#SOBS.. THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE
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Hello! I came across your blog and read ur vin jin one shot and fell in love TT. If you dont mind could you write another vin jin one shot with reader on a study date? Thank you!!
studying, kind of (vin jin x reader)
details: fluffy oneshot, gender neutral reader but written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and vin jin are dating
summary: you do your best to help your troublesome boyfriend study.
a/n: hi!! and no worries, thank u for requesting, anon <33 im really glad u liked my other vin jin oneshot ;_; its always fun writing him !! 💖
erm,, i kind of expanded on the study date thing but i hope this still works for u T_T
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"Mary, S-O-fucking-S. My partner lied to me. They said we were gonna hang out!!!!!!"
"What?"
"They're forcing me to study instead!!!!"
"Lol deserved."
"NO!!! I NEED HELP!!!!!"
Vin Jin's phone nearly flew out of his hands when he heard you re-enter the room--your bedroom to be specific. He fumbled with it and then turned to you, totally not looking like he was up to no good. The second you smiled he melted and started to feel a tiny bit guilty for trying to escape. He pocketed his phone as you sat down next to him.
There was a plate of cut up apples with a fork and a glass of water in your hands that you set down on the low table between you two. He looked at them and then back at you with mild confusion.
"They're for you," you clarified, and he said a, "Oh, thanks!" before eating a piece of fruit. You took a moment to adore him before clearing your throat. He immediately paused his chewing as you began to speak, "Look. I know you don't want to do this, but if you fail the upcoming test, your grade is in serious trouble."
"So?"
The bluntness in his one-word response somehow caught you by surprise, despite how unsurprising it was. You just sighed a little. "That means you could be held back. Mary and I are going to move on without you."
"If you guys really cared, y'all would fail with me--ow!"
You left your hand on his arm where you had lightly whacked him, to give him a little shake. "I'm serious, Vin. Just once you have to get yourself together."
Vin Jin shrugged your hand off. "Okay, listen. I'm trying to become a rapper, right?" He stayed silently still until you eventually nodded and he went back to animatedly talking. "Right! So what the fuck has math got to do with rapping?!"
Internally, you groaned. "Nothing!! But you still need to graduate from this school!!"
"Why!!"
"So you can have a high school degree!!"
"I don't need that to be a rapper!!"
"Well, I want you to have one anyways!!" Before he could yell out another, "Why!!" (because you knew he would), you grabbed ahold of his face and had him look at you directly in the face. "Please, Vin."
He goes quiet and for probably half a minute, there's nothing but somewhat tense silence. Soon, he gave in, though. His hands clasped over yours and he replied, "Alright. Fine. Only because you're my lover."
You thinned your lips. At least he was agreeing now. "Just keep in mind this is also for your own sake."
"Sure..."
While he pouted, you grabbed your bag nearby and took out a bunch of materials, sorting through them and placing them on the table. "Grab your stuff, too, hun."
"Okay..."
His tone had you thinning your lips again, except out of sympathy this time. You poked his thigh to get his attention and said, "Before we start, I should let you know the plan. We're going to study for a little over an hour." You held your index finger up to stop him from interrupting. "But, we're going to take 5 minute breaks every 25 minutes. In other words, that's studying for 25 minutes 3 times, with 2 breaks totaling up to 10 minutes of break time. That doesn't sound too bad, right?"
A flurry of emotions went through Vin Jin's expression until it settled on indifference. He gave you a nod and you smiled.
"Good! You'll be okay, Vin." You leaned in to kiss his cheek and then set up a timer on your phone. You slid over your notebook next to begin going over the notes you took to prepare for the test.
He still seemed kind of grumpy as he listened, but your kiss definitely lightened him up. He also seemed to feel better after finishing up the apples and water you brought for him.
~
When your alarm rang, Vin Jin yelled, "Finally!" as he yawned and leaned into you. "I'm gonna nap."
"That's fine," you hummed.
He turned his head a bit to look at you. "Oh shit, for real?"
"Yes." You continued flipping through the textbook in front of you. "Short naps are a way to still be productive during your breaks for this method of studying. It's backed up by science or something."
"Damn, that's crazy." Vin Jin turned back. "Well, good night."
You chuckled. "Good night."
And that was how he chose to spend the next break as well. Looking forward to the nap actually somewhat motivated him, and so did your kisses. He occasionally asked for them as rewards whenever he was right when you quizzed him or whatever "I can't remember the answer... if you kiss me, I might though," was.
It seemed like the first kiss you gave him on the cheek earlier worked better than you thought.
~
After the third 25 minute session ended, you genuinely felt pride in your non-studious boyfriend for sitting through this with you. Of course, the only proper thing to do was give him a kiss on the lips.
"Good job, Vin, you made it!" You beamed at him after pulling away. "We'll do this throughout the week and then hopefully you should be prepared for the test by then!" Your smile faltered a bit when you noticed your boyfriend looking off to the side. A look of curiosity replaced your current look as you stared at him, not saying anything because it seemed like he had something to say.
His cheeks were a little flushed as he cleared his throat and muttered, "Geez, am I a kid or something...?"
Lighthearted laughter spilled from your lips. "I'm just proud of you! It looked like you were putting in effort, so I'm happy."
"Good, because I kinda was." He crossed his arms, still looking embarrassed. "A-anyways, did you say we're doing this for the rest of the week?" You nodded. "Alright. I guess it's not so bad if it's with you..." In an attempt to change the focus on him, he forced a laugh and finally turned to look at you, saying, "You're a lot better than Mary at teaching, y'know?"
You couldn't help but grin. "I'm sure she did her best."
"Well, her best sucks."
"Uh-huh." You shook your head, softly laughing before stretching a little. "So, what do you want to do now? We can get takeout or something as a reward for all your hard work."
"Really?!" This time he pulled you in to kiss your cheek. "I don't know why you're being so nice to me, but hell, I ain't complaining."
You playfully rolled your eyes. "The work-hard-and-recieve-a-reward system seems to be the only thing keeping you motivated to study so that's what I'm doing."
"Hey, now that sounds like you're treating me like a dog!"
"It's working though~"
"I change my mind, you're as awful as Mary."
The bickering continued even after you both left the house to get takeout of Vin Jin's choice. Things cooled by the time you two began eating though, and before the both of you knew it, nighttime had fallen.
Of course, Vin Jin spent the night at your place. To him, spending time with you was the biggest reward of all in this whole new studying schedule thing.
~
"Can you believe it, Mary?! They actually made me like studying. Fucked up."
"That's them, for ya~ I don't actually think you like studying, though. It's just hanging out with them, hehe."
"Ugh... whatever."
#lookism x reader#vin jin x reader#vin jin#SOBS.. THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE#i got carried away tho lol ;;#its just fun to write about the cute mundane stuff that couples can do ;_; <33#also i always have so much fun writing vin + mary interactions <3#requests
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“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”
“Tt, of course.”
“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”
“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”
“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”
“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”
“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”
“They are training to gain influence over you?”
“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”
“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”
“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”
“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”
“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”
“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”
“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”
“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”
“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”
“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”
“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”
“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”
“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”
“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”
“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”
“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”
With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.
Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.
Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.
The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.
The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.
Though a lot more entertaining.
#dpxdc#dani phantom#danielle phantom#elle phantom#jon kent#jon el kent#damian wayne#justice league#super serious chaos#possible platonic super serious chaos it's up to yall#clones are called mirrorborn in the infinite realms#elle is the ancient of the speedforce#Dani Phantom is the Ancient of the Speedforce#I will make this happen if it kills me please someone else write something for this I'm going feral#impulsively marrying your friends to fuck with some of the most powerful entities in existence is a fun pass time everyone should try#their friends and family are exactly as unhinged as these three - sometimes even *More* unhinged - and can't say shit about it#so many justice league members are torn between sobbing because 'This was going to be a short meeting for once!' 😭#and being SO EXCITED because the chaos that is about to break out in this meeting room is going to be SO GOOD#There is so much tea that is going to be spilled at the cafeteria after this
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WHEN HE MISSES YOU MOST. . .
✫ ft. akaashi, suna, atsumu, and osamu x gn!reader
✫ a/n: clingy boys and when they miss you :( mention of food in samu's! also unedited bc when do i ever
✫ AKAASHI misses you most on late work nights, when the lamp in his office starts to strain his eyes and when his back starts to ache from the countless hours hunched over his desk. he glances at his watch often, searching for the motivation he needs to get through his final edits. and when he finally leaves marks on the last sheet of paper on his desk, he’s rushing out of the building to come straight to you. you know he’ll be extra clingy tonight — not only from his ‘be home soon, love’ text, but also from the deep sighs that left his lips when you called hours ago to ask when he’ll be home. and to no surprise, the second keiji opens the apartment door, he’s coming straight to you, leaning his head on your shoulder and taking in the scent of your shampoo. “god, what a long night,” another sigh leaves his lips. “need to hold you for a bit.”
✫ SUNA misses you most when you’re doing anything but giving him all your attention. and it all starts the second you get out of bed. when you're brushing your teeth, you leave the bathroom door open so he can slip in and sit on the edge of the tub, his warm fingers dancing at your waist. and when you go to the kitchen to make breakfast, he's clinging onto you from behind, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and leaving innocent kisses, one after the other. and when you turn around to look at him and give him what he's been waiting for (his good morning kiss, of course), rintaro melts into you, his tall stature shrinking to fit right against you. "you know what i want," he places a soft kiss to your jaw, "so why are you running away, hm?"
✫ ATSUMU gets clingy when he's sleepy. he's been trailing behind you ever since he came home from practice hours ago, leaning on the counter while you organized the kitchen, pulling you into his chest when you two settle onto the couch. "baby, i missed ya today," his voice trails off sleepily. "you say that every day," you say, leaning up to kiss his nose. his pink lips pull into a smile. he moves his hand from your hip to your cheek so he can hold your face, kissing your lips once before mumbling a quiet it's true. and you know that exhaustion's about to take over his body when his eyelids droop and his hand falls back to your hip. he rubs circles into your skin with remnants of that pretty smile on his face. you kiss his cheek once, then twice, and his grip on you tightens. "tsum, let's sleep on the bed. it's uncomfortable here." too tired to move, he simply adjusts so your body is between his legs, your head on his chest, and his large palm on the crown of your head to keep you secure.
✫ OSAMU misses you most when business is slow, when one or two customers filter into the shop. he thinks about when he first opened onigiri miya, and the big toothy smile on your face as you cheered him on in the kitchen. sometimes, he's grateful for a slow day. it means that he can get some time to himself in the kitchen. and most days, he'll call you as he prepares ingredients, asking you about your day and what you want for dinner that night. today, he sets up his phone by his cutting board so he could facetime you. the excitement in your voice brings a soft smile to his face. "whatcha up to, babe?" he asks, chopping up some ginger. he listens to your rambles, humming to indicate that he's listening. he loves feeling your presence even if it's through his phone. before he leaves work that night, he packs some extra onigiri for you, knowing you'd want to eat them while you sit on the counter as he cooks dinner.
#hi hello i found these in my drafts from a while ago !!!#i can't remember if this was a request or not sobs but this was fun to write i missed writing hcs so much#did a couple of my favs !#sayu.writes#akaashi x reader#akaashi fluff#suna x reader#suna fluff#atsumu x reader#atsumu fluff#osamu x reader#osamu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu hcs#hq hcs#hq headcanons#haikyu hcs
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👀 for the aus, maybe farawyn 1920s au? I feel like eowyn would fuck so hard with flapper subculture
it's the roaring 1920's in Middle Earth, despite the war looming on the horizon for Gondor and Rohan. Faramir runs a infamous club that doubly serves as a information center... he knows all the secrets coming in and out of Gondor. Too bad he's completely oblivious to the fact that Dernhelm, his valet/bartender/assistant, is actually the missing niece of the king of Rohan...
Eowyn runs away from home to live a more adventurous life, getting caught up in Faramir's espionage business, and quickly falls for her boss/friend. She ends up leading a double (Triple??) life when she has to balance pretending to be a man (Dernhelm) and a flapper dancer as equally infamous as the club she dances at.
Things get even more complicated when Faramir finds himself falling not just for "the woman of his dreams", but his valet Dernhelm too, completely oblivious to the fact that they are, in fact, the same person...
Farawyn 1920's AU ╰(*°▽°*)╯
Thanks so much for the prompt!! Had so much fun with this :D
#Farawyn#eowyn x faramir#faramir/eowyn#lotr#lord of the rings#lotr fanart#tolkien#tolkien fanart#lotr au#my art#i'm gonna have to reblog this in the morning bc i'm impatient and wanna post now at 8pm heh#Ahhh now i wanna write this *sobs*#anyway... had so much fun working with this prompt thank uuu!#1920s Farawyn AU
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no hard feelings
(a/n): dougie deserves all the love and carrie achterberg was the perfect opportunity to test it out. had some ideas for these two a while back and finally pieced together their dynamic later in the war. there’s plenty of time to talk about their earlier dynamic but for now….enjoy these two and a look into their history together :) enjoy! ....oh and if you're a Sunshine Soldier fan (my first BoB fic), from ages ago, there's a treat for you stuffed in here!
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Pleasure seeing you ladies here."
Carrie glanced up from her rather in-depth conversation with Paulina and Bessie and found James Douglass, leaned up against the chair in front of them, across the table, a wide smile on his face, as he glanced at their faces and then settled on Carrie.
James Douglass - to which she had annoyingly started calling him Dougie, like the others - was never one to entertain nor hold onto something far longer than needed. However, when it came to her and, particularly, teasing her, he held onto that like a rope tied around his finger. He never let go.
"To what do I have the displeasure of seeing you," Carrie said looking up at him with a wry grin, to which he raised a brow at, "c'mon, let me have it. What is it? You need shoeshine for those things you call boots. You need me to go and kiss-up because you said something you shouldn't have. No wait - I got it. You managed to wake up late and missed breakfast, and need me to smooze you into getting coffee." The tables around them grew slightly quiet, a few heads turning; Paulina stuck to staring between the two, a bunch of scrambled eggs in her mouth, Bessie taking the opportunity to loudly sip on her coffee that was growing cold. Dougie sent her a look with his eyes and then looked at Paulina swiftly.
"Lieutenant Bradshaw said something about a fuse in Silver Bullets blowing," he offered, before dropping his voice, "right near the radio." Paulina's fork dropped and she launched up out the chair and darted away, calling over her shoulder through the loud lunch room, half-chewing, half-attempting to speak.
"I'll be back!" she called, wiping at her mouth, "James Douglass I'll have your head for this if you're joking around with that no-good head of yours!" Carrie watched her disappear and then watched Dougie look at Bessie, who sat rather unfazed and slightly tuned out of the conversation. Carrie momentarily shut her eyes when she knew what was coming.
"Kidd's looking for ya. Said he had a few things to talk to you about, from the good Colonel himself." Dougie offered and she stared at him and raised a brow, before ceremoniously wiping her mouth and standing.
"I'll be back." she muttered, eyeing Dougie, before sending Carrie a look, to which she rolled her eyes. Which left Carrie with Dougie.
Good God.
She turned her eyes to look at him and then leaned against the table, lacing her fingers, offering a rather sarcastic smile instead of sweet.
Listen, she got along with James Douglass, the whole base did, but sometimes he sweet-talked her because he enjoyed it. And he knew how much he could get to her, even if it was just teasing. Bessie always teased Carrie back that it was because he was taking a liking to her.
Carrie Achterberg was absolutely not one to take to gossip like that and had promptly squashed that. He had joked with her like this since training - it was James Douglass for Chrissake - he did it because half the time, there was enough sadness on this base to fill up an ocean.
"What do you want?" she said, pointedly acknowledging how rather relaxed he was, and how drained she appeared.
"Does it always have to be something I want? What about you? What do you want?"
"For you to leave me alone, so I can enjoy breakfast. Without the fucking peanut gallery."
"That hurts me, Bergie."
"Don't call me that."
"What? A lil nickname never hurt anybody. Bessie calls you that." She raised a brow in his direction and he shook his head.
"Look, just, can you…I don't know, just do me a favor?" Carrie stared at him and raised her brow further.
"What?"
"Can you dance with me tonight? At the flying club?" Carrie stared at him, before shaking her head.
"No." Dougie sighed.
"C'mon, why not?" Carrie looked at him sharply and sent him a scowl.
"If I'm gonna dance with someone, they're going to want to actually dance with me. Not just do it because of some other girl." Carrie said quickly and inhaled more egg, "I know you've been eyeing up Charlotte Tarvers, so." Dougie blew a raspberry and waved her off.
"Nah, nah, she's….I think she's got some guy in the Airborne, I'm not....nah." Dougie said waving it off, "Really, it's just….you and I, ya know? And, look, listen, favors is a bad word anyway…." Carrie looked at him, her cheeks dotting red a bit and she shook her head.
"You're just doing it to try and get another girl to come and be all fluffy in your face. Newsflash, Dougie, I'm not taking part. Ask Margie or…or Judy! Judy would love to."
"If Benny DeMarco were here he would smash my face in for even dare touching Margie and I'd rather not become one with Captain Rosenthal's dark side so, respectively….I'll take my chances." Dougie said and then looked at her. Carrie grumbled under her breath and shook her head.
"Fine." she said, "But. You have to promise to make it worthwhile, alright? Give me a twirl, hold me agonizingly tight, but not too tight, 'kay? I might even do my hair."
"Do your hair? Oh, Bergie, that's an honor right there. I'm honored, truly."
"Buzz off, shithead. Not for you. For me." Carrie said and then bit into a piece of toast, "I don't know….maybe it'll get someone's attention." Dougie's face turned serious for a moment as Carrie enjoyed her toast and he seemed to recalibrate.
"Uh….what do ya mean?"
"I don't know…..some of the guys, you never notice how cute some of them are until you see 'em, ya know? In their Class A's, looking all put together….especially after some of those last few missions." she said, "Maybe they'll see us dancing and ask to butt in. We'll see." Dougie watched her, looking more confused by the minute, bringing a spark of laughter to Carrie's lips.
"But…..you and I, we're dancing. Together. And going. Together." Dougie said with a chuckle before shaking his head, "You can't……"
"Are you jealous, Dougie?" Carrie whispered quietly with a grin, smacking his shoulder, "You're cute when you're mad." Dougie watched her as she continued eating, frozen in place, without any sort of words.
"Don't give me that look, that's exactly how you sounded to me," she said, and raised a brow, "so….you promise, it's just gonna be you and I. No other extras, huh?"
"Promise." Dougie said quickly, "Shake on it." Carrie eyed him, but then met his grasp and shook on it, before going back to her toast and enjoying savoring the taste.
"Who's the jealous one now?" Dougie whispered quietly to her from across the table, sending the blonde a smirk and a wink, who offered nothing but a glare, "C'mon, just saying. Sounds like you want me all to yourself." Carrie looked at him and then placed down the toast and met his gaze.
"I'm doing this for no one but myself. Not you." she said. Dougie rolled his eyes and then leaned across the table and dropped his voice, lowly.
"No other extras, huh?" he whispered, "Afraid someone's gonna steal me away?" Carrie slowly looked to his face, her eyes unmistakably drifting across his face for a moment before looking back at his eyes.
"Who says I'm afraid? You're the one inviting me." she whispered back quietly, watching that stupid smirk grow on his lips - a challenge. She seemed to have caught Dougie in a crossfire as he chuckled to himself and then leaned back in his chair and laid an arm over the empty seat next to him.
"If anything, you should be afraid someone's gonna steal me away. I've met plenty of those gentlemen to know they'd take any chance they could." Carrie said, her cheeks flaming at the way he watched her, making her collar hot and her cheeks red, "Why didn't you just ask Paulina? Or Bessie?" Dougie sent her a look and crossed his arms.
"There's a reason I'm asking you and not them, sweetheart." he said and she felt her face dip darker in color, to which she picked up her toast and took an angry bite out of it, trying to ignore that look on his face, to which she was almost enjoying. Knowing he was getting under her skin, and she was liking it. She swallowed her toast and then looked at him, schooling her features evenly.
"Enlighten me. What are you trying to say?" Carrie said, staring at him with a cool expression. A bold question to pose, in her opinion. Like bait for a fish. He watched her and licked his lips, suddenly under the spotlight and met her gaze again, fully.
"I want to dance." Dougie said, a nod, like convincing himself this was right, "With you." Carrie's eyes moved to his quickly. He stared right back at her, holding her gaze tensely as she reached for her coffee cup.
There was something in his gaze that was different than before there. A longing, a want, an eagerness - something that made her stomach feel funny and her toes tingle.
Why, she wondered in her mind. There were a bunch of other wonderful ladies he could dance with that he would have a far better time both dancing and conversing with - people that were pleasant and friendly and happy. People that weren't like her. She looked to him again and watched as he leaned forward and shook his head.
"Listen, Bergie, I'm sorry," he said quickly, waving his hands in front of himself, "it was too forward, I get it. You got a lot of shit going on back home, you don't want-"
"No." Carrie said, stopping him mid-sentence, his eyes flashing to hers as she sat there, cheeks turning red again as she tried to stop it. She shook her head and balled up her fists and fixed her shoulders.
"It's not that." she managed out in a stammering pace, shaking her head. The two watched each other - him, waiting on her to open her mouth, and her, waiting for her mind to connect with her mouth to speak. But it didn't happen.
"What's going on, Bergie?" Dougie asked quietly, noticing as she looked at him, trying to gather what thoughts were left in her mind.
All she could think of was the casualty list - the way it grew, larger and larger. The amount of planes that had gone up and never come down. The amount of men they'd lost, the people that were gone never to return. The families that would never get their sons and daughters back.
"James." she said quickly, and he looked at her in earnest, "I….." He stared at her, the most serious she'd ever seen a look appear on his face.
"This is…." she couldn't get her words right, the puddle of her mind overwhelming. She couldn't look at him and speak what she actually wanted to say. It was too real. All of these. These feelings, what was going on around them. This war.
"Did something happen?" he asked quickly, "Listen, I just joke with you, no hard feelings, just-"
"I'll dance with you." she said quickly, "Tonight. Just-" she stood quickly with her half-finished cup of coffee, looking down at her pants rather than him, "-just….I'll see you there." She took her plate and then spun away, moving around the edge of the table, her eyes on the door.
"Wait, wait, Bergie-" Dougie said, jumping to his feet, and lightly placing a hand on her elbow. She turned to look up at him, catching him in the haze of late morning light and watched as his eyes softened, only seen by her, his eyes lingering on parts of her face she hated to show a soul, his body heat penetrating her own with how close he seemed to be.
"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, dropping his voice, "I mean, you don't have to dance with me. I just…..we never have and I figured I owed ya-"
"I'm fine." she managed quickly, "No, we'll….we'll dance. It's fine. I'm fine." She offered a smile his way and he watched her, regarding her face quietly.
"I didn't ask you because there's another girl or to have a laugh, none of that, that's a shit thing to do, alright?" he said quietly, "I asked you because I want to dance with you. You, Bergie." She stared at him, her eyes flicking back and forth, over and over. The longer she stared at him, the more her heart began to race and the blood rushed to her cheeks.
"What I'm trying to say is that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I finally have the opportunity to dance. With you." Dougie said quickly, his ears and upper cheeks turning red, even though he seemed to try to hide it. Between both their faces and the redness of their cheeks, it was quite a sight for any onlooker or eavesdropper. She stared at him.
"I almost did. Back in Greenland. You definitely didn't want anything to do with me, but I almost did it." he said, a nervous smile on his face, "Figured you were pissed with me. So I didn't. As usual." She continued to watch him - him, rambling, her, staring. After a few moments of silence that lingered between them, she blinked.
"I'm always pissed with you." she said, but she said it in a way that was both factual and sarcastic and got a smile going on Dougie's face.
"Well, I know that," he said, "figured you wouldn't want to dance with the guy you're pissed off at. I don't know, as I go to twirl you, you'd probably try to push me into a wall or something."
Carrie stared at him - she'd let him twirl her into his chest and more, hold her close to his chest, in his broad, warm arms, tell her it was okay, that this was okay, that this was allowed, that she could feel this. She stared at him, her heart racing. And he stared back, that deep look in his eye that was enough to make her lose it.
"Keep looking at me like that and you'll get more than you bargained for." she whispered softly and then offered him a small, smirking grin, and walked away, her cheeks and ears burning.
If she looked back, she'd get that look that she knew was on his face, forever implanted in her mind and she couldn't have that yet. Not now.
As she placed away the plate and took one last sip of her coffee, she moved towards the door with her arms crossed and glanced over her shoulder just as she stepped out and looked to where Dougie was, stood still, hands in his pockets, watching her like something holy had just appeared right in front of him. She winked.
#masters of the air#mota#mota writings#silver bullets#carrie achterberg#james douglass#carrie x dougie#james douglass x oc#DOUGIEEE!!!!#these two were fun to write i wont lie hehe#and i have so many more ideas for them too so !!!!! :)#dougie was fun to write too lmfao hes chaotic and its fun LOL#THEM !!!!#also carrie in her feels and she tries to hide it but with dougie she lets it down a bit now - i will go and sob#also: charlotte tarvers mention !!!!#ENJOY!!!!!
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Waiting for the world to start again
#zero escape#zero escape spoilers#akane kurashiki#999#vlr#AAAUGHHHHHHHHHH <- me sobbing a crying I have missed drawing her so so so so much#she is everything to me o(-<#feels weird putting song lyrics caption on smth that's just a fun sketch but. it is necessary#this is like the most self indulgent art to me lmfao#finally got 1 second of free time for myself after submitting my uni assessment#even tho i have an essay to write i thought I'd take the evening off 💆♀️#nnrart
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cw: talks of having kids
Bakugou lays sprawled out on your bed as you flitter around the room, moving from your closet to your dresser and back in a hurry of movements. You’re doing a bit of spring cleaning (yes, even in the winter), and Bakugou decided to come over and help, even though he’s just been laying around the whole time.
He had a rough patrol yesterday, even sports a few bruises on his ribs, so you let him take it easy, throwing him one of your old pink scarf hat combos with the little bunny ears on top. You don’t expect him to wear it, but the image of him laying against your bed with the floppy ears on top of his head makes you smile anyway.
You go back to your drawer, pulling everything out in order to throw some stuff away and reorganize the remaining things. At the bottom of the drawer though, do you find some old clothes when you were a baby. It’s been here for years now, after your parents gifted them to you, just in case you’d wanna use them for your future kids. It’s just collecting dust in the bottom of your drawer though, honestly, and you pull the tiny little purple and white checkered onesie out, examining it and the little bonnet underneath with a small frown.
“Who the hell is that for? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t fitting your big ass head.” You hear Bakugou call from your bed, your head whipping around to face him and his cheesy little grin. You narrow your eyes and poke your tongue out at him, throwing him the little combo as you turn to get the rest of the baby clothes out.
“Says the one whose head almost tore his mothers cooter in half during birth.” Thank you Mistuki for the information, you think to yourself, smiling an evil little smile that Bakugou frowns softly at.
“And it’s my old baby clothes. My folks gave it to me when I moved out, said I could use it for my own future gremlins.” You smile when you pick up the little yellow booties in your dresser, another little bonnet with a tie underneath the chin, and a pair of shorts that were entirely too cute and tiny. “Think I’m gonna throw it out, though.”
“Why would you do that?” Bakugou asks quietly, suddenly behind you, his chest against your back as he gently plucks the shorts from your hands to examine them closer. You look at him from over your shoulder, at the soft look that falls on his face, how his rough thumb rubs over the still soft material in his hands, how his eyebrows lose their crease and his mouth tilts up just so in the corners.
“We’re not having kids any time soon,” you say, your voice tacking on a silent ‘right?’ at the end of it. Bakugou doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he blinks down at you, looking so ridiculously cute in your pink hat, holding your baby clothes. You hand him the booties in his other hand and he takes them, so gentle, with such care, it makes your stomach do somersaults.
“Maybe we should talk more about that.” He whispers softly, looking at you from under his lashes, his garnet eyes searching your own. You nod though, stroking gently at the shorts he still holds with tender care, a smile tugging at your lips.
“Yeah,” you mutter, leaning up to press your mouth against his own. “Maybe we should.”
#could u tell that i was deep cleaning in the winter and found some old baby clothes in a drawer lol#this is so specific leave me alone#but also the imagery of Bakugou wearing the clothes you’re throwing out for the fun of it :(#puts on your too small mittens and brightly colored hats and even tries on your old sweaters just to hear you laugh when he can’t fit it#over his big ass head and arms#I’m gonna sob such an ugly sob#okay I’m done I just love him so much#so many grand emotions#wait i think I’m gonna write something for touya tonight too gimme a minute 🏃♂️#before this sleep medicine knocks me out cold on my ass#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#bakugou treats! 🍬
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I know most of our focus goes (rightfully) to the trial songs, but I genuinely believe Baptism of Fire is equally a masterpiece of meaningful writing and intense vocal acting
Incoming tag rant because I need to yell about this, feel free to yell back
#milgram#fuuta kajiyama#like the other vds have good writing about the character and whatever social issue their crime focuses on#but this one is very pointedly about YOU#its about the audience. its about the milgram project. its about self reflection. its about self-appointed roles. its about you#even if you didnt vote t1 or anything the whole things is calling on you to reflect on your own judgements of others#how you treat people who come off rougher. how you treat people who have made a (bad but) common mistake.#do you also find entertainment in seeing people dragged down and suffering because it would 'serve them right?'#but es always remains in control of the situation. the drama doesnt end with 'and fuuta was right - you guys suck!'#its clarified that situations are different and have nuance. we are reminded to look at things with nuance.#then we are smoothly re-immersed in the story#and then!! the acting itself!!!#arthur lounsbery put his whole fussy into that performance (<- fuuta pussy) and i am in his debt every day for it#in both his vds hes just super expressive and fun to listen to#i dont understand japanese but he packs so much interesting intonation and emotion into every word -- im obsessed listening to him#he nails all the subtle emotions fuuta has: the pouts and outrage as well as underlying fear grief insecurity and immaturity#and then baptism of fire hes just... Wailing#like mahiru has her innocent and pathetic cries of pain in her sweet voice that works for her character but fuutas pain feels much more raw#the way hes practically sobbing at the end -- his voice cracking and screeching throughout -- the whimper of pain#its so unbearably intense!! it hurts!! and its supposed to!! but hes just so raw with it#and dont even get me started on his pained hysteric laughter omg....#its just. a masterpiece.#i always appreciate the vds but i dont think ive enjoyed/relistened to one as much as this one#okay WAIT im back to add one more thing because im obsessed with ths idea of intentions#specifically in milgram i think the intention behind the murders are very important to consider#so i love love love the huge focus on 'i didnt expect/mean for this to happen'#plus as a general theme in fiction i think its sooo juicy when good intentions get fucked up#so i loved the repetition of that#fuuta is such a special case because he genuinely had no desire or expectation for his victim to die#(maybe kazui too? but he doesn't say so in his vd like fuuta does)
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𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳-𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴
#rolling with difficulty#vrla rwd#mrsn rwd#rwd starship#shoutout to fall out boy for writing lyrics that absolutely slap with no context i guess#get it. do you get it. cuz mechanites don't dream (starts sobbing)#something something the least mrsn could ask for is for vrla to remember him fondly and he can't even do that bc all his memories are gone#also yes it's a stylistic choice to draw mrsn as the starry apparition here but it's also absolutely bc the apparition is easier to draw#ITS SO FUN. i just do a white outline with a little gaussian blur then go to town on the starry background#between the astral sea and the mrsn ghost i just keep having to draw that kinda starry background and i have lots of custom brushes for it#and it's just. so much fun. just slapping colours and shinies on the canvas like a small child#the original idea i had in my head was significantly less... close contact but then i looked up couples dancing pose refs on pinterest#and got the fucking gayest reference image ever so here we are#WALAO TUMBLR MOBILE FUCKED UP THE RESOLUTION AGAIN NABEI#art I made
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WE ARE GETTING THERE ‼️‼️
Ghoap dancing Ghoap dancing Ghoap dancing -
#im sleepy now though#sobs#GHOAP DANCING CAN SAVE MEEE#thankfully i think this chapter will be around or under 5k im having so much fun so far#the cutest moment incoming m8#talking about my wips#my writing#if you see a mistake pretend you did not pls it's the first draft 💀#ghostsoap
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Close Quarters (Gen/Shin, CynoNari)
Hi um. Me after posting late to my own event. nyways this is for @hachiibun !!!!! thank you So much for your patience i hope you like this. I tried to go insp from some art you've posted so i hope its to ur liking!!!!
Cyno was familiar with Tighnari’s nose. Sensitive and easily set off, it wasn’t uncommon to witness one of his fits if you spent a day with him. His ears would twitch and flick, tail swishing with agitation, nose scrunched up against a wrist until he finally succumbed. His awareness is what led to the sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched the other.
The two were cramped together in a small inlet, waiting for the moment to strike against a large group of enemies. They crouched side-by-side, shoulders pressed together. Cyno quietly observed, watching the furrow in Tighnari's brows, the flick of his tail, watching him scrub a gloved hand against his nose. The two locked eyes, Tighnari’s eyes red-rimmed and watery with unshed allergic tears. He worried his bottom lip against his teeth, sending a message they both knew. Tighnari needed to sneeze, and there was very little he could do to stop it.
The specks of pollen coating every surface was the clear culprit. While neither of them were allergic, it was nearly impossible to not feel itchy with the sheer amount of it. Even Cyno, prideful of his own control, had to resist the urge to rub his irritated eyes. Tighnari, however, was fighting a losing battle. He aggressively pawed at his nose, leaving it red and angry looking. They both knew his sneezes could never go unnoticed- Tighnari’s fits were pitchy and desperate, demanding attention whether he wanted it or not.
Cyno adjusts, freeing a hand, prepared to help if needed. Sure enough, Tighnari’s slow, controlled breath snagged, entering a desperate cresendo as he fought against the itch, battle quickly lost. Cyno watches as he crushes the release against his glove, knowing the control will not last. Tighnari’s nose is never satisfied with just one, and a wet sniffle and the crinkle in his nose confirms his theory. He gives cyno a watery look, warning him of what he already knows.
He slowly manevours around so that he's facing tighnari, ignoring his quiet hiss of “what are you doing?!” then, he brings up his hands, gently presses tighnari against his body, and locks eyes with him. Tighnari nods, breath already stuttering. Cyno can almost feel the tickle, watching his nose wrinkle as he brings up another glove to scrub at it. His breath takes on an almost desperate whine, and he buries himself into Cyno’s shoulder
As it came to a peak, Cynos hands wrapped around hjs head, pressing him further into him. The fabric against his nose set him over the edge, as he tries desperately to silence the much-needed release.
“h’NGT! h-N’’gXT-h’NdT’iew-! hhI- hN’GT-hH’NDGT-ieww!” Tighnari panted against the rapid releases, and Cyno felt a dampness in his shoulder. “Done?” he whispered, knowing Tighnari’s sensitive ears would pick it up. Tighnari lets out another whine-like breath, hitching and stuttering. “I don’Hht-! Don’t know how many more I.. nGHT-! snF! Can hold back..” he mutters, congestion clear in his voice.
Cyno presses his hands against the back of Tighnari’s head and presses him further against him. “Let them out. It’ll be okay.”
Tighnari opens his mouth to object, but with his loss of focus, the need for release overcomes him. He buries himself in the crook of Cyno’s neck, each sneeze more desperate and itchy sounding than the last.
“hIH-iSHhiew-iShh-i’tSCh’iew-! hAh.. hiDT’sCHh’u! a’TSCHh-sCHh’ieww-! n’GTCh-! iSCHh’u!” Tighnari gasps for breath against Cyno as he watches their targets warily pack up their camp and leave, made nervous by the sudden activity. He releases a deep breath, but there’s no use in being angry. It was an unavoidable outcome. He releases his grip on his companion, trying to plan a next move as he listens to Tighnari’s wet sniffles as he attempts to clean himself up.
“I’m sorry, Cyno.” He says after a few moments, voice thick and raspy from strain. Cyno shakes his head in response. “It was bound to happen. I’m sure they’ll return.” He stands, dusting the dirt from his clothes, and offers a hand to Tighnari, who takes it after another itchy sneeze aimed into his shoulder. “You need to go home and wash the pollen off.”
#snz stuff#snz#ive had this done for a few days but ive been forgetting to post it sobbing#ok so i'm really sorry this is so late life has genuinelly been SO hetic lately. its a little better rn but not much#i want to post more fics but im so busy and when i have time its just. relaxing for once alas#anyways i hope you like this!!! i had fun writing it lol ive never done a scenario like this even though its a snzblr classic LOL#posting this and then running off for a while because i am in the middle of getting stuff done#dont like that getting this posted was more of crossing smth else off my checklist tonight than being like omgg im gonna post this bc i thi#k its good but alas..... tis life
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Baked
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie has good intentions...just bad execution.
Word Count: 2k+
Warnings: Mentions of period & period symptoms. Drug use (marijuana).
You’ve been together long enough that Eddie knows — more or less — when it’s that time of the month. He hadn’t marked it on the calendar or anything because he’d been too worried you’d think that was a little creepy. But he has definitely made a mental note of it. Even if he hadn’t, there are sure signs to let him know when it’s imminent and warn him to prepare for what’s to come.
The first indication is the increase in your appetite, something he combats by tossing a few extra snacks in the cart during his shopping trip. Then there’s the excessive naps. He often finds you snuggled up in your favorite fuzzy blanket, asleep on the couch like a sweet little kitten; sometimes you’ll burrow into his side or ask to rest your head on his chest, then outright refuse to let go of him and the unusual neediness is just another sign. Most notably though, the over-abundance of sensitivity — both physical and emotional.
So when Eddie finds you standing alone in front of the television, in tears over a documentary about cows, he knows exactly what is happening. And he’d been ready for it. The red sun, as he describes it, will soon be rising.
Eddie gathers you into his arms, lovingly sweeping away the salty moisture that stains your cheeks. His fingers hook your chin and he forces your shiny eyes to meet his, his heart clenching then immediately melting at the abundant sadness he finds there.
“What’s wrong, my angel?” he prods gently.
You sniffle and swallow thickly, knowing how silly Eddie is going to think you are.
“They took him away from his mom,” you hiccup, directing Eddie’s attention to the little black and white calf splashed across the television screen. “He’s only a baby.”
He tries not to laugh at your over-the-top blubbering, he knows better than to poke fun at you when you’re like this. Instead, he hugs you closer and rests his chin on top of your head; joining you in watching the program while the distressed cries of the baby cow spill from the speakers as a farmer marks his floppy ear with a numbered tag and sends him on his way.
“Aw…look,” Eddie coos as he rubs your back in soothing circles. “He’s back with his mama now, see? Look how happy he is!”
Extracting your arm from between your body and Eddie’s, you reach up to scrub your sleeve across your wet cheek. The calf frolics happily around his mother as she grazes, but that doesn’t seem to stop the flow of tears. You make a sound — half sob, half laugh — and Eddie pulls away to observe your swollen, dripping eyes.
“Now what is it?” he wonders, his amused chuckle edged slightly with concern as your face crumples.
“He’s just so cute!”
Eddie cups your head and pulls you into his chest, shushing you quietly as he rocks back and forth. You cry into his chest, unable to control your irrational response to the adorable little bovine. When you mumble an apology to Eddie for how ridiculous you feel, he only reassures you, as is his way.
“Oh, honey,” he tsks. “You’re not ridiculous at all. My girl’s just a little sensitive is all.”
He knows why you’re so sensitive, but he’d never directly acknowledge it. Seeing as he’s a man, Eddie isn’t quite sure it’s his place to bring it up; he’d hate to offend or embarrass you. Regardless, he has his subtle ways of accommodating you. If you’ve ever noticed his amplified tenderness, you’ve yet to let on. Maybe you know and maybe you don’t; either way, Eddie is more than happy for any opportunity to take extra special care of you.
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stretch languidly beneath the overly warm sheets; one leg poking out from under the fabric in an attempt to cool your body somewhat. A sharp pain above your hip makes you wince and you’re reminded that you’ll need to stock up on tampons before this weekend. You yawn and sigh, feeling admittedly refreshed from the nap Eddie had insisted you take after this morning's episode. He’s always so sweet and doting, you have no idea what you’ve done to deserve him.
With your angelic boyfriend in mind, you drag your pliant body from your cozy bed and roll the tightness out of your shoulders before you set off in search of his company. You’ve only just stood up when suddenly you’re hit with an awful odor. The smell is acrid and pungent, undeniably familiar too, though you can’t quite put your finger on why you recognize it. When the ear-splitting chime of the smoke detector reaches your ears, your stomach drops and you race towards the door.
You whip the bedroom door open, instantly met with a smoggy, gray haze. The offensive scent is much stronger now, burning sharply in your nostrils.
“Eddie?!” you shriek, but his rapid footfalls are already on the move.
He’s coughing amid a slew of hissed and frenzied curses and you slowly make your way towards the kitchen, eyes squinted and face covered with the collar of your soft tee. You can barely make out his silhouette when you round the corner, peering through the smokey cloud to watch Eddie frantically waving an oven mitt around. He clears his way to the oven, slamming the controls with a beep so that it turns off.
“Open a window!” he calls to you.
You spring into action, striding to the nearest window and yanking it open. Grabbing a magazine from the scattered stack on the counter, you begin to waft the gathering smoke towards the window. Eddie joins you, utilizing his oven mitt to do the same.
When you’ve got the room somewhat clear, Eddie stands beneath the still-chirping alarm and jabs a long finger upwards to silence the annoyingly loud device. He crouches in front of the oven, eyeing it skeptically before carefully easing the door open. Almost immediately, a thick plume of nearly black smoke billows towards the ceiling and Eddie hacks violently as his arms wave wildly in front of his face.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he mutters to himself as he opens the oven door all the way, moving aside to let the smoke drift towards the open window.
With his discarded oven mitt back in hand, Eddie reaches in and extracts a square tray. He drops it with a clatter on the countertop, small columns of gray still rising from the contents within.
“What the hell is that?” you wonder, leaning around Eddie to get a better look at the blackened object.
“Well,” he begins with a sigh. “They were supposed to be brownies. But they ended up being blackies.”
You laugh, both at Eddie’s stupid joke and the perfectly disgruntled, defeated tone of his voice. He turns to face you then and you notice what he’s wearing. It becomes increasingly hard to take him seriously when you see the black apron tied around his neck, nothing else on his body save for a pair of dark red boxers. The lower portion is decorated with dancing flames and the middle boasts an image of four spectacularly-clad men with their faces painted in a variety of black and white patterns, standing above the orange and yellow gradient text that reads ‘KISS The Cook!’
Eddie studies your face carefully and you know precisely what he’s looking for. The shininess in your eyes or perhaps an imperceptible quiver in your lower lip. He thinks you’re going to be upset about the massacred brownies because he knows your hormones are a little crazy right now. No, he hadn’t admitted that he knows, but after the third month in a row of being served PMS brownies, you’d made the connection. Thankfully for Eddie, you’ve got yourself in check at the moment.
As you observe the brownies more closely, you cringe at the state of them. Eddie is so clearly disappointed and you had hoped perhaps you could reassure him and at least manage to eat some part of his brownies, but the charred tray of goo is indicating otherwise. The treat is utterly unsalvageable.
“What happened?” you ask, placing a supportive palm on the small of Eddie’s bare back.
He huffs and drags a hand through his messy curls, then places a fist on his cocked hip.
“I dunno,” he laments dramatically. “I set a timer and everything.”
While Eddie explains, you glance over your shoulder and look at the oven. Your lips twist into a wry smile. Sure, Eddie had set the timer; he just forgot to start it. The red digits blink almost tauntingly, the glowing ‘0:45’ seeming to ask ‘forgetting something?’ with each flash.
He whips the comical apron up and over his head, mussing up his already disheveled hair as he folds it over his arm and pouts weakly. You take note of Eddie’s glassy, reddened eyes and you suspect you may know just why he had forgotten to start the timer. He glances your way, suspicious of the accusatory way you raise your eyebrows at him. Your knowing smirk only seals the deal.
“Okay, so I smoked a bowl and burned your brownies,” he admits with exasperation, sassily crossing his arms across his tattooed chest. “I got distracted.”
Giggling loudly, you lean in and smack playfully at Eddie’s entwined arms. You drag your fingers over the flexing muscle in his left forearm, then wrap them around his wrist and pull his hand free to entwine his fingers with yours.
“Distracted by what exactly?”
The guilt that flashes in Eddie’s eyes is undeniable and adorably comedic all the same. His irises flick restlessly from side to side and he flounders, lips opening and closing as he debates whether or not to tell you. He begins to blush and glances down at the floor — or towards his feet, rather — and you find your answer without Eddie even giving it.
“Aw, shit,” Eddie laments, releasing your hand and childishly stomping his feet as the forgotten apron falls to the ground. “They’re ruined!”
He raises his leg, bent at the knee so he can grab his own foot and present it to you, offering you five purple-tipped toes. He drops the appendage then does the same with the other, showing you the remaining five toes; two void of color and three painted but regrettably smudged.
You recognize the lavender shade, the same one you’d used on your own nails last night. Evidently, you’d left the bottle of polish out and Eddie had gotten ahold of it. Clicking your tongue, your heart twists at Eddie’s forlorn expression; brown eyes like giant saucers and a frown so deep it’d make even the best clown envious.
“Wanted us to match,” Eddie utters churlishly.
He scooches closer to you, bracketing his much larger feet on either side of yours and wiggling his colorful toes.
“We can fix ‘em,” you offer.
Eddie lights up, his grin unimaginably wide. He clutches your upper arms in his long fingers and jostles you a bit in his excitement. You turn under the pressure of Eddie’s hands which spin you in the direction of the living room then proceed to march you forward ahead of him. He collapses into the carpet then drags you down with him.
Seated at his side, you watch Eddie shake the tiny bottle of polish with much more vigor than necessary. He twirls the cap and extracts the brush without wiping the excess off, you don’t even have a chance to advise him otherwise before Eddie has his foot propped up on the edge of the low coffee table, toes pointed skyward and his body curled over itself like a feral animal.
Eddie slathers the small nail with far too much polish and you have no doubt he’s likely to smudge it before it ever has a chance to dry. You admire his dogged determination; dark brows furrowed in concentration while the pink tip of his tongue peeks out between the prison of his plush lips. He makes several attempts to fix his previously smeared toenails before you step in and offer to help him. Eddie is quick to agree, promising to make you a consolation batch of brownies in return for the favor.
Joseph Quinn Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost
#another fic where eddie gets high and bakes for u and SO WHAT#a rare occurrence where i write something under 5k !!!#fun fact: the cow part is based on RL one time i knew my period was coming bc i sobbed over a video of a tiny cow#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader fanfiction#eddie munson x reader fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#joseph quinn#joseph quinn fanfiction#joseph quinn fanfic#joseph quinn x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic
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And here is the bull himself >:)
+ lore notes
I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!
New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)
I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.
Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.
Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."
Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.
They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.
#i love matador au all my homies love matador au#<- its a lot of fun for me to draw and easy to have ref for :) so its like my little comfort drawings#even tho i want to sob every time i write any of the lore down bcs it is so </3#ah i just like how visceral it is ig#f1 is a dangerous sport but bullfighting is just. such another level of maniacs 😭#ive talked abt this a lot w cofi lmao its just super interesting to me. just the whole mentality and display and culture of it#also just: trajes de luces go brrrrrrr#ah one day ill draw both of them in green suits 🤭🤭#i had a chibi art of this au i was working on bcs i didnt have mental energy for a full thing#or at least i THOUGHT so#ive had the refs for this since 2 wks and im like YOU WILL FINISH THIS bcs i rly liked the pose 😭#so then i just drew for like 5 hours straight. yknow as one does#and wrote this post at uh. 8 am. normal time for one to be drawing and writing. as one does.#WELL ANYWAYS PLEASE ENJOY MATADOR SEB#this au grips me the throat 😭 i rly enjoy it 😭#i have a lot of thoughts ab the au lore itself but also drawing these is very no thoughts head empty <3#also god side note. pink stockinks. i hated the idea of them at first. but now im like hehe hot pink time 🥰🥰#its crazy how it doesnt clash that much??? i thought it would ruin the outfit but ah they suit everything p well#f1#formula 1#sebastian vettel#catie.art.#matador au
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I'm very excited for more content of your lights out au, I'm so eager to see just how good you can get at writing/creating angst!
oh babey. thats where i Shine.
#i have gotten many a fic comment where people curse me out and/or say that they cried#sometimes i get someone saying i made them sob#its a compliment every time and i strive for it!#i dont fuck around with my fics i Do Not Hold Back and that is a Warning#this is the only aspect of my creations that im confident in#and hopefully soon you'll all See! you will see.#just a little taste its nothing too intense really.#id label it more hurt/comfort than straight up angst#but yeah if people arent crying im doing it wrong#i rarely do it wrong.#JESTING JESTING im not That good. now im just exaggerating for a Humorous Touch#rambles from the bog#i might. miiiiiight. might might might maybe mayhaps might#write a certain scene from lights out that everyone already knows will happen#so... might as well dust off my hurt / no comfort skills#could be fun. i want to hurt people again#in a good safe 'you Chose to read this' way#theres a certain feeling that comes with being someone who enjoys writing angst#the happiness i get from people telling me my writing hurt them. Yes <3#so so validating. so fulfilling.#just read through some old fic comments on my better works and mmmmm talk about an ego boost....
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tell me our story
dnf fic, 2k, one shot, rated m [established relationship, fluff, talk of the future and children]
George closes the door softly and leans back against the soundproof padding. Upbeat tones fill the air, resembling the beat he’d felt earlier, and Dream’s recorded voice follows.
It’s twenty-thirty-six, I’ll probably have some kids, I’ll teach them not to do the same stupid shit I did …
George stops breathing.
[Or, George hears Dream's new lyrics and it starts a conversation they were both longing for.]
#HI :) dream shared song snippets about wanting children in the future n i cried and then this happened#half of this was written in a sleep deprived stupor until 4am n the rest this morning when i woke up at 1pm nobody look at me#dnf :( having kids :( imagine that conversation buh i'll go sob again ........#i hope whoever reads this enjoys :) it was so fun to write !!#my writing#dnf#dnf fics#dreamnotfound
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home is an anchor
(a/n): annie x brady girlies we're back with another piece where we finally dig a bit into annie's background; was trying to go for a bit more light-hearted again, but instead...it got a little bit sad at parts, so don't mind that. between listening to sad taylor swift songs + hard school week, just needed to put emotions somewhere and here we are :) sometimes we all need a little comfort that feels just like home......
Her mother wasn't really the best at playing the 'mother-role' but she had tried her best, especially with the amount of siblings running around.
Her father had been away in a local mechanic garage, working his hardest to earn what money he could for his family and her older brother, Roy, at the peak age of 16 was going to the mill everyday to earn some extra cash, as Annie and the rest of her younger siblings had done chores around the house, cleaning, washing, scrubbing, keeping the farm running the best they could.
And Annie, being the second oldest, just under Roy, who was always away, the stress and weight of everything seemed to fall right on her shoulders. And the nights her father was working until 2 in the morning, and the stress was far too much for her mother, who went and would drink the night away with what she could scrounge, Annie would take care of her other siblings - and when Roy would get back just after dinner, he'd help out the best he could.
They'd work side by side, feeding, cleaning, locking up the house at night, getting their 5 younger siblings into beds, washed and clean and ready for sleep without a worry in the world. Annie would forget about herself, usually taking whatever was left after everyone had eaten, usually the last to sleep or she'd stay up and wait for her father to get home so that'd he'd be taken care of. The Depression had been the hardest - not just weeks or months like that, but years. Years of that, day in and day out.
So, being here at Thorpe Abbotts - it was like it was telling her that had all been worth it.
She was currently cramped in one of the chairs in the officers' club chairs by the crackling fire, listening to the patter of rain somewhere above her, half in-and-out of sleep as she curled into herself, trying to catch up on sleep that she had missed the previous night. They'd been up so early for today's mission that the tossing and turning of her sleep had done nothing but make her run on only about an hour of sleep by that point.
Annie felt something drape over her body, instantly becoming warmer and she cracked an eye open and saw that it was Brady who had laid the blanket, who was moving himself over towards the chair opposite the table that was at her side, settling down with undoubtedly a cup of something that would take off the edge.
The blanket was warm and instantly made her a bit more exhausted than she had been previously; she shifted around a bit and then cracked open her eyes more and turned her head towards Brady, squinting at him and yawning.
"Thanks." she said through her yawn, slowly sitting up, her hair a bit wet from coming out of Silver Bullets in a torrential downpour, the chill of the evening rolling in, as she rubbed at her hands and scrambled to pull the blanket up and over her body a bit more, "Didn't think I was this tired." Brady watched her for a moment, a small laugh from his lips as he sipped his drink.
"You looked cold, and with this rain," he looked at the ceiling, "nothing a bit of a blanket can't fix."
"Yeah," Annie said quietly, cuddling the blanket up over her body a bit more, "I appreciate it." She met Brady's gentle, doe eyes and he continued smiling at her, the soft glisten of the fire dancing in his eyes as he watched her right back.
Annie lazily stared at the golden hues, her eyes becoming entranced by the flicker of the flame in front of her, enjoying the hum of the heat of the orange and yellow licks of fire in front of her, the slight chatter behind her of pilots and bartenders, the patter of the rain above them; the overall general comfort that at the minute, no one was asking for her. All she needed to do was sit here, warm up and rest.
"Gotten any news back home from your family?" Brady asked her quietly, looking towards her with an almost innocent gaze, "Some of the guys have started getting mail again, and I figured…." Annie slowly slid her eyes towards him and nodded.
"Yeah." she said, "A letter. From my father." Something in Brady's face changed.
"Everything okay?" he asked her, a slight edge to his voice that wasn't there before.
"Mom's not doing well," Annie said, but quickly recovered herself, "hasn't been for a while so." Brady slowly leaned forward in his seat, catching her gaze and a bit of guilt seeped into her stomach, just seeing that look on his face. Worry. Concern. She didn't want someone to have to worry and bother themselves over her for something she herself couldn't even control. Especially people who were already stressed beyond compare.
"Annie…."
"It's okay, really," Annie said with a nod, her eyes traveling back to the fire, "she's actually the one that didn't want me even coming here. Said she needed hands back at the farm, she couldn't do much anymore….I told her no. That I wanted to do this. And now….." Annie stared at the fire and let out a shaky sigh and nodded, before glancing back over at Brady and finding him, worry lines drawn across his face, eyes saddened, expression deep in thought.
"It's complicated." Annie said, a small laugh escaping her lips, but she felt her body constrain at the end of her attempt of covering laughter, "Sorry."
"No, no, don't apologize," Brady said, watching her gaze again as she held his, "I'm sorry, Annie." Annie watched him, their gazes a whole other level of complexity Annie had no time to dig into at this very moment, and she smiled.
"Thanks, John." she said quietly and he nodded. Then, before he could look away, she looked down at the fire and let out a small breath. She wasn't looking at him, but she could tell he wanted to say something; the air wasn't cleared, there was clearly something still on the edge of his tongue and the longer they sat in that tense silence, the more she wanted to hear him say it. Whatever it happened to be.
Annie thought back to those times - her mother drinking, father stressed out of his mind, all those kids, Roy barely afloat, Annie feeling like a single mother at 15 when she shouldn't have even been in that position in the first place. She had just done as she was told, to survive, to breathe a bit. She thought it had been the right thing and it had, but the guilt never left her. Leaving her family like that, thinking it was okay. She knew that she was an adult and had every right to do what she did, to live a bit more, fight against this war, but sometimes it ate her alive. Knowing her mother was dying and she was here. Annie hadn't realized her eyes had begun to fill with tears until one was itching down her cheek.
"Hey, Annie, you okay?" Brady asked quietly, leaning forward, his drink forgotten about along with the world. Annie looked to him and nodded, reaching up to wipe at her eyes and get rid of the tears as fast as she could - it was embarrassing, alright? To be getting so upset over this, in front of Brady, in their current situation. There were a lot more worse-off situations than hers.
"I'm okay," Annie said, "all good." Brady slowly stood and kneeled beside her chair and watched her face - God, he was pretty tall wasn't he. Kneeling beside her, he leaned a hand on the chair back that snaked an arm around the one side of her form - and he watched her face, trying to dissect the problem and fix it, seemingly as fast as he could.
"I'm sorry about your mom, Annie," he whispered, her eyes looking to his like some sort of forbidden safe haven - because it'd never leave her - even when her mother did eventually die, and this war was over. It would never go away. But she could try and bury it.
"Thanks, John," she whispered, "I didn't mean to turn into a sap. Especially here, goddamn." Annie briefly, angrily, reached up and wiped at some tears.
"It's stupid anyway."
"No it's not," Brady breathed out quietly, catching her eyes again, and offering a small smile that made her heart warm, "things like that, especially dealing with family. It's not stupid, I can promise you. Despite whatever's going on." Annie held his gaze.
"It's not stupid to me." he said softer this time, "Especially when it's you." Annie stared at him, the tears in her eyes making his face a slightly blurred Picasso painting and she managed a watery smile his way.
"I just hate the feeling, ya know?" Annie said quietly, "Feeling guilty, but knowing you can't do anything. Like, I know I can't do a thing, I did what I could, we turned out our separate ways, but I still feel like that scared little girl. To her. To me."
"Hey," Brady said quietly, reaching up to wipe at the tear that squeaked out from her eye, before resting a hand on her arm through the blanket, "don't worry yourself thin at the minute. You said it yourself. You can only do what you can right now. Especially half-way across the world. You just did a helluva bombing run, okay? You're doing your best, Annie. It's admirable." And when Brady uttered little things like that to her, she believed them like a prayer verse in the family Bible in her father's bedside. She believed it like it were something she'd whisper to herself every night. She believed it because it had fallen from Brady's lips.
"Here," Brady said, getting to his feet and standing in front of her - floppy hair in his eyes, A-2 jacket having seen better days, tie that she felt the urge to fix - and holding out a hand. Annie stared at him, raising a brow his way, and chuckling a slightly wet laugh from the tears that were slowly disappearing.
"What are you doing?" she managed out quietly, with a laugh.
"Just trust me." he said with a lopsided smirk, that seemed to light up his eyes in a way that made her insides twist. Annie laughed quietly, but shifted off the blanket, which had been delightfully warm now that it was removed from her now cold form and took his hand - warm, much larger than her own it practically encased it, and inviting. Comforting. A touch that lingered.
He took her other hand and she stared at him. There hadn't been really any times previous they'd been like this. They'd danced together once - one of those big-band upbeat songs that had her off her feet and twirling in his arms. But she'd done that with Bucky, who'd nearly twirled her into a table. This felt different though. The way his hands held her own, the way he was watching her, the way this felt.
"What's going on?" she whispered sneakily with a chuckle. Brady, smirking again that brooding and rather charming grin, pulled her closer to him and placed a hand on her hip, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her own jacket and the fleece underneath, his other hand holding her own against his shoulder like something holy. And he watched her, just inches above her and smiled.
"Ahhh." Annie whispered quietly, with a small laugh, "I'll admit, I have two left feet when it comes to this." Brady watched her, his eyes so big and whole and staring only at her; it made her want to shrink into him for some reason.
"I saw you dancing with Bucky that one time," he whispered, his voice gentle on her ears, "you have anything but." Her cheeks flamed a bit at the thought - he'd seen that? Annie laughed lightly, catching herself as she looked to his bright eyes again. He leaned his head forward to her ear.
"I didn't realize you had freckles," he whispered, before his small chuckle seemed to fill in her ears, "they're cute." Annie's face must've been on fire as a laugh left her lips and she curled her head to the side in between his neck and collarbone - he smelled sweet, almost like honey, and in some weird way, it reminded her of home.
"You're such a tease, John Brady," she whispered against his neck, his grip tightening on her hip as he pulled her closer to his form, "but thank you." He chuckled.
For a moment, they both grew quiet, these sweet nothings between them lingering and as tender as a light touch, their bodies swaying back and forth like a wave lapping gently on the shoreline. Annie closed her eyes, inviting the touch from him all over her body - her face pressed on his neckline, his hand on her hip and lingering on her hand, holding it softly, his face somewhere in her hair and near her ear, her body pressed against his chest, holding on like he were an anchor of some sort. A grounding one at that.
"No one's ever told me that." Annie whispered against his neck, her breath warm.
"What?" Brady whispered back into her ear - his voice seemingly always doing something to her no matter what.
"About my freckles." Annie said softly, no one's ever been this close. She heard Brady's little laugh in her ear and smiled.
"Honored to be the first." Brady said, though his words sort of hung out in the air like a tree branch in fall. Maybe you'll be the last, Annie thought, but jumping to thoughts like that right now was something she buried deep inside her.
"I think a part of me will always be attached to the idea of what my life was when I was younger, when Mom was better," Annie whispered, and Brady seemed to tense under her fingertips, "but, I won't lie, right now all I can think about is…." she trailed off in a manner she hadn't intended and could feel him waiting for her to finish her answer. Instead, she pulled back slightly and looked up at him and managed a small smile. He watched her, eyes glowing, on her.
"Right now all you can think about is…." Brady started quietly, expectantly waiting for an answer. Annie felt herself go red again, a deeper crimson than before and found that when he was suddenly very intently watching her like this, all she could do was smile.
"Annie." Quickly turning her head from Brady, her walls suddenly going back up unexpectedly, she found Francis coming towards them and let her walls crumble again as the woman approach with a small smile on her face.
"Listen, I hate to break this up, but Harding's been asking for you. Needs an opinion on….something or other, says there's some new crews joining us. Primeblue? I don't know, something like that - lead pilot did some runs in Africa, name's Matilda Kerkering. Got a crew, too. Like a mini-you." Francis rambled on, and then caught Annie's expression and cleared her throat, "Alright, listen, just….meet me outside. I got an umbrella and everything, real snazzy." And with that Francis was turning away and Annie was frozen somewhat in her place. Slowly, she turned back to look at Brady and found him watching her with that look on his face, all warm and gentle and intently focusing on her, his eyes all soft.
"A mini-you." Brady said, his hand squeezing at her hip a bit, before whispering in her ear, "You look incredibly excited." Annie mock-scoffed and gave him a small smack on the shoulder with a grin and shook her head.
"Just because you can read my facial expressions, doesn't mean you have to verbally express that meaning," she whispered back with a chuckle, "it might get me in trouble one day." Brady smirked at her and raised a brow and she shoved at his shoulder again with a buckle of laughter, before turning slightly and grabbing the blanket and pulling it into her arms. His hand ever-presently still lingered on her hip and she found herself enjoying that bit of a presence there. Just a touch that told her he was there.
"Thanks for taking my mind off things a bit," Annie said to him, smiling brightly up towards him, "it just gets to me sometimes, all of that. What's going on back home, can't control things, all of that. So, just, thank you, truly." Brady smiled at her and nodded.
"Everyone needs a little cheering up sometimes," Brady said, "but hey, look, I'll see you later." She smiled at him.
"Go on, Lieutenant, they're in need of your wisdom and guidance." Annie let out a bark of laughter, shoving his shoulder teasingly again before stepping away, her hip slightly cold, the lack of Brady's hand suddenly engrained in her brain, her thoughts, her feelings.
"Hey, Annie," Brady called, and she turned to look over her shoulder and found him stood, hands in his pockets, smirk on his face, "right now all you can think about is….?" Annie stared at him, suddenly staring him down from a few feet away now, no longer under his rather intense gaze that she gravitated towards.
You.
You, you, you, her head seemed to scream. Annie smiled at him and then offered him a mock salute before immediately turning away and speeding right out of the officers' club, a small smile on her lips as she stepped outside, immediately crash-landing into Francis, who caught her arm and chuckled.
"You and Brady looked incredibly cozy." Francis said with a chuckle and Annie rolled her eyes.
"Shut up." "Just saying, looked like the guy was about to ya know, make it official or something."
"He was just being nice, Francis," Annie said, "nothing to worry about."
"You and I clearly define 'nice' as completely different things."
"It was nothing." Annie admonished again, crossing her arms and glancing up towards the woman, "Brady's just…..he's just being nice." Francis smirked and sent her a look as she held the umbrella up above their heads.
"Tell that to the grip he had on your hip." Francis said and then looked away and stepped forward, "Come on! Harding's got a million different documents that need sorting and a second brain." Annie followed under the umbrella, bright red in the face, Francis smirking like a loon. Maybe anchors didn't only anchor other things, but one another in some sort of way a war would force something to.
#THEMMMMM#home is annie's anchor and.....brady feels like home.....#brb going to go sob!!#them them them!#annie trying to ignore these feelings (it's okay sweet girl feel what you need to feel <3333)#plz get these two hugs#thats it#annie bradshaw#john brady#annie x brady#masters of the air#mota#mota writings#silver bullets#francis knowsssss LMFAO#francis montez#she was so fun to include LMAO#john brady x oc
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