fracturedmotivationwriting - Tumblr blog

fracturedmotivationwriting · 5 months

Text

Once you were sure you wouldn’t be missed, you subtly stepped away from the others, finding yourself a place where you would be out of view as you shakily leaned up against the nearest solid surface, struggling to focus your swimming vision. Discretely, one hand shifted to grip at the source of your troubles, a shuddering and pained breath leaving your lips.

It had been easy to hide your injuries at first, but as the hours passed by and you continued to force yourself to keep going, the constant activity had started to take its toll.

You’d felt it necessary to hide them at the time, but now that everything had come to a close, you were left uncertain as to what to do from here. It felt wrong to break up their excitement over their success, especially when you could tell that your wounds had become incredibly serious, even if they hadn’t quite started out that way in the beginning.

Bracing yourself, you tried to step away from the surface that was supporting you, only to instantly feel your world tip and skew as your body lost it’s strength. Distantly, you heard a panicked shout of your name, though your vision and hearing were too distorted to make out who had done so.

As you watched their blurred visage rush towards your falling form, you finally allowed yourself to give into the darkness tugging at your senses, sending out a silent apology in your thoughts, even though you knew it would never be heard.

Despite your efforts, it seemed the matter was now well and truly out of your hands.

886 notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 6 months

Text

carmen 'carmy' berzatto masterlist

Thee Carmy x Reader 'Make My Heart Surrender' Universe (In Chronological Order):

comfort & chaos (prequel to make my heart surrender)

a series of vignettes: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (completed)

the phone call (blurb - the phone call that gets reader to chicago in the first place)

make my heart surrender

after quitting your job at the restaurant you both used to work at, carmy asks you to come in and work with his pastry chef at his new spot, the bear. only, the longer you stick around, it becomes clear that you have unfinished business. will one week in chicago change your life, and his, forever? (completed)

home (final chapter from comfort & chaos - **smut)

try a little tenderness (fluff & angst blurb)

cigarettes & coffee (fluffy blurb)

j is for james beard... and for jealousy (**smut oneshot | 18+ only)

sister-in-law (fluff oneshot -- guest starring natalie berzatto)

still into you (sequel to make my heart surrender)

you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (completed)

don't want to walk alone

the long awaited wedding fic for carmy x reader in the make my heart surrender universe. this six part series chronicles the wedding planning, your (not) bachelorette party, the wedding, and the honeymoon as you build a life with your husband-to-be. (completed)

carmy as your baby daddy

a social media au & headcanon series detailing your first pregnancy with carmy. created for the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone work. this has been created in collaboration with @carmensberzattos & @allthefandomstogether , the graphic goddess. (completed)

extras/moodboards/headcanons/imagines:

your life as a pastry chef in chicago while dating carmy (moodboard & headcanon)

meeting mikey in another lifetime (headcanon)

pov: you're marrying carmen berzatto (moodboard)

honeymoon lingerie moodboard

Unrelated to Make My Heart Surrender:

(nothing here YET but working on it)

4K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 6 months

Text

"Today, we're going to learn about transformation curses. They're illegal in every corner of the kingdom, which is a very lame because they have high potential for both drama and comedy."

"Why are we learning about them if we're not allowed to do them?"

"I didn't say you weren't allowed to do them. I said they were illegal. We witches are above the laws of kings, and I say that being turned into a frog builds character."

2K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 6 months

Text

“How many people have died to achieve this world domination of yours?” “769.” “…What?” “769 people died to achieve my plans. I counted them, and had each of their names etched on my throne so I never forget what my victory cost the world. Now tell me, how many have you killed to see me dead?”

54K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 6 months

Text

Prompt: 107

The prophecy had been left for her on a lipstick stained bar napkin with a crude illustration of a fish below it.

64 notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 6 months

Text

Hey! Are there blacksmiths in your story? I'm a hobbyist blacksmith and I'm here to help!

Blacksmithing is one of those things that a lot of people get wrong because they don't realize it stuck around past the advent of the assembly line. Here's a list of some common misconceptions I see and what to do instead!

Not all blacksmiths are gigantic terrifying muscly guys with beards and deep voices. I am 5'8, skinny as a twig, have the muscle mass of wet bread, and exist on Tumblr. Anybody who is strong enough to pick up a hammer and understands fire safety can be a blacksmith.

You can make more than just swords with blacksmithing. Though swords are undeniably practical, they're not the only things that can be made. I've made candle holders, wall hooks, kebab skewers, fire pokers, and more. Look up things other people have made, it's really amazing what can be done.

"Red-hot" is actually not that hot by blacksmith terms. when heated up, the metal goes from black, to red, to orange, to yellow, to white. (for temperature reference, I got a second degree burn from picking up a piece of metal on black heat) The ideal color to work with the metal is yellow. White is not ideal at all, because the metal starts sparking and gets all weird and lumpy when it cools. (At no point in this process does the metal get even close to melting. It gets soft enough to work with, but I have never once seen metal become a liquid.)

Blacksmithing takes fucking forever. Not even taking into account starting the forge, selecting and preparing metal, etc. etc. it takes me around an hour to make one (1) fancy skewer. The metals blacksmiths work with heat up and cool down incredibly fast. When the forge is going good, it only takes like 20 seconds to get your metal hot enough to work with, but it takes about the same time for it to cool down, sometimes even less.

As long as you are careful, it is actually stupidly easy to not get hurt while blacksmithing. When I picked up this hobby I was like "okay, cool! I'm gonna make stuff, and I'm gonna end up in the hospital at some point!" Thus far, the latter has yet to occur. I've been doing this for nearly a year. I have earned myself a new scar from the aforementioned second degree burn, and one singe mark on my jeans. I don't even wear gloves half the time. Literally just eye protection, common sense, and fast reflexes and you'll probably be fine. (Accidents still happen of course, but I have found adequate safety weirdly easy to achieve with this hobby)

A forge is not a fire. The forge is the thing blacksmiths put their metal in to heat it up. It starts as a small fire, usually with newspaper or something else that's relatively small and burns easily, which we then put in the forge itself, which is sort of a fireplace-esque thing (there's a lot of different types of forge, look into it and try to figure out what sort of forge would make the most sense for the context you're writing about) and we cover it with coal, which then catches fire and heats up. The forge gets really hot, and sometimes really bright. Sometimes when I stare at the forge for too long it's like staring into the sun. The forge is also not a waterfall of lava, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.

Welding and blacksmithing are not the same thing. They often go hand-in-hand, but you cannot connected two pieces of metal with traditional blacksmithing alone. There is something called forge welding, where you heat your metal, sprinkle borax (or the in-universe equivalent) on it to prevent the metal from oxidizing/being non-weldable, and hammer the pieces together very quickly. Forge welding also sends sparks flying everywhere, and if you're working in a small space with other blacksmiths, you usually want to announce that you're welding before you do, so that everyone in a five-foot radius can get out of that five-foot radius. You also cannot just stuck some random pebbles into the forge and get a decent piece of metal that you can actually make something with, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.

Anvils are really fucking heavy. Nothing else to add here.

Making jewelry is not a blacksmithing thing unless you want jewelry made of steel. And it will be very ugly if you try. Blacksmithing wasn't invented to make small things.

If there's anything here I didn't mention, just ask and I'll do my best to answer.

36K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 1 year

Text

gestures that gets me on my knees.

(feel free to use<3 the kisses ones are.. im- i-... yall better tag when u write these or else check under ur bed before sleep! :) )

lingering with your lips open, touching, but not kissing, and this one glance at their eyes and you say fuck it and pull at their collar to kiss them

heavily breathing after a kiss (damn ittitit)

gulping when they get a little too close

and not knowing how to talk or exist after they finish kissing you like they've been needing that kiss for a lifetime!!!

loosing your mind when they tilt your chin to look you in the eye

pulling them by their belt to kiss them>>

lazy kisses in the morning, that starts with a grunt as they pull you closer to them as you try to get up and lazily placing kisses all over face and ends with a hoarse whisper from them asking you to stay. fucjfuck

their mouth at your ear, whispering!!!

"give me a chance. to prove what i can make you feel." (ohmykgodks)

when they kiss you, hard, gripping, shaking breaths, fists in each other's clothes, against a wall, but they stop. and smirk, "you want that, love? i want cuddles though." and their grin is too wide, stupid and cocky and beautiful.

you're holding on by a thread and they sort of grin against your lips, mumbling, "just lose control, love."

that glance at your body with their eyes subtly widening, almost gulping as they take in your attire. fuck.

the lips are hot, soft, settling, nibbling and gasping, pulling onto each other for more and when you stop, they have their eyes closed, heavily exhaling, hair ruffled, and they look like the prettiest mess ever.

holding your hands above your head as they kiss you

18K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 1 year

Text

bickering like a married couple - some silly arguments for your otp to get into

prompt list by @novelbear | requested: @generalfee

"move, you're on my side of the couch."

sneakily placing another dish next to their partner as they're finishing up with the dishes. then laughing through an apology as it naturally sets them off

arguing in the grocery store aisle because one wants normal oreos while the other wants to try one of the new, random flavors that just got released

"no, i'm not going to give you a bite because i know you're not gonna like it. then you're going to ask me how the hell i like it, and i don't want to listen to that right now."

"get up, you're snoring and i can't hear the movie." "then turn it up..." "so you can yell at me for waking you up? no!" "you woke me up anyway!"

"oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch."

if they have a pet, they might fight over whether or not they should let them climb on the furniture

getting annoyed when one sets an alarm which inevitably wakes the other up much earlier than they intended.

"uh-uh, no more reading before bed. you keep waking me up with your dramatic gasps every time you turn the page." "well, i'm sorry that i engage and connect deeply with literature!"

bickering over the right amount of toothpaste that should be put on the brush

^ or over one taking wayyy too long in the shower

"what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-"

"take an extra jacket, it's cold out." "okay, mom."

7K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 1 year

Text

A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king’s knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It’s been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.

8K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 1 year

Text

Some Quick Character Tips

Here are a handful of quick tips to help you write believable characters!

1. A character’s arc doesn’t need to grow linearly. Your protagonist doesn’t have to go from being weak to strong, shy to confident, or novice to professional in one straight line. It’s more realistic if they mess up their progress on the way and even decline a bit before reaching their goal.

2. Their past affects their present. Make their backstory matter by having their past events shape them into who they are. Growing up with strict parents might lead to a sneaky character, and a bad car accident might leave them fearful of driving.

3. Give reoccurring side characters something that makes them easily recognizable. This could be a scar, a unique hairstyle, an accent, or a location they’re always found at, etc.

4. Make sure their dialogue matches their personality. To make your characters more believable in conversation, give them speech patterns. Does the shy character mumble too low for anyone to ever hear, does the nervous one pace around and make everyone else on edge?

5. Make your characters unpredictable. Real people do unexpected things all the time, and this can make life more exciting. The strict, straight-A student who decides to drink at a party. The pristine princess who likes to visit the muddy farm animals. When character’s decide to do things spontaneously or in the heat of the moment, it can create amazing twists and turns.

6. Give even your minor character’s a motive. This isn’t to say that all your characters need deep, intricate motives. However, every character should need or want something, and their actions should reflect that. What’s the motive behind a side character who follows your protagonist on their adventure? Perhaps they’ve always had dreams of leaving their small village or they want to protect your protagonist because of secret feelings.

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting

23K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 1 year

Text

“you’re not here to slay me and save the princess?” “No I want to join you guys. A pretty princess with an awesome dragon in an isolated castle away from society? That’s a pretty sweet gig.”

7K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 1 year

Text

Prompt 2111

A backpacker hiking across Europe stops in a small remote town, but as they learn more about the local history, they uncover some dark secrets that lead to a series of tunnels underground.

76 notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 1 year

Text

Witchcraft is illegal, but you’re not a witch! You and your coven- I mean, you and your friends are just exceptionally good alchemists.

6K notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 2 years

Text

Alice Returns Home

Between the blood loss and shock, Alice was certain she'd been in and out of consciousness since James found her. At the very least, she had been blacking out intermittently. She vaguely remembers Jamie undoing her restraints and carrying her to a car, Torin speeding through the city as Atticus and Cal bickered over the fastest route, Ravyn reluctantly agreeing to Alice's whispered pleas of 'no hospitals' and taking charge of the boys around them. But these were fleeting memories in Alice's head, with no details or connections between them.

This might explain why Alice felt like her senses were gradually coming alive. It was like slowly waking on a lazy morning -- the scent of fresh coffee rousing your senses, first muffled sounds becoming clear, sight blurring as eyes blink open. Alice felt like she was waking up from a dream as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. She blinked slowly, staring at her reflection but not really taking it in. She heard muffled voices arguing outside the closed door. The tiled floor was cold against her bare feet. She could still smell the bleach she had used to clean her shower yesterday -- well, two days ago, she supposed. The lights overhead were too strong, too bright. Alice closed her eyes.

The bathroom door creaked open. Alice's heartbeat quickened. Someone stepped in beside her, closing the door behind them. Alice took a stuttering breath. Warm and woodsy spices filled her senses. The scents of jasmine, saffron, and papyrus wrapped around her like a hug. Ravyn.

"I'm going to help you clean up. Then Cal's going to come in and stitch you up. Okay?"

Her voice was quiet, soft. It was the same voice she used when Alice had come to her, bloody and rumpled and shaking in fear that one horrific Valentine's Day. Alice supposed it was only fitting Ravyn would be comforting and cleaning her up again after Lev.

Alice nodded. Eyes still closed. She felt Ravyn moving around her. A gentle hand on her shoulder. Careful fingers help Alice strip out of her bloody clothes. A washcloth ran under a faucet. Warmed terrycloth gently wiping away the dirt and blood -- first her body, then her face. A pause.

Alice blinked her eyes open. Ravyn's eyes shone before her, sorrow and shared pain clinging to the unshed tears. Something lingered underneath. Alice blinked. Unconditional love. Alice's own vision blurred with unshed tears. Ravyn's hand gently cupped her cheek. Her forehead pressed to Alice's gently.

Alice reached up and squeezed the hand that cupped her cheek. They both took a shuddery breath before Ravyn stepped back. She nodded harshly, building her cool, calm, collected facade back up.

"I'm going to grab you a tank top and some shorts."

Alice nodded. She closed her eyes as Ravyn left.

When she blinked them open, Cal was before her. Intermittent blackout, Alice mused. She glanced down. A pale purple tank top and pale blue pajama shorts adorned her body. Alice poked at a hole on the hem of the top. Cal cleared his throat.

Alice looked up. First, she noticed the syringe in his hand. Wordlessly, Alice held out her arm. Second, she realized that Cal was refusing to meet her eyes. Relief flooded through her body, lulling the dull aches in her muscles and making her sway slightly as the syringe's plunger came down.

Cal's hands grabbed her elbows the moment she swayed. He guided her to the lid of the toilet. Crouching before her, he silently got to work stitching her wounds. He started with her collarbone.

He still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Alice shut her eyes as the needle and thread worked their way through her skin. It didn't hurt, but she could still feel every tug and pull. She traced every movement in her head. Twelve stitches. A pause. Alice blinked slowly.

Cal wasn't looking at her. He was standing. His high-level first aid kit was open before him on the counter, but he wasn't digging through it.

Alice eyed his white knuckles as he gripped the sides of the sink. His head was hanging low. His whole body was tense. Like he was trying desperately to keep his muscles still. To keep from shaking. Alice watched his jaw clench and unclench repeatedly.

She reached forward. A delicate finger traced the bruises on his knuckles. His grip lessened, bringing a rush of color to his hands, making the bruises all the more prominent. But his hand didn't let go of the counter. Alice suspected that if he did, she'd see a slight tremor in his hands.

She'd felt a slight tremor as he'd stitched her collar. Barely noticeable, but she'd seen Cal effortless stitch up Atticus and Torin many times. He'd never shaken as she had felt.

Cal took a deep breath. He stood up straight. Composed himself. Returned to his crouched position before her, a new needle and thread held in his hand. No tremor.

But still not looking in her eyes.

Alice's hand rushed forward, grabbing his wrist before he could bring the needle to her face. Her grip was strong, despite her small and exhausted body. It was enough to startle Cal into finally meeting her eyes.

They stared at each other for a beat. Cal refused to drop his stony and unfeeling facade. Alice refused to look away and give him a way out. But she studied his eyes. Tried to unbury whatever he was hiding.

Alice opened her mouth.

"I-"

Her voice was harsh. Rough and unused. After her screaming as Lev carved her up, Alice had steeled herself into silence at his taunting. Other than a few murmured words to James and Ravyn, she hadn't used her voice since those screams.

Alice cleared her throat. She could see the first chip in Cal's demeanor.

"I'm here."

She watched Cal roll his eyes, his usually snarky personality falling into place. She continued before he could speak.

"I'm alive. I'm okay."

The chip was turning into a crack. Cal's jaw clenched. Alice watched the fire burn in his eyes. She pushed forward before he could speak.

"And we will find him."

The fire lingered, but Alice didn't miss the flood of shame that crossed his face. She pressed on.

"He won't get away again. He won't hurt me again."

The cracks gave way. The fire of hatred for Lev still burned brightly, but Alice could see the flood of shame and guilt washing through Cal. The sorrow. She could have sworn she saw his eyes glistening just a little. Not that he'd ever admit that. Not that she'd ever point it out.

Alice leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.

"This isn't your fault, Excalibur. Still, I know you'll protect me. I know you will help me find him. And I know you will let me kill him."

She felt Cal's hand tremor in his grip. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. They stayed still for a beat before Cal rolled his shoulder back, sniffed, and gently nudged her away.

Alice gave him a small smile before closing her eyes. The needle and thread worked their way over her face.

When she blinked her eyes open again, Alice was perched on the side of her bed. The lights were dimmed down and someone had already pulled back the covers for her.

The muffled sounds of arguing family could be heard outside her bedroom. She picked at a loose thread on her shorts. Atticus and Cal's harsh voices overlapped one another, drowning out James and Torin's softer murmurs. Alice's eyes drifted to the window. She stumbled forward, pulling the curtains shut tightly. Ravyn's voice cut through the chatter. Commanding the family and leaving no room for debate. Murmured reluctant agreements. The click of a door closing, followed by a series of locks. The alarm system beeps. Alice sits back on the edge of the bed. She closes her eyes.

Soft footsteps. Someone crouches before her. Calloused fingers gently brush against her knee. Alice resists the urge to kick as the scent of rain floods her senses. A hint of mint underneath. A subtle lingering of something musty. Alice thinks it's the scent of hemlock, but she can't be sure. But the mixture of scents brings a warmth to her heart. James.

"Wonderland."

His voice is quiet, gentle. As if he's afraid speaking too loud would shatter her. It might.

Alice blinks her eyes open. He's kneeling before her. Simultaneously looking depressed and overjoyed. Alice suspects that he'll look that way for quite a while. It'll take time for him to wrestle with the guilt that he shouldn't feel about her kidnapping, and give into the joy that she's alive and here with him.

He offers her a small smile when he catches her eyes.

"You should get some rest, Wonderland. I'll be on the couch keeping guard."

Alice stops him from going too far. Her hand gripping his forearm tightly. She hopes it doesn't bruise.

"Stay. Please?"

She watches as James practically melts at her words. But she can see his internal struggle a mile away. He just got her back. Their relationship is still on rocky grounds, and he just got her back from her psychotic ex's kidnapping. To stay in her bed would feel like an intrusion -- like he was taking advantage.

Alice tugs on his arm.

"I'll be safer with you beside me. No one's going to come through the front door."

His resolve is crumbling.

"Much more likely to break in through the window," she adds pointedly.

It earns her a half-amused chuckle. James presses a kiss on her forehead.

"I feel better with you in arms reach," she admits, softer.

Again, James practically melts at her words. He wraps around to the other side of the bed, taking the side closest to the door. Alice slips under the covers beside him. She turns to face him, her hand reaching out to intertwine their fingers.

"I feel better with you in arms reach too, Wonderland."

Alice sleeps peacefully that night. Alice isn't surprised. She feels safest in James' arms.

#a coalition story #james and alice

4 notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 2 years

Text

"Figures that you would be the one to try and kill me first. What'll it be? Knife through my ribs or poison in my coffee?"

"... Dude, I was just getting some chips. When's the last time you slept?"

320 notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 2 years

Text

Lift home (2) // Roy Kent

Pairing(s): Roy Kent x female reader (she/her pronouns).

Summary: Part two of the mini series.

Warning(s): N/A

Author's note: I've been sitting on this for a while because I don't think it's that good. I've already started part three that has more 'plot' but I just thought fuck it, I post this, it's cute even though it's short.

Part One // Part Two

Your feet drag as you walk out the small side door of the football club, the carpark in front of you desolate and dusty.

Not even Colin’s new sports car of the week is haphazardly parked because the Welshman gave up on driving it (a thing he did with his last car, a bright red Mercedes.)

Everything is just empty.

Unlike the day before the damp ground has dried up and the sun is out in full bloom. This means you’re sweating your ass off and slightly irritated.

Typical really.

The day before was damp and cold, the dirty water dripping from the faulty window frames on the windowsill of your desk pressed to the side wall of the office and now it’s ungodly bright, the sun has been shining bright in your eyes for most of the day.

You’re overheated in your black skirt and blazer, if you had known it was going to boiling then you would have worn something less heat conductive. All day your side has been burning from the black fabric, even with your blazer off your thighs have been warm in the worst way possible.

At least you have been wise enough to put sun cream on.

Like clockwork, blazer slung over your shoulder bag and eyes droopy from the heat, your feet drag to towards the gate leading out into the streets.

The day before when Roy Kent dropped you off hasn’t left you head since he nodded a goodbye to you, him waiting outside your home until he knew you were safely inside. However, the agreement for him to take you home today (and every day after today after that) has drifted away with the rain that was once there the day before.

Instead, you route through you bag, making sure you haven’t left anything on your desk, your feet following the same tired path towards bus stop with the grey building in front of it.

“Oi!” a gruff voice that can only be Roy Kent yells making you spin around.

“Huh?” you loudly exclaim as you raise your hands to shield your eyes from the sun’s gaze.

In the far corner of the car park leans Roy Kent and his giant black car, both things you completely missed on first glance despite them being very obvious to anyone else.

“I thought practice was over an hour ago?” you question as you walk closer to the man all in black and leather, no sorry, charcoal grey and leather.

“Yeah it did.” he starts as he walks a couple steps closer to you, “but you were still in your office weren’t you.”

Truth be told Roy Kent had been hovering around the outside of your office for a good ten minutes before chickening out and waiting by his car for you.

For one thing he hadn’t realised before that you actually shared your office with two other people, people he didn’t really want to interact with at all.

He didn’t want to seem weird.

Yes, the gruff captain of AFC Richmond didn’t want to spook your work colleagues with his blunt words and stubbly face.

He had done that once before Rebecca was the owner of Richmond, he felt like the odd one out and he really didn’t like accidentally scaring the corporate people with his looming presents even if it was somewhat funny looking back at it.

So, Roy had decided to wait by his car instead of knocking on your shared office door.

It was simpler that way.

Of course he had clocked you right away when your walked out into the carpark though you certainly hadn’t clocked him and his big car that’s kind of hard to miss. So, after shouting the gruff ‘oi’ you now you both stand next to one another.

“Lift home?” his reminder to you comes more as a question, a slight waver in his voice from his ever growing nervousness, thought the waver in his voice sounds more like a grunt.

Over the coming months Roy has come to fancy you quite a bit and whilst he won’t say it to anyone else he does get an odd fluttery feeling in his stomach when he talks to you for more than a sentence.

And right now his stomach is filled with a swarm of butterflies that make him want to run away and throw up his emotions.

“Oh!” you exclaim the sudden remembrance of the deal hitting you on the head like football, "Yeah, sorry I forgot for a moment."

An awkward shuffle happens. Both you and Roy go for the passenger seat door handle, the footballer getting to it first and opening it for you.

“Sorry.” you apologise upon realising that in going for the door handle at the same time as Roy you’re now very close to him.

He merely nods and grunts, a hint of red creeping up his neck as he quickly rushes to the diver’s seat leaving you to climb into the plush seat of his car.

Once the two of you are secure in the car you break the silence with a simple but slightly deflective question.

“Is it true your new coach is coming from America?”

“Coaches and yeah, it’s going to be a fucking nightmare.”

A jovial giggle escapes you lips as Roy drives out of the carpark.

"I can't wait then."

107 notes · View notes

fracturedmotivationwriting · 2 years

Text

lovely little domestic prompts

feel free to use! :)

running their love interest a bath after a long work day

covering the sharp part of the table when they pass so they don’t hit their hip

“your mom is coming over today.” “tell her to bring fried rice or she’s not invited.” “you tell her, she’s your mom.” “but she likes you more!”

deciding together how they want their house to look

painting their child’s room together

“i meant it when i said i wanted to start a family with you.”

baby-proofing everything not because they have a child or are planning for one but because one character is clumsy as hell and the other is a worried mess alllll the time because of it

“wake up and come get breakfast, love.” “…. now…….. when i said yes to this whole marriage thing i thought we were on the same page and you understood when i said i don’t wake up before 6pm.” “i made hashbrowns.” “i’ll be right there.”

one character covering the other with a blanket when they fall asleep watching a movie on the couch

making tea or coffee for their love interest before bed (and just the fact that they know exactly how they like their tea and coffee swooon)

cooking anything together honestly, not even needing to ask where the items are because they’re so in tune and used to each other

“where’s the new coffee mix?” “i’ll tell you if you tell me where you put the keys?” “i TOLD you i don’t know where—”

long movie nights where one is in charge of the blanket and pillow fort and one is in charge of the snacks

them going on a short trip and one character nagging the other about bringing their allergy meds

nagging in general, frankly

“it’s your turn to do the dishes.” “let’s get a divorce.” “we aren’t married yet, my love.” “well we sure as hell aren’t getting married now.”

“i am one hundred percent content to stay with you on this couch until the end of time.” “that sounds pretty damn lovely to me.”

14K notes · View notes