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curiositymemes · 1 month

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STICK SEASON: WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER.

taken from the 2023 album by noah kahan. trigger warnings for mental illness, trauma, medication, references to suicide, and the exquisite agony of life in rural new england. feel free to change wording and pronouns and provide context as necessary. do not add to this list.

northern attitude.

how you been?

you settled down?

you feelin’ right?

you feelin’ proud?

you settle in to routine.

what does it mean?

i’m not how you hoped.

you’re gettin’ lost.

scared to live, scared to die.

you’re feelin’ lost.

stick season.

you must’ve had yourself a change of heart.

now i am stuck between my anger and the blame that i can’t face.

it’s half my fault, but i just like to play the victim.

i’ll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose.

i thought that if i piled something good on all my bad i could cancel out the darkness i inherited from dad.

i miss the way you laugh.

you once called me forever now you still can’t call me back.

that’ll have to do.

my other half was you.

i hope this pain’s just passin’ through, but i doubt it.

all my love.

how have things been?

well, love, now that you mention it.

i’m sayin’ too much, but you know how it gets out here.

now i know your name, but not who you are.

it’s all okay, there ain’t a drop of bad blood.

you got all my love.

if you need me, dear, i’m the same as i was.

what i’d give to have you out of me.

i still recall how the leather in your car feels.

and at the end of it all, i just hope that your scars heal.

i swear i was scared to death.

i smiled stupid the whole way home.

you said, ‘i’ll never let you go.’

she calls me back.

there was heaven in your eyes.

everything’s alright.

look at me and don’t you lie.

don’t you hold your head up high.

for bullshit, i do not have time.

do you lie awake restless?

why am i so obsessive?

this town’s the same as you left it.

the radio is taunting me.

i don’t get much sleep most nights.

i’m seeing you in every dream.

if only i could fall asleep.

i’ll love you when the oceans dry.

i was too afraid of living life in your footsteps.

come over.

it was there when we got here, will be there when we leave.

you won’t have to guess who they’re speakin’ about.

i’m in the process of clearin’ out cobwebs.

i was takin’ the wrong meds; feels good to be sad.

my house is just barely big enough for my family.

my mouth was designed for my foot to fit in it.

i promise you, darlin’.

you won’t ever go back.

i know that it ain’t much.

i know that it ain’t cool.

you don’t have to tell the other kids at school.

someday i’m gonna be somebody people want.

new perspective.

makin’ me nostalgic.

we were kids; but that don’t make this less hard.

if i could fly i doubt i’d even do it.

i’d probably get high and crash or somethin’ stupid.

gave me your word.

i can’t pronounce it.

no thing so sure that i can’t learn to doubt it.

everywhere, everything.

would we survive in a horror movie?

we trust everyone we meet.

we’re littered with scars from our preteens.

i wanna love you ‘til we’re food for the worms to eat.

‘til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours.

i know every route in this county.

maybe that ain’t such a bad thing.

i’ll tell you where not to speed.

it’s been a long year.

orange juice.

honey, come over.

it’s yours if you want it.

we’re just glad you could visit.

feels like i’ve been ready for you to come home for so long.

i didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone.

why’d you go?

my heart has changed and my soul has changed.

you just asked me to hold you.

it made you a stranger and it filled you with anger.

my life has changed.

the world has changed.

don’t you find it strange that you just went ahead and carried on?

are we all just pullin’ you down?

strawberry wine.

darling, speak to me.

don’t you say a word.

you thought you were cursed?

i’m in love with every song you’ve ever heard.

if i could lose you, i would.

all the time we used to have.

the things i miss but know are never coming back.

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft.

growing sideways.

finally found some middle ground.

i said, ‘i’m cured.’

i divvied up my anger into thirty separate parts.

i’m still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them.

it’s a start.

but i ignore things and i move sideways ‘til i forget what i felt in the first place.

i know there are worse ways to stay alive.

everyone’s growing and everyone’s healthy.

if my engine works perfect on empty, i guess i’ll drive.

i forgot my medication, fell into a manic high.

now i’m sufferin’ in style.

why is pain so damn impatient? ain’t like it’s got a place to be.

if all my time was wasted, i don’t mind.

i’ll watch it go.

it’s better to die numb than feel it all.

halloween.

the dawn isn’t here, the sun hasn’t rose.

they got money to make and children back home.

i worry for you, you worry for me.

the bridges have long since been burnt.

i’m leavin’ this town and i’m changin’ my address.

i know that you’ll come if you want.

i’m losin’ myself.

i’m seein’ my life on a screen.

i know that you fear that i’m wicked and weary.

i know that you’re fearin’ the end.

i only tell the truth when i’m sure that i’m lyin’.

homesick.

are you bored yet?

the weather ain’t been bad if you’re into masochistic bullshit.

this place is such great motivation for anyone tryna move the fuck away from hibernation.

time moves so damn slow i swear i feel my organs failing.

i stopped caring ‘bout a month ago, since then it’s been smooth sailing.

i would leave if only i could find a reason.

i got dreams, but i cant make myself believe them.

i’ll spend the rest of my life with what could have been.

i will die in the house that i grew up in.

i’m homesick.

still.

i don’t wanna say goodbye.

it only falls into place when you’re fallin’ to pieces.

you miss something that you can’t place but you can’t deny it.

you can’t stay here.

it’s hard to face and it feels too ugly.

it’s like i’m still here with you.

can i fix what is broken?

the view between villages (extended).

for a minute, the world seems so simple.

i am not scared of death.

i’ve got dreams again.

there is meanin’ on earth.

i feel so far from it.

it’s all washin’ over me.

i’m angry again.

the things that i lost here, the people i knew.

they got me surrounded for a mile or two.

i found a town big enough for anything i want.

i’m not a city girl, by any means.

it still has a lot of meaning to me.

i grew up there.

your needs, my needs.

you ain’t gotta tell me what it means.

i promise to be there this time. alright?

you were a work of art.

that’s the hardest part.

i’m naming the stars in the sky after you.

dial drunk.

i promised to forget you.

i ain’t takin’ any fault.

am i half the man i used to be? i doubt it.

forget about it, whatever.

it’s all the same anyways.

i ain’t proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown.

for the shame of being young, drunk, and alone.

i gave your name as my emergency phone call.

i’d die for you.

from charmin’ to alarmin’ in seconds.

i’ll let the pain metastasize.

i beg you, sir, just let me call.

let’s wait, i swear she’ll call me back.

son, are you a danger to yourself?

fuck that, sir.

son, why do you do this to yourself?

paul revere.

this place had a heartbeat in its day.

nothin’ was the same.

it just ain’t that simple, it never was.

one day i’m gonna cut it clear.

i’m not from around here.

i’ll leave before the road crew’s out.

i’ll turn up the music and i’ll forget.

i’m not ready to let go yet.

i’ll just pretend i didn’t hear.

it’s typical, i fear.

folks just disappear.

if i could leave, i would’ve already left.

no complaints.

i thought i had something and that’s the same as having something.

i get mad at nothing.

i pull no punches, then feel bad for months.

thought i was raised better, tried to fake better.

now the weight of the world ain’t so bad.

i saw the end, it looks just like the middle.

i filled the hole in my head with prescription medication.

who am i to complain?

now the pain’s different. It still exists, it just escapes different.

yes, i’m young and living dreams.

i’m in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen.

call your mom.

oh, you’re spiralin’ again.

don’t you cancel any plans.

stayed on the line with you the entire night ‘til you let it out and let it in.

don’t let this darkness fool you.

i’ll drive all night.

i’ll call your mom.

oh, dear, don’t be discouraged.

i’ve been exactly where you are.

if you could see yourself like this.

you’dve never tried it.

stayed on the line with you the entire night ‘til you told me that you had to go.

throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason.

don’t wanna drive another mile wonderin’ if you’re breathin’.

won’t you stay with me?

you’re gonna go far.

this is good land, or at least it was.

it takes a strong hand and a sound mind.

it makes me smile to know when things get hard, you’ll be far from here.

pack up your car.

put a hand to your heart.

say whatever you feel.

be wherever you are.

we ain’t angry at you, love.

you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost.

the birds will still sing.

we’ll be waiting for you, love.

we’ll all be here forever.

we spent so long just getting by.

that’s the thing about survival; who the hell likes livin’ just to die?

you told me you would make a difference.

it won’t be by your own volition if you step foot outside this town.

it’s all we’ve had for always.

you’re gonna go far.

if you wanna go far, then you gotta go far.

forever.

let’s drive for no reason.

you look fine in the evening.

honey, it’s starting to storm.

used to wish i meant anything to anywhere, to anyone.

i’m glad i get forever to see where you end.

i won’t be alone for the rest of my life.

i’ll meet a girl in the heat of july.

i’ll tell her so she knows.

i’m broke, but i’m real rich in my head.

when i hold her close, i might loosen my grip, but i won’t ever let her go.

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adastraetretro · 15 days

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"You know I would kill for you, right?"

"Yes, but would you die for me?"

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 5 months

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Melted Promises | MYG

Pairing: soldier! min yoongi x fem! wife! reader

Summary: He made you a promise that he sealed with a kiss. He said he'd come back to you after the war was over. You could only hope, with a heavy heart and melted dreams, that Yoongi would keep his word and find his way back home.

Warnings: fluff, angst, married! au, war! au, feelings of uncertainty and yearning, happy tears, food. (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.1k words

~Prompt 1: Found Family

~Snowflakes divider by @samspenandsword

~Prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

It was cold. That was all you could feel. Apart from your thumping heart in your aching chest. You were waiting, like every other day after the war had ended. You waited patiently yet you still counted every second. You waited in silence but your mind was racing with thousands of thoughts, of possibilities.

The house was so big without him. The bed was too cold without your husband there to hold you through the icy nights. The table looked longer without him by your side. And life was grey, always threatening to paint itself in black with the news you feared with your entire being.

You hadn’t received a letter from Yoongi for three months now, the war ended two months ago. The uncertainty was killing you slowly, every single day you looked down at your golden band around your ring finger and your heart pained within you, not knowing if Yoongi was alright or not, if he lived or not, if he was going to come home to you or not.

The sound of chopping filled the overly-quiet house. It almost hypnotised you in its own rhythm. It was monotonous, colourless. A soft resemblance of how you had been living since Yoongi left you to go and fight for a country that didn't deserve his pure soul.

"Don't cry, I'll be back before you know it."

His voice reached your ears yet it wasn't a sweet experience like before. You feared with all your being that this was going to be the last time you heard your husband's voice. It was cruel. Bittersweet.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't want you to go, Yoongi."

He sighed, feeling his heart clench at the sight of your tears. You weren't the only one in this position. Lots of men were also saying their goodbyes to their wives, some even to their children. The train station was filled with empty promises and painful tears. It wasn't fair.

"I'll come back to you. I promise."

You sniffled, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands. Trying to be strong for him. You knew how scared he could be at times yet he never showed any signs of it.

Even when those words were based on nothing, you held onto them. The last promise he made to you before the whistle of the upcoming train reached your ears and you embraced him for the last time.

"And I'll be waiting for you to come back to me. I'll miss you like the sun misses the moon, waiting until we meet again."

A lone tear escaped his eye, rolling down his pale cheek at your words filled with so much pain it broke his heart to leave you behind. To leave you in uncertainty. In heartbreak.

"Forgive me."

The train stopped and he had to pull away from you. Gazing into your (e/c) pools once more, maybe for the last time with tears of his own in his dark eyes.

"I love you, Yoongi."

He smiled slightly, the corners of his lips lifting as he looked down at you while his hands rested on your cheeks. Admiring you, imprinting you into his memories and heart.

"I love you too, my (y/n). Never forget that."

You nodded at him, the lump in your throat not allowing you to express your wounded soul to him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. Something that was once as sweet as honey was now sour, poisoned with the thorns of separating two lovers.

You blinked and the memory disappeared from before you. Tears were clouding your eyes and you had to put the chopping knife aside, feeling drained of any energy as you drowned in your waiting, in your sorrow, in your pain.

You let out a sigh, sliding down against the counter with your back resting on it. If only you could make Yoongi appear before you, if only a letter for him would suffice to calm your racing mind. At least you'd know he was alive. That he would come back to you as he promised.

Tears began leaking from your eyes like endless rivers of sorrow. Pain for a destiny you were unsure of, ideas that existed only in your head and you feared would come true.

You had to take a deep breath, calming yourself the best you could, before standing up and wiping your tears with your hands. Yoongi had made a promise to return to you while you also promised him to wait patiently for him.

Remembering your words, the feeling of his lips with that last kiss he had given you, you braced yourself for the future, holding onto melted promises that hung in the air.

It was late at night, another month had passed when you found yourself curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace with dying embers. A soft blanket covered your body as you fell asleep there.

You had made it a habit to wait until your last strength in the living room just in case your husband were to return home in the late night or early morning.

Every night you hoped to wake up to him opening that door and embracing you, kissing your temple and probably carrying you to bed yet every morning you woke up to the same empty house, the same silence surrounded you every time you opened your eyes the next day. The same ache settled in your chest. A pain only Yoongi could relieve.

Snow was falling from the dark skies, the winds were strong outside of the house where you slept with an uneasy heart.

You stirred at the sound of the lock turning, frowning slightly at the disturbance. Sitting up, the blanket scrunched around your waist with the motions. You turned to look at the door as it opened, not really reacting at all with your head still swimming in the world of sleep.

Yoongi entered the house with heavy steps, he was able to catch the last train that would drop him off near his home, it didn't matter that he had to walk for two kilometres at night while it snowed heavily for he only wished to go home to you. See you, embrace you and tell you he loved you.

When your eyes met his from across the living room, you blinked once then twice. Not believing the sight in front of you. Yoongi stood there, taking in your form. It looked like you had fallen asleep on the couch that night yet the tiredness in his bones restrained him from launching at you and taking you into his arms.

"Is this real?"

His heart clenched at your soft whisper. Your eyes held an uncertainty that pained him beyond words. For how long had you dreamed of his return? If he had been able to come back to you since the war was over, he would have. Without a second thought. But life got in between. And the realisation that his absence had hurt you made his heart clench in his chest.

"(y/n)."

He took a step forward, then another and another until he stood in front of you. Gazing down at you with so much love and longing in his dark eyes that you almost reached to touch his hand.

"Am I dreaming?"

He smiled. That gummy smile you loved so much. His eyes watered at your delicate voice, noticing your fingers itching to reach out to him.

"No, dearest. I'm back. It's over."

His hand cradled your cheek and that was the moment you broke down. Realising your husband was there with you. After all this time, he came back to you. Just like he had promised. Your own hand trapped his against your cheek as the tears left your eyes uncontrollably.

"I missed you."

Yoongi sat down next to you, taking you into his arms as he embraced you with all the yearning he had had for you since he boarded the train what seemed to be decades ago.

"I missed you so much, Yoongi."

He pressed you even more into his chest, his own face got buried in your neck, inhaling your scent. That scent that calmed him, his favourite fragrance. The aroma that clouded his senses and lived within him.

"I missed you too, love. So much. So much."

His own tears began wetting your hair as he held you almost harshly against him. Not wanting to let go ever again. Not going to let you go any time soon.

You broke the embrace, needing to look into his eyes. Needing the confirmation of his existence next to you. For you had dreamed of this moment countless times before that now your soul feared this was another representation of your heart's desires.

"You are really here."

You whispered, not breaking eye contact with your husband, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked at him. You noticed his hair was a mess with melted snowflakes slightly wetting it, his eyes sparkled under the dimly lit room. His hands felt calloused against your own hands. His thumb ran over your left hand, softly caressing your wedding band.

"I promised, didn't I?"

You nodded at his words, biting your lower lip in order to stop the sobs of happiness from escaping you.

"I... I was so scared, Yoongi. Why didn't you write to me? I didn't know if you were alive or not. Don't do that to me ever again!"

He smiled at you, feeling tears of his own pooling in his dark eyes that held your whole world in them.

"I won't, I promise."

He put a strand of your hair behind your ear, admiring how beautiful you looked. Admiring his lovely wife after years of being apart. Of silently praying to be reunited with you, of wishing and dreaming of the moment he would be able to hold you again.

Your forehead rested against his, taking in the beautiful moment, the sound of the harsh winds outside was drowned by the rhythmic sound of your heartbeats combined in the cosy living room of your small house.

"I'm never leaving you again. This years apart were the worst torture for me, forgive me for making you go through such pain, (y/n) of mine."

You shook your head, ceasing his babbling as your hands fisted his coat.

"Yoongi, shut up and kiss me. Only the heavens know how much I've yearned for you."

He chuckled, not wasting another second before his lips were on yours. Taking in your scent, your taste, your existence before him. One of his hands cradled the back of your head while the other held yours tightly as they rested on your lap. Your hands were on his shoulders, keeping him close to you.

He was home. After all he's been through, all the death he had witnessed, all the agony and the despair he was finally where he belonged. Next to you, his beautiful wife who would always wait for him even if he were sent to hell and back. You'd wait and he'd return. There was no other option.

And right now, he kissed you, pouring all his hidden emotions into the soft action that represented the love he had for you in a small fraction of its existence. He kissed, having missed you more than he ever thought possible while you reciprocated the kiss.

A kiss of reunion you had dreamed about so many times in so many ways in different places. You allowed yourself to be free of your pain and yearning, your uncertainty and fear. You welcomed him in your arms, a place he'd always be safe and loved. You embraced him, not letting go ever again.

When he parted from you, Yoongi smiled, feeling the love radiating from you and healing his wounded heart. You closed your eyes, enjoying the intimacy, the quietness, the peace that found you after so much torment both in your mind and reality.

For he had returned to you, his family. After tasting both hell and heaven, Yoongi was back to you, returning to his family and the only person in this world that was worth saving. His darling. His wife. His love. For all times to come.

December/01/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

#winter event 2023 #yoongi #sweetcarrotsandroses97 #bts #bts fic #promtps #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #min suga #bts suga #suga #min yoongi x reader #fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #angst #love #married couple

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seaside-writings · 1 year

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Prompt #483

“You are the only suspect, so unless you help me and start giving me some answers, you are the one that's going to end up behind bars!”

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ohmygodletmesignup · 1 year

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imagine dannys reaction to getting summoned by cultists who use sacrifices.

he’d be pissed (not to mention absolutely broken)

his ghostly obsession is to protect people! and because of the desire to summon him, someone died. he’d feel so incredibly angry and guilty. idk i feel like it could be some good angst.

#danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #phandom #angst #fic #promtps #prompt thing #ghost #going ghost #ghost king danny #ghost king au

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 2 years

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Whumptober #25: Free For All

As it’s now a tradition, on my birthday I have a free for all for #25. Today I’ve taken all the words from the alternatives list and thrown them all into one prompt!

Good luck with this one, and If I’m ever in the States then I’ll actually be able to drink!

In one moment of pure sensory overload, A came to. Their ears rung and their brain caught up with their surroundings as though fighting against quicksand. They peeled their eyes open as they forced themselves to watch the aftermath of the explosion. A stabbing headache replaced the cotton wool in their mind inch by inch. Whimpering, A rolled onto their side, dazed and confused while all too aware of ambush that had just taken place. Tears pricked at As eyes from the smoke, and their mouth filled with blood when they hacked at the particles offending their airway. A second detonation occurred, so they curled into a protective ball as a wave of heat blew over them, prickling their skin with debris. They assumed they were in a ball, though their leg injury would suggest otherwise. Such a break would require crutches and months of physio.

A’s adrenaline crashed. They had no energy to move, or to keep on fighting. Instead, they were content to lay there as the explosions and enemies drew nearer to their bloodied form. Shock began to diminish the pain. For a moment A let their eyes slip shut… … until a jarring movement had them edging close to consciousness. They were being carried, that’s as much as they could tell - and by an ally too! Who else would use an emergency blanket - A could assume as much from the chromatic crinkling. In their touch starved state, they didn’t care who was taking them, nor did they care for the medical personnel poking and prodding them… they would care about it all when they next awoke.

#alt prompts #whumptober #whumptober2022 #no.25 #alternatives list #ideas #writing #promtps #angst #explosions #shock #rescue #emergency blankets #confusion #blood #bad injuries #traumatic injuries #ambush #aftermath of an explosion

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onecentwriter · 11 months

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🍃 MAY 🍃

✨ Writing Prompts ✨

***PLEASE CREDIT ME***

Romantic

Whump but with romance. Maybe A gets injured and B tries to help them, but A is super stubborn so B just kisses them and is then like, “Now will you let me help you?”

Grumpy one is soft for the Sunshine one—this trope is common but one of my absolute favorites. If it’s too basic, add a twist! Maybe it’s a romance between a strict, no-fun City person and a carefree, happy-go-lucky Country person.

A just almost died—then they wake up and B slaps them, saying, “You idiot! I thought you were dead!” And then B kisses A.

A is a quiet nerd who is also a poet and B is the most popular person in school. A starts writing poems and leaving them in B’s locker. B meanwhile is having a crisis because they are in love with both their secret poet and the cute, shy kid in their class who, uh, also happens to be that poet.

A and B are a same-sex couple at a same-sex school. 5 times no one told them that everyone knew, and 1 time A and B came out and everyone was like “Uh yeah we already knew.”

Angst

A has abusive parents and often finds themself running to B’s house. 5 times B just comforted them and 1 time B did something.

A is a depressed college student and B is their roomate. B feels helpless about A’s situation and feels like they’re just making it worse, but then A admits that B is one of the only reasons they’re still living. [NON-ROMANTIC]

A is a soldier and has killed thousands of people, but they have one encounter with B, who broadens their perspective, and A realizes during a battle that they can’t bring themself to kill anyone. Their general fires them and they end up wandering the desolate landscape, eventually running into B again.

A is a racecar driver who crashes and is stuck in the hospital on life support. Meanwhile B is their biggest fan and starts a huge movement to support A. Unfortunately, A eventually dies and angst ensues, but the movement B created rallies to support them.

A is a werewolf and B is their sibling, who has to watch their painful transformation every single moon.

Fluff

A and B are owners of a coffee shop, and they find a stray cat in their back alley. Little do they know that the cat is actually C, a shapeshifter and an old friend of theirs.

A is a middle school teacher and B is a homeless kid that attends their school. Somehow A becomes a parental figure for B, lots of fluff and chaos ensues.

A is a time-traveler and B is immortal. B catches A up on when/where they are whenever they travel.

A is a baker and B is their next-door-neighbor coffee shop owner. Enemies-to-friends story where first A and B accuse each other of stealing customers, products, space, et cetera. Then A catches B in a vulnerable moment and slowly they become friends.

A is an avian chick and B is their parent. 5 times B tried to teach A to fly, and the first time A actually flew.

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makeyoumine69 · 7 months

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Hey there! Congratulations on reaching 2k! Your work deserves more recognition. Speaking of celebration, you'd probably call me crazy and I'd understand, but if there's any way you could write a prompt about a reader who's pregnant but has to stay in hospital so Patrick has to cheer her up with some naughty things. I'm addicted to daddy and breeding kinks, so you'll make me so happy if you write it, but you can ignore me if you don't feel comfortable with this idea.

Painkiller

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Even when hospitalized, you can't resist being all over Patrick, like he's some sort of magnet that draws you in. Patrick likes to think of himself as heartless, but the truth is, he can't resist you either, especially when you give him doe eyes and begs prettily.

— CONTAINS: Smut, cussing, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, Daddy kink, slight angst, pregnancy, mentions of violence.

— WORDS: 2k

— A/N: I have to admit that I really enjoyed writing this promtp, so I'm very grateful for such an interesting concept. Also, I'm currently trying to improve my writing by using new words and things like that, so feel free to give me your opinions and advices. As always, I hope you like it! 😘

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

The doctor said you'd have to stay in hospital for at least a week, and your mood was getting worse, but you tried to pretend you were fine, as if it could work and Bateman wouldn't read you like an open book.

"You're probably very happy to have some time off from me," you said once Patrick came close to your hospital bed and trailed his hand along the metal rail. "I was so scared I was going to lose the baby." You sobbed and turned away from him, hiding your face in the pillow.

Patrick's face remained impassive as he stood by your bedside, his eyes fixed on your trembling form. Your words pierced through the layers of his detached facade, striking a chord within him that even he struggled to fully comprehend.

His hand hesitated for a moment before reaching out and gently resting on your shoulder, offering what little comfort he could muster. The weight of your vulnerability settled heavily upon him, stirring emotions that threatened to crack the carefully constructed shell he hid behind.

"I… I didn't want anything bad to happen either," Bateman managed to choke out, his voice laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. He took a small step closer, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back as you buried your face in the pillow.

The sight of your tears tugged at something deep within Patrick — a longing for connection and understanding that had long been suppressed beneath layers of violence and detachment. In this moment, faced with your raw vulnerability, it was impossible for him to ignore the fragile thread that connected both of you.

Gently turning you towards him so your eyes met once more, Patrick fought against the turmoil raging inside him. It was foreign territory — an uncharted landscape where vulnerability dared to exist alongside his darkness.

“(Y/n), you need to rest,” was all he managed to mutter, his large palm kept stroking your shoulder. “When you wake up, I’ll be here.”

Bateman didn't need much persuading as you drifted off to sleep, and after that he sat on the couch next to your bed, watching your chest rise and fall. It was a very short time before you suddenly began to whimper in your dream, calling for him.

Patrick's eyes were glued to your form as he watched you start to writhe around the bed in your dream. The usual steely gaze in his eyes softened, momentarily replaced by a flicker of worry. As you began to whimper in your sleep, his heart clenched tightly.

It was a strange sensation, an unsettling mix of annoyance and, inexplicably, concern. His devil-may-care demeanor slipped as his brows furrowed in a rare sign of worry. The distinct call of his name shot through him, jolting him out of his observations.

"Fuck." Bateman muttered under his breath as he quickly rose to his feet.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

With an odd sense of urgency, he made his way to the side of your bed. Standing there, he watched your pitifully distressed expression in your sleep, his mind grappling with what he should do.

"I'm here, (y/n)," he finally muttered softly, as if hoping his words could offer you some solace. Patrick reluctantly reached out to touch you, his hand hovering over your body for a moment before finally resting gently over yours. His thumb moved in careful circles over your skin, attempting to provide an unfamiliar comfort.

"Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do?" Bateman murmured, addressing no one but himself. He found himself oddly captivated and unsettled by the vulnerability, his own included, that the night had brought about.

When you felt his touch, you woke up to see his worried gaze. "Patrick, my love," you whimpered, sitting on the hospital bed. Your pregnancy bump was so big already that you had to be careful when you sat up. "I had a bad dream…Can you hold me, please?"

The desperation in your plea hit Patrick like a punch to the gut.

Shit, he thought, gritting his teeth. He was Patrick Bateman, a man unaccustomed to offering comfort, especially in such tender moments. His life was a well-orchestrated symphony of controlled chaos and bloody violence, not late-night cuddles and shared intimacies. And yet, as he stared at you — the mother of his unborn child — he couldn't suppress the unfamiliar tug at his heartstrings.

Swallowing back his apprehension, he mumbled: "Alright, doll. Just… fucking hell, give me a moment."

Patrick took a hesitant step toward you, his thin fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides. With a deep, controlled inhale, he extended a hand towards you, resting it gently on your protruding belly. The sensation sent an unfamiliar jolt through him, momentarily silencing him.

"Well, shit. Here we go." Bateman muttered, awkwardly maneuvering himself onto the bed and next to you, his body stiff and unnatural in the unusual position.

His uncertainty melted away with the familiar warmth of your reliance on him, power dynamics shifting in unexpected ways. With a heavy sigh, he wrapped an arm around you, drawing you in close, too caught up in your twisted little world to question the impending shitstorm he was sure to face when dawn broke. "Damn, (y/n)," he muttered, hiding his discomfort behind the familiar veil of profanities. "You owe me for this."

Breaking heavily, you ran your fingers along his broad chest, your heart beating against your ribcage at his words.

"How can I return the favor, Daddy?" You asked, lifting your innocent eyes at him while your hand traced along his inviting groin.

Patrick's whole body went rigid at your sudden courage.

It was a daring move on your part, and his immediate reaction was a guttural curse. "Fucking hell, babe," he growled lowly, striving to keep his composure. Despite the coarse words, he didn't pull away, harshly conflicted between desire and his usual detachment. "Daddy, huh?" A wicked grin spread across his face at your choice of words.

Bateman couldn't help but find the situation somewhat amusing, a much-needed relief given the nauseating state of his existence. He cast a sidelong glance at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your faux innocence. "Are you ready to play with fire, my dear wife?" Patrick challenged, his voice oozing arrogance and dark amusement, a stark contrast to the situation they found themselves in — your hand on his manhood, in the hospital, waiting for their kid. A manic laughter bubbled in his chest at the absurdity of it all, slipping out in an almost silent huff. "I've received my fair share of blowjobs, but this," Patrick drawled, gripping your hand on top of his pants, arching a brow at you. "This would be one for the books."

You couldn’t help but gasp at his touch. "But what if someone comes in?" You asked naively, ignoring the fact that it was already night.

Patrick curled an eyebrow at you, an amused smirk forming on his lips. "So what?" He retorted mockingly, the challenging glint in his eyes reflecting his twisted thrill for risk. "I mean, wouldn't that just add to the fun?" he continued, his hand tightening around yours, the blatant disregard for the possible consequences typical of his reckless, self-indulgent nature."Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a malicious whisper. "Do you really think I give a shit, (y/n)?" He chuckled, his laughter echoing harshly in the stark hospital room.

In his world, such niceties as propriety and privacy were worth nothing more than the dirt under his designer shoes. Patrick obeyed no rules but his own. And right now, his rules were beginning to look a hell of a lot more interesting.

You looked down at your swollen belly, which made it so hard for you to bend down, so you decided to find a compromise. "How about a handjob?" You asked and unzipped his pants, teasing his hard length through his fancy underwear.

Caught off-guard by your proposition, Patrick was momentarily speechless, the intrusive sound of his heartbeat all he could hear besides the low hum of the hospital's air conditioning.

"A handjob? Really?" Bateman muttered with an incredulous laugh. But beneath the surface, he was intrigued. The expectancy in your eyes, the daringness of your manner, and the feel of your hand against him were potent enough to stoke his interest, like a moth drawn to open flame.

Patrick let out a hiss as he felt your hand wrapped around him, his eyes narrowed with an intense, predatory gaze. "Fuck," he ground out, his composure faltering. He was uncomfortably aware of the strange mix of emotions this situation was igniting. Driving his hand into your hair, Patrick tugged your closer, the anticipation tightening his features into a mask of dark desire. "A handjob is fine." He finally consented, his voice as cold as winter's frostbite.

He was not a man to refuse a challenge or deny his twisted desires, and this situation was no exception. The game was on, and he was ready to play ball.

Huffing, you were doing your best to give him a good pump, although your pregnancy bump made you feel very clumsy. With a shy smile, you leaned closer to his face to find his plump lips and pulled him into a deep kiss as your hand worked to bring him pleasure. Thank God it's dark in the hospital room and he couldn’t see your embarrassment.

"Daddy… I… I want you to fuck me right here and right now, but I don't know how we're going to do it since we're in the hospital,"you mumbled, feeling shame burning inside of you. "I'm so sorry for asking."

Patrick's heart pounded wildly in his chest at your words. A sense of elation mixed with fear passed through him, creating a feeling of sickening pleasure. The thought of being caught in such a compromising position added fuel to his already burning desire.

"Oh? You want Daddy to fuck you right here?" Bateman scoffed, his voice a low, predatory growl. "You're a dirty fucking whore. A pregnant whore." He added, his words dripping with contempt.

He could feel his pulse quickening as he thought about the risk involved, the scandal it would cause, the thrill of the danger. His eyes gleamed with a perverse enjoyment. "Well, babydoll," his voice came out breathless. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out, won't we?"

With that, Bateman pulled you closer, sealing your lips in a harsh, needy kiss while his free hand roamed over your body, desperate to claim you in the twisted way only he could achieve.

“There's a bathroom," you murmured breathlessly and stroked his thick dick several times. "Maybe we can go there?"

Patrick grunted in response, his body humming with anticipation at the suggestion. "You're a shameless fucking slut," he muttered against your trembling lips, but there was a calculated gleam in his eye that suggested approval."We'll get there," he whispered, his fingers tightening on your body. "But not before I've finished with what you've started."

He grinned wickedly down at you, his hand sliding with purposeful intent down your little frame towards the curve of your abdomen. The fact that the child growing inside of you was his own, twisted his pleasure into something even more perverse.

Hot and bothered, you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip from the burning desire inside your gut, so you had to close your eyes and gasp: “You will probably have to shush me, Daddy.”

Patrick chuckled darkly at your words, a thrill shooting through him. "Oh, baby," he murmured huskily. "I think I can handle that."

Bateman moved closer, reaching out to cover your mouth with his hand, he could feel your hot breath brushing against his skin, your panting filling the small space.

God, you were so fucking insatiable.

"Now, be a good girl and keep those pretty lips of yours quiet." He drawled, his eyes ablaze with wicked intent. Patrick lowered his head, pressing a fierce kiss on the side of your neck.

P.S. I'm thinking of writing part two, so let me know if you're interested. Thanks for reading! 💗🖤💗

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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wallwriterstuff · 1 month

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To Soothe A Soul ||John Price x Teen!Simon Riley||

Warnings: Mentions of drugs. Implied child abuse and neglect. All the angst. Talk of foster care and sibling separation. Implicit talk of death. Mentions of military discharge and injury. This covers many sensitive topics, Minors should not interact with this.

Words: 2679

Summary: Written for @glitterypirateduck O Captain Challenge using a take on the promtps 'An unexpected visitor' and 'A Rescue Takes Place'.

Former Captain John Price can spot a dead man a mile away, and he's known enough of them to know that not every dead man dies. It's in the eyes, that dead-eyed stare that proves the body might work but the tattered soul inside has long since withered away. He's horrified to find those eyes in the gaunt face of his newest foster child. Simon Riley is a dead man walking, and he's barely 14.

Part 2: The Yes Basket

“Any medical or dietary requirements? Allergies?”

“None as of yet but a doctor’s appointment will be organised for the near future to craft a more detailed healthcare plan. Kid’s malnourished and deficient in an alphabet of vitamins I’ll wager.”

His pen tapped rhythmically against his notepad, his gut feeling tight with anxiety. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called for an emergency placement and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but the fear of the unknown still prickled at the base of his neck, licked in icy stripes up and down his spine. A career in the military had prepared him for much in life, but even the horrors he’d faced abroad couldn’t have prepared him for some of the kids that came into his care. Fostering had definitely been a good move for him after an honourable discharge due to injury had forced him out of the field. The kids he cared for needed routine and consistency as much as he did, and it filled that aching need to have someone reliant on him being at his best, gave him the motivation to keep up with all those exercises doctors had insisted would help him stay healthy and help him to readjust to civilian life. If he had someone to do it all for it was much, much easier.

“Alright then. Anything else I need to know about him?” Price asked, halting the movements of his pen and poising his hand to note down anything of significance.

“Simon has a younger brother, Tom. He took on a caring role for him and it was his wish for the boys to remain together but…welfare concerns don’t permit it right now. We’ll talk more about a family plan going forward with you to ensure they get time together but for now just expect some backlash from the decision to separate them.” The woman on the phone, Kate Laswell she’d introduced herself as, sighed heavily and added, “Also…Simon found their mother. He’s seen a lot in the past 24 hours alone. Be mindful of his grief.”

Price couldn’t quite force his hand to move for a moment, thickly swallowing at the sympathy that clogged his throat for a second. He’d need to wipe that from his expression by the time they arrived; he doubted the boy would want to see it. Lowering his pen, he nodded slowly.

“Alright. How long?” His mind was already racing with all of the things he needed to get ready, to prepare.

“40 minutes from where we are to your address. We’re moving quickly with this one.” Kate informed him. Price internally groaned at the time limit but kept his tone calm and controlled as he agreed that it was fine and hung up. He took a moment to take a breath and then he placed his notebook away and pushed to his feet. He ran his home with just as much military precision as the barrack’s he’d been used to living in, with not a thing out of place and not a speck of dirt visible. No, no, it was the spare bedrooms that needed attention now. They were cleaned the same as the rest of the house but none were set up to welcome a teenager into. As he walked towards the stairs, he saw the fuzzy black ears perk up before hearing the click of hardwood beneath his claws. The grizzled German Shephard wasn’t the most welcoming looking dog given the scarring on his face, but he had a teddy bear heart and intellect that rivalled any human. His big head tilted in question, knowing that at this time of night Price was more likely to be sitting and nursing a glass of whisky and not traipsing upstairs. Price smiled gently and gave the lean muscles of his flank a firm pat.

“We’ve got a guest coming to stay Riley. You gonna be a good boy when he comes, hm?” he fussed him for a moment longer before gripping the railing and ascending the stairs. For the next forty minutes, the former Captain set towels in his bathroom, placed fresh bed sheets on every single bed in each of the spare rooms, and aerated each room to ensure it was fresh and prepared. In the kitchen, he set his fruit bowl front and centre and he tidied up his coat and shoe rack to ensure there was space for another set of belongings there. He tried to drag all these things out, not wanting to wait in the silence for his new charge to arrive and let the anticipation get to him. Riley settled against his side as he attempted to watch TV to pass the last 15 minutes, some mind-numbing episode of Match of The Day he could really care less about since Liverpool hadn’t been playing that day.

His own doorbell startled him like a gunshot, made Riley perk at his side. With a few firm commands and quick scratch behind the ears, he had Riley settled in his dog bed and was taking that last deep breath behind the door. I’ve met plenty like you, we’ll be fine.

Oh.

Oh no, no he hadn’t.

I’ve never met a kid like you at all.

Simon Riley clutched the bin bag full of his possessions in a white knuckled grip, his fist trembling with the effort as if scared that losing his grip meant losing everything. Every inch of him was locked up tighter than a maximum-security prison, and those eyes…those dead, dead eyes. They didn’t flinch. He’d seen SAS boys focus through glinting scopes with the same sort of resolve, unblinking, unyielding, vigilant in a way they’d been rigorously trained for. This gangly teen in tattered jeans and a baggy hoodie made a bigger impression than any he’d yet met. Dead as those eyes were they were keen, sharp, and Price knew they wouldn’t miss a trick. Overly aware now of his expression and body language, Price stepped aside to leave a nice wide gap, his smile welcoming and face soft, open.

“Hi, Kate right? And you must be Simon. Do you prefer Simon, Si, some other nickname?” he asked, gesturing for them to come in. Kate gave him a slightly strained smile and he guessed the ride over had been rather intense. Simon Riley oozed intensity in waves. When he stepped over the threshold into Price’s home it was like watching the grim reaper himself enter, an oppressive and ominous atmosphere following him, like he’d been trained to make his presence fill a room in a way his physically body couldn’t. Intimidation was something Price had dealt with for years however, gotten good at himself, and so he maintained that soft, open body language and didn’t flinch at that dead-eyed stare. I see you, but you don’t scare me, and nothing here should scare you either.

“Simon.” He grunted finally, fingers flexing around the bin liner. One bin bag. Moderately full but from the bulky way it stretched the bag Price guessed the majority of it was clothes. There was a stink that followed the bag to. Weed, he recognised, smoke, something bitter and tangy…iron-like. He filed that away as a conversation for later. Nodding, Price gestured to the shoe and coat rack.

“Simon, it’s good to meet you, I’m John. I made a space for your shoes and your coat here. House rules are that shoes always come off before we come in, please, or we’ll be forever mopping the hardwood.” He chuckled, maintaining that friendly smile as he waited to see what he’d do. Simon was already testing him clearly, because he let the silence drag out for a long while before he finally toed off his shoes and set them on the rack. His toes curled and uncurled into the hardwood for a moment. Price had seen it before both in soldiers and in previous kids, that fight or flight instinct. It was the scary unknown that did it. For some kids that came in this was the first house they’d been in that was clean and well-lit and warm. For some it was the emptiness of the open space that was unnerving after they got used to cramped bedrooms or bustling, busy living rooms filled with unsavoury visitors or simply one too many family members.

“John has offered to let you stay here for the time being, but I’ll be around still okay?” Kate assures him, “I’ll work on setting up visits with Tommy for you, and you’ve got my number saved in your phone, in case you want to talk to me.” Price knows instinctively that Simon won’t ever use that number. He doesn’t look the type to lean on anyone, least of all a stranger whose separated him from his brother.

“Actually, there’s more than just me in the house,” he pipes up, “Are you alright with dogs, Simon?” The boy doesn’t give him a single twitch of a response, simply looks from one adult to another. Buried deep beneath the layers of forced apathy Price can see exhaustion. “Riley’s an ex-service dog, worked with me on many a mission. He’s got a good temperament and likes a lot of fussing. He’s got a few scars though. You want to meet him?” his questions are met with silence once more, so John simply takes a few steps left to the archway leading into his living room, where Riley sits patiently in his dog bed near the window. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, ears perked and tail flicking in excitement. He doesn’t run, but he does lope forward a bit, curious and wanting to meet new faces, but Price makes him heel.

Simon almost rises on the balls of his feet, like a bird ready to take flight, eyes fixed on the German Shepherd in his eye line. Price takes a second to evaluate him, trying to see if it’s fear or curiosity, but the boy gives so little away. It’s the faintest twitch of his free hand toward Riley that gives Price incentive to motion the dog forward. It’s a gentle and tender display, as if Riley knows how sensitive the wounds Simon’s carrying are, like he can read the neon sign that screams HANDLE WITH CARE emblazoned on the boy’s broken soul. He sniffs gently at his pale hand, and Simon’s nose wrinkles ever so slightly at the cold, wet sensation on his bony knuckles. It doesn’t stop him from reaching to give Riley’s ears a scratch. The German Shepherd sits obediently, pushing his giant head into Simon’s hand for more. Kate gives the faintest smile.

“What’s his name again?” she asks.

“Riley.” Price replies, chuckling slightly as she goes to fuss him to. Her input causes Simon to fall back, eyes snapping to her and away from the dog, moving quickly from one fixation to the next, always hyper-aware and alert. How many times had the hand he’d not been watching for struck him? You can relax here, son, he wanted to say.

“A very good boy.” She coos. Price hums in agreement and steps up beside them.

“Living room has the TV and an old games console. I don’t have many games but if you like we can get some more in eventually. I don’t really use it often. Kitchen’s right through if you want a drink or something to eat?” His offer is met by that dead eyed stare again, but after a moment of consideration Simon gives him another quiet answer.

“Water.” His voice fluctuates with all the tell-tale signs of a boy on the cusp of puberty and Price is again hit by just how young he is for someone so alert and mistrusting. He doesn’t let the way his heart cracks a bit show on his face and simply leads them through to the kitchen, silently showing Simon exactly where the glasses are for him if he ever needs them while offering to make Kate a coffee to. Simon doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at all, just remains this silent and oppressive presence lingering in the corners of the room, anywhere that gives him a good vantage point really. He's a silent spectre, a sentinel, a ghost. Always somewhere just out of sight with everything in his watch and reach. Price lets him stand where he’s comfortable, concedes that little bit of control to him on a night he knows the boy’s had no control of anything.

“I’ve got a few different rooms upstairs, all of them are ready to move in to but I thought you might want to pick one that suits you.” He says, leading the two of them upstairs. Simon hasn’t once let go of his bin-liner and Price suspects getting him to wash anything in that bag is going to take considerable time and effort; this is all Simon has now of home, and however much a hell-hole home might have been he’s seen kids cling to the most disgustingly filthy objects purely because it’s the last vestiges of their old life and family they have left. He’s left all the doors open so Simon can explore each room upstairs at his own pace, and he waits patiently at the end of the hallway to give him time to adjust to the idea that this home is now his to.

Price can sense the overwhelm a mile away as Simon lingers in each doorway, like he’s afraid that to enter a room would be to taint it somehow, the pristine white linen looking to fine for his grubby hands. He can see the dirt under the boys nails, the slight lacquer of grease in his unkempt hair. Moving quickly indeed he thinks grimly as he watches the boy hesitantly test a mattress and peer out a window. That soulless stare focuses back on him when he’s found the room he wants, but the words won’t come. Simon never once asks if the room can be his, he’s never been allowed to want, but he acquires it through presence alone.

Price nods to the chest of drawers, “Bottom one’s got bedding in. We can talk some more tomorrow about how you want to decorate it. Take your time settling in and come down when you’re ready. Lights out at 10:00, alright?” Simon gives him a slow blink, and Price realises that’s all the reaction he’s going to get as he turns and walks to the stairs, Riley on his heels. Laswell waits near the front door, tapping away on her phone to organise the rest of Simon’s life no doubt. He clomps down the steps, absent-mindedly rubbing away the phantom aches in his leg once he hits the bottom.

“Kid doing okay?” Laswell’s question comes with a critical eye of him, and Price knows she’s really asking if he can cope with him more so than if Simon will be alright here. He gives a slight nod, glancing back up the stairs.

“Okay as he can be given the shit he’s gone through…he’ll, er…he’ll take some getting used to.” Price admitted.

“He’s not said more than five words to me since we met hours ago, and that stare…”Laswell shuddered a bit. Price hummed in agreement as he opened his front door to let her out.

“We need anything we’ll let you know, till then best to let him settle.”

“Alright then. You have my number.” Laswell lifts a hand in farewell as she walks down the front path and towards her car. Price watches her go, his mind already back on the teenage boy she’s leaving behind. Deposited in his house with nothing more than a bin-liner to his name, Simon Riley was going to require some serious care, and he felt clueless as to where to start. With a deep sigh, he closed the front door and set off towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea and a game plan. He was going to make this house a home for the boy, one way or another.

#captain john price #call of duty #cod modern warfare #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley #ocaptainchallenge #foster carer john price #teen!simon riley #john price x simon riley #tw dark themes #tw child abuse #tw child neglect #tw death #tw sibling seperation #kate laswell #might make this a mini-series #imagine the chaos of foster dad price with 3 traumatised teenagers

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stayconnecteed · 23 hours

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❛⠀DRABBLE EVENT⠀—⠀400 followers milestone . . .

# about : hai hai haii my loves 🥺 i recently hit the milestone of 400 followers here! and it's all thanks to you! i would have never imagined i could count with an amazing space as this little universe we have here on tumblr, but it's true. and all i can say is thank u thank u thank u for everything; for your words, and your support, and your friendship. ily ily ily 💗 welcome to this silly event!!

╰⠀how to participate .ᐟ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; i will be waiting for your asks with the following order ( time of the day + member + main theme + promtp ). let me explain. i will be adding the drabbles to an already prepared masterlist with all my timestamps, so for time of the day, i mean specific hour (17:29, 23:17...), then a member of your choosing, select a theme between fluff/hurt-comfort/angst/smut* and a prompt of the following lists: one, two, three, four.

*about smut : writing smut is a very difficult and exhausting experience for me, so i'll be very picky with the asks about it. it's just something i need to feel writing in the moment.

⠀⠀⠀have fun sending your ideas! i'll be waiting for them 💗

#﹙ ★ ﹚ mars — milestones.#stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids drabbles #bangchan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #jisung x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader

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droptheprompt · 2 years

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Dialogue Prompts #2

🎃 “I’m not watching horror with you.”

🎃 “Pet the black cat for good luck.” “Isn’t it the other way around?” “No.”

🎃 “These decorations look so real.”

🎃 “Um… should I be concerned about the blood on your shirt?”

🎃 “This is supposed to be the most haunted graveyard in the country.”

🎃 “I’m not doing couple costumes with you.”

🎃 “Where are your decorations?”

#halloween prompts #halloween writing prompts #otp #otp prompts #imagine your otp #imagine your ship #fanfic ideas #writing #writing prompts #otp dialogue #dialogue prompt #spooky prompts #horror writing promtps #platonic or romantic #fluff prompts #angst prompts #droptheprompt

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mamuzzy · 5 months

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For those angst prompts, "Don't ever utter those words again, I'm begging you." for either Fox/Thorn or Fives/Deadshot. Whichever tickles your fancy :D (@/nooneherebutusghosts).

Thank you for the ask, @nooneherebutusghosts! While I usually don't pass a chance to create something with my babygirl, the promtp begged for FoxThorn so I went with them. I hope you like the little illustration and the accompanying fic I've come up with! Enjoy~

Relationship: ThornFox Rating: Gen Warning: Safe for read but tell me if something needs to be tagged. No beta. Word count: 982 Summary: Thorn was injured in one of his mission on Coruscant and Fox feels guilty about it.

The thoughts always lingered in one of the deepest, hated side of Fox’s mind. That all it was a bad idea, wrong, wrong to the core. After so much shit going on, everything felt like a responsibility, even the small beautiful things he managed to grab a hold on and oh he clung on that sweetest forbidden fruit like his life depended on it, but the thing is with fruits that eventually they start to rot and inevitably die. So how do you preserve a fruit, you put it in the conservator to keep it fresh a little longer, or dry the moisture out of it so it can be stored for years. Now Thorn wasn’t a fruit and Fox wasn’t a psycho either to put the ideas into practice. Still, the dilemma stood.

“Fox’ika” whispered Thorn with a faint smile, eyes half-closed. “You are going to implode with all that thoughts in your head.”

Fox, raised his head immediately, a mixture of concern and relief on his face, he didn’t even noticed how anxiously he was fidgeting with his thumbs in his lap. He sat near Thorn’s bed, waiting for him to wake up from his sedated, dreamless sleep.

“Sorry” said Fox apologetically. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t. The trooper outside is quite eager with the searching lights.”

Fox looked outside the window and frowned as the harsh light sweeped through the grounds precariously. He was supposed to be proud of the shiny assigned to the guard tower, probably wanted to investigate every nook and cranny of the CG grounds, including the very walls of the ward, or maybe he was just simply liked to messing around with the lights like a little boy who finally got to play with grown ups’ toys.

“I tell him to knock it off.”

“Don’t” said Thorn seeing his riduur raised his vambrace, fingers itched to make a call. “Stay with me.”

Fox measured the priorities and decided it was with Thorn rather than taking his frustration out on that sod of a shiny, especially that Thorn slowly emerged from his bed, sat up with a painful groan and hands on his bandaged hip.

“You should rest!” said Fox, already on his feet to help his lover to lay back but Thorn reached out for his hand.

Their finger entwined in tenderness, intuitively and caring, skin to plastoid and fabric of the blacks. The searching light swept again the room, making rogue particles visible between them, and then disappearing again in the dark. They stood like this for a while, Thorn looking up with loving tiredness with the most softest smile he was able to manage despite the pain.

And something broke in Fox.

“I’m sorry” a sound escaped from Fox’s mouth little no louder than a quivering whine. Thorn could feel the trembling through the fingers. He looked at his face distorted by repressed guilt, he immediately know what was wrong.

“Fox’ika…”

“I’m sorry “ Fox repeated “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Com’ here, love” Thorn spread his other arm as an invitation “It’s okay.”

Fox took one big step, the gap closed between them and clung on Thorn while hands folded around his neck into a tight needy embrace. Sobbing burts out from somewhere the deepest hated depths of Fox’s heart.

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have send you down there!” Fox gasped for air with hiccups. “I knew it was dangerous, possibly lethal and yet I sent you down there!”

“Fox, I knew the risks” Thorn replied calmly but the anxious rambing went on.

“And I knew it too! That’s why I sent you there, because you are a fucking competent soldier, my best, my second in command and now seeing you like this makes me want to hide you into a safe compartment or put you into the cryochamber and when everything is safe, I’ll unfreeze you and…”

“Fox you can’t just set me aside like a paperwork until the war is over” Thorn couldn’t help but chuckle. “Like you said, I’m your second in command. The flame that shines for you so you can work in the shadow. Remember?”

Fox couldn’t make himself remember and did not heard him.

“I can’t protect you, I can’t save you when I’m not with you, I can’t change the outcomes, you were there dying and I wasn’t with you, I was an irresponsible commander, Thorn, I don’t deserve you to be gentle with me after all this, I don’t deserve your smile, don’t deserve you!”

Thorn cupped Fox’s face into his palms to lock their gazes, and looked into those teary amber eyes full of despair.

“Are you saying this as my riduur or my superior?” asked in a serious tone even Fox stopped with the rambling. “I’m your second in command. A commander. A competent soldier, like you said. But now I messed up a mission, my men died, the men I chose, just as you chose me to lead this operation. I know you fear for me but when we were just colleagues, you never thought about a second to send me into my death because you trusted me to come back.”

“I know…”

“I’m not done.”

Fox whimpered.

“Fox… remember our vows. We share love as well as the burden that comes with our duty. Please… don’t let love blur your judgement of my capabilities. And do not neglect me when I need my riduur at my side. Right now.

Hot tears wetted Thorns calloused fingers as Fox slowly nodded. Thorn leaned in to give his lover a small kiss on the lips, light as a feather, making him whimper again. It made sure that no other thoughts remained in Fox’s mind. Their silence was comfortable as Fox’s abrupt breathing started to calm down, Thorn whispered into his lips, almost pleadingly.

“Don’t ever utter those words again, I’m begging you.”

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I don't deserve you angsty prompt list can be found [here], send me a prompt with a ship and I draw you something!

#thornfox #cloneship #clonecest #cloneshipping #commander thorn #commander fox #coruscant guard #the clone wars #star wars

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