of your New York penthouse. “I grew up in shitty hotel rooms and ate vending machine snacks more often than not.”

You shook your head with a soft smile painting your lips and scooted closer to him on your couch. “If you think how you grew up matters to me, then you’re an idiot, Dean Winchester. But you’re my idiot. So you fit in wherever I am.”

Dean looked away from the expensive décor and focused entirely on your beautiful eyes. You reached out and rested your hand on the back of his neck, urging him closer to you. It didn’t take much pressure at all.

Just before you kissed him, you laughed lightly. “Besides, I grew up in a one bedroom apartment with my single mother, my brother, and my two sisters. We’re not that different.”

“Are you calling yourself an idiot too, then?”

Another magical laugh escaped your lips just before they touched his.

*****

That kiss was the moment that you infected Dean with whatever love bug he’d been feeling.

Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was out of his seat in one second, and sprinting up the stairs towards the door in the next second. The revving of the Impala’s engine in his ears cemented his purpose and it wasn’t long before he was going ninety-five on the highway, pointed towards New York. He really was an idiot, letting you go like that and leaving his heart behind. Now he was going after you and nothing would get in his way.

Storms may not last forever, but what he felt for you definitely would. 



Lyrics & Tags Under The Cut

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things you said // nurseydex

a/n: took a break from my swawesome santa (also need a beta for that hmu if ur interested) to churn out some cheesy nurseydex. it……has been a rough few weeks. hope this makes some ppl smile. 6k, those Corny But Classic™ ‘things you said’ prompts.

things you said that surprised me

Don’t get Nursey wrong, he loves a good Kegster – sweaty, loud, beer spilling down the front of his shirt, the Haus practically pulsing with a mix off Holster’s iPod – but he thinks there may or may not be something to say for just hanging out in the living room with the guys, smoking weed or watching TV or just talking, piled on top of each other across the couch and happily enclosed in the trademark Haus Bubble.

It’s almost better than the rush he gets from crowdsurfing or dancing on the kitchen table, he thinks, digging his toes further beneath Dex’s legs. Dex pauses just to throw a halfhearted glare in his direction before taking a swallow of beer. 

Something at the bottom of Nursey’s stomach flutters, immediately followed by a silent, internal berating. Get it together, you weirdo.

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Word count: 1.3K

Pairing: Eric (Coulter) x Reader

[Part 1] [Part 2]

A/N: uhhhhh im back it again with this horrible fic that people seem to love. Sad to say that there is barely any Eric in this chapter but it’s///angsty (i think??)///. Enjoy!

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since you left Eric in the center of the field with nothing but a hurting heart and something close to goddamn nothing to help him come to amends. You can’t say you didn’t hate yourself for what you did, because now? Now Eric was hurting and he was hurting bad  — but of course, that damn bastard won’t show it for the life of him, and instead acts out on the one impulse he knows best: being one hell of a major dick to everyone.

You could tell he was picking fights and throwing more of that Eric Coulter charm at anyone who even looked at him wrong —  it was evident in the way his knuckles formed bruises that weren’t there the day prior, or how one day he showed up to training with stitches on his lip.

You watched from afar, slowly, painfully, as your best friend tore himself inside out because you chose to put yourself first that day —  to finally make a decision for you to be happy on your own. And honesty, you weren’t too sure if him acting out was because Eric truly had feelings towards you or because he just merely missed the anchor that you provided for him as his best friend, but it was beginning to hurt to watch him suffer.

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until you’re better.

based on this writing prompt.

a/n: hi! useless author’s note here, but this is my first riverdale imagine so I do hope you all cut me some slack. here’s juggie <3 i really hope im playing him right. please do correct me if i wrote something wrong !!

Ship: JugheadxReader

Words: 883 (i’m sorry it’s so short i jsut wanted to write something)

Tags: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

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Horizon Light - Part One

@fireflyfish is a terrible enabler pass it on.

Horizon Light
Part One, ~1200 Words
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Qui-Gon Jinn (Past)
Additional Tags: Pacific Rim AU, Jaeger Pilots Obi-Wan & Anakin, Mentions of Suicide/Suicidal Ideation, Canon-Typical Violence, Poor Coping Strategies, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn.

Summary: As the Kaiju War rages on, the fall of two Jaegers leaves their surviving pilots alone and devastated. Obi-Wan Kenobi is suicidal, Anakin Skywalker is homicidal, and the Powers that Be can do nothing but hope the pair will balance each other out before they lose two of their best pilots to their vices.

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Confusion - Noctis/Reader

Very important writer’s note here, people, so please take note before you read any further.

This drabble is a work of fiction, set in a world where some violence and situations can be understood (not excused) and worked through. In the real world, if your partner makes an attempt on your life or is violent towards you please please please get yourself to safety (and medical aid if necessary) immediately and do not stay in that relationship. Run in the opposite direction and do not go back.

I received two requests regarding the guys getting hit with confusion status and attacking their s/o. This is the first of what will be four chapters.

Noctis - Gladiolus - Prompto - Ignis

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Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week day two writing prompt: Comfort

Right. Okay. So people seemed to enjoy the drabble from yesterday, so here’s a much requested follow-up, based on the prompt “comfort” even though it sorta took on a life of it’s own. Turned out more than twice as long as the previous one, but I’m pretty sure it still counts as a drabble. And I’m still sorry.

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