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saintunhinged · 1 year

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Until now, it had been clear to you that Julian was not particularly adept at seeing the best in himself. As a result, you weren’t completely surprised when he said he was doubtful about the future of his freedom, and how he might be not able to keep you safe within it.

In Mazelinka’s house, the thin curtain that separates the bedroom from the living room, made it possible for you to hear everything he had to say in the next room.

The fact that he was self-incriminating himself worried you. He would eventually convince himself that you deserve someone better than him; someone who could give you everything he was not capable of giving.

You refused to settle for the disheartening words that came from his mouth, so you walked in to confront him. In a weak mutter, you whispered Julian’s name loudly enough for him to hear you and realize he was not alone. It didn’t take him long for his pale skin to burn bright red just by looking at the sound’s source.

“Oh!” He shot up from his sitting position on the bed, obviously unaware of your presence before. In his haste, he stumbled over his clumsy feet. “Where’d you come from? Well, no, not ‘where’ but uh..” He trails off, and a long silence passes over you. He cleared his throat as the awkwardness of the situation began to settle in. “How.. uh, how long have you been standing there here?” He asked guilelessly, careful to avoid eye contact.

“Long enough to know you’re not treating yourself well.” You saunter closer to him, bringing your hands up to either side of his face. “I thought we talked about this, Julian.” As he sheepishly glanced at everything in sight but your face, his body language conveyed his embarrassment as he looked around.

The tall man chuckled a humorless laugh, “You’d think I would know better by now.” He dropped his head, quickly bringing it back up in a split second. “I’m sorry.” He irresolutely claimed, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“Apologize to yourself. I’m not the one who needs to hear it.” You softly told him. You hated when he thought the worst of himself, telling himself he was destined for the worst. More than anything, you wanted a future with him, but with the way things were unfolding, you weren’t sure how much time with him was in that future.

He shook his head, disagreeing frantically. “I don’t deserve it. I— You don’t deserve what I’m putting you through.” Dejected, he sighed. Due to his preoccupation with his thoughts, he found it difficult to glance at you. He flopped down on the edge of the bed. His elbows dug into his thighs, and his head fell into his hands.

You guessed this was on his mind for a while now. The reaction he gave upon first noticing you was enough to understand he wasn’t planning on you finding out. You let your body sink into the shabby mattress next to him. “You can talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you, Julian?” Your hand finds his leg, softly rubbing circles there with your thumb.

For a moment, you lose hope in getting a response. That is until he released a long, shaky breath. “I never wanted you to get involved in this,” He started off with a sentence that made you uneasy. You had a feeling where this was heading. “I know this train I’m on is leading to my own terrible fate, I don’t want to drag you down with me when this is all over.” Anxious, he stuttered fiercely, the words swarming in his head failing to correspond with the ones flying past his lips. “I- I just, uh, I figured I’d flee before you er .. you had the chance to stop me..” Bashfully, Julian stood up in an attempt to move himself further away from you, but your deft fingers gently grabbed ahold of his wrist.

His tall frame hovered over you when you stood with him. Maybe it was anger or distress, or even both, but abrupt emotions bubbled inside of you at the jolting revelation. “So you were just planning to leave without even saying goodbye? I’m a part of this now. It was never your decision.” Just the notion of a scarring betrayal played out by him tugged the strings attached to your heart in all the wrong ways. He mentioned something along those lines in previous conversations, ones that were quickly fixed with your help. Now, somehow there was no need for conscious reasoning to know he really considered leaving this time. You felt it.

You couldn’t fight the urge to hold him close, and soon your arms encased his lanky torso. Enthusiastic, he clung hopelessly to you like you might disappear if he loosened his grip even a little. “We’re in this together, no matter what. I choose this. I choose you, and whatever comes with it. I won’t let you sabotage this, Julian.” The closeness allowed you to deeply breathe in his invigorating, earthy aroma. “I care about you more than anything.”

“I can’t help but wonder why that is? There are so many others your time would best be spent with, yet you’re wasting it on someone like me.” He timidly voiced his doubts out loud.

“None of them are nearly as overly dramatic, stubborn, and irresponsibly impulsive as you.” His cheeks flush at the statement. Ready to utter a thousand claims to defend those actions, Julian opens his mouth to respond, only to be intercepted by you. “But most importantly, no one comes close to the brave and selfless man I’ve fallen for. You do know I love you, right?”

He’d never get tired of hearing you express your love to him. But nothing felt better than feeling it. He pulls back to place a sweet kiss on your forehead, then his lips press firmly against yours. His mouth parts and you take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Julian groaned, his body sagging against yours as he lost himself in your touch.

Gods, did he love hearing you say those words. Much like the first time you told him you loved him, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t believe there was a chance you could ever love him, but you did, and knowing that was the best thing in the world. “Of course,” he breathed, “And I love you, darling, but..” His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and you recognized the common ‘I’m not worthy of your love’ speech coming on.

“There is no ‘but’. I want to be with you, to love you. I’m not walking away when things get difficult.”

“Don’t you understand, love? Nothing is easy when I am involved.” There was no reasonable reason for denying the truth he believed lay behind that statement. But maybe, just maybe it didn’t have to be that way?

With sincere and intense conviction, you spoke honestly, “I’m willing to take that chance.” You cared too much about what happened to him. There was no way you’d let him face his troubles alone.

Lost in thought, his gaze trailed over every aspect of your facial features. Only a fool would be daft enough to let something so beautiful slip away from them. “You’re remarkable,” A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “..I guess I should thank you for uh.. stopping me from doing something I’d regret for the rest of my life.” Content with his newly restored confidence, he was bolstered enough to accept it: he was lucky to have someone like you.

Smiling, you tenderly kiss him. “Don’t mention it.”

this is kinda old, but i wanted to rewrite it since i didn’t like how it was written. new and improved fr

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starfall-spirit · 1 year

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One Happy Family

Gift fic for @the-lost-changeling

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 858

Summary: Returning home from an emissary mission in Autumn, Gwyn finds her mate rigging their most recent competition, and not in the way she expected.

AN: The Autumn Gwyn theories don't have much substance, but I like them, so we're rolling with it.

"You're jumpy this evening, Gwyneth." Her eyes snapped to the High Lord's. Eris was intimidating at times, if not for his power, then for the fact he was difficult to read, always seeming bored or amused by whoever he faced. "Trouble back home?"

Always ready to pounce on weakness, growing allies or not. More than once she had wished Rhys found another way to secure Beron in the war.

"You were made aware of my reasons for needing a replacement these past months. It's not easy to be separated from your first child," she confessed.

"Yes, my congratulations," he muttered, scrawling his signature before gathering the paperwork in front of him. "Make sure this hits Rhysand's desk tonight." She raised her eyebrow. "Please."

At least he could be that courteous.

“I will. Unfortunately, I’m still unable to winnow, if you don’t mind taking me to the border.”

Azriel would be home with their infant, but Feyre promised either she or Rhys would be waiting at the edge of the territory they had arranged with Eris in the past. “Of course.” A sweep of wind and they were folding through space, renewing the queasiness she could never quite master. “Good evening, Gwyneth. Rhysand.”

He left without another word. “Thanks for coming to get me, Rhys.”

“Of course. I take it that paperwork is for Feyre and me?” She nodded. “Does it say anything I can tolerate reading at this hour?”

She snorted. “For two High Lords trying to find an alliance, neither of you are very tolerant of the other’s requests.”

Rhys grimaced. Eris had come to power three years ago, revealing Gwyn’s watered-down heritage to Autumn nobility mere months later. Though the Autumn Court had some very backward beliefs about their females, the new High Lord knew better than to meddle with Gwyn’s place in things, especially with the bond between her and Azriel so fresh. Rather than release noble ties completely, he proposed she be Night’s emissary to Autumn.

And thus began an endless back and forth between Eris and the monarchs of Night.

“We’ll get there,” Rhys muttered. “Hold on.” Folding into shadows, he winnowed them straight into the heart of Velaris, where Gwyn and Azriel had found a modest apartment of their own that overlooked the Sidra River. It was a short walk—and shorter flight—to the House of Wind and Riverhouse their family members occupied and hosted from. “Have a good evening, Gwyn.”

She tightened her grip a bit on the papers when he started to take them. “I know there are plenty of moral disagreements between you. Maybe if there were some minor things you could overlook Eris would be more agreeable to your own demands. It takes all three of you to build an alliance. If you and Feyre might consider—”

“I’ll talk to her.” The paperwork vanished, presumably to his office or room for he and Feyre to view soon. “Thank you. I know neither side of this makes your job easy. And I do hate dragging you away from Catrin. Give her love from her uncle, will you?”

She nodded and he winnowed once again, leaving her to step into the warmth of her home. Afraid to wake her daughter at this hour, she crept in on silent feet. Then two words reached her just before she turned into the family room.

“Say Mama?”

Her breath caught.

She and Az had always had a competitive streak. From their early days training, to the scattered moments between her friendship blooming with Nesta and the beginning of Azriel’s courtship, there had always been something. A skill to master, a goal to meet, a game to win.

The most recent… Who’s name Catrin would say first.

Faerie younglings developed so slowly in comparison to humans that it could be anywhere from weeks to months before their daughter spoke. Plenty of time for them to sway her learning towards one phrase or another. It was also commonly known that children were quicker to take to the D sound than the M. Azriel had every advantage with her work taking her outside of the court again.

She peeked around the doorway, watching the pair. Catrin had her mothers coppery hair and her father’s hazel eyes. She was the most beautiful thing Gwyn had ever seen. And there tucked into the warmth of her father’s chest and wing she was all the more lovely.

She watched as Azriel reached up again to point at the family portrait Feyre had gifted them upon Catrin’s birth. The pose was stunning, depicting Gwyn and Az forehead to forehead, smiling down on a bundle of pink, little fingers already seeming to reach for the shelter of the wings above them.

His finger paused in front of Gwyn’s face. “Mama. Right there.” Catrin cooed softly. “Yes, Your mama is away doing some work for Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre, but she’ll be home soon, little one.”

He turned slowly, pausing when he spotted Gwyn with her head just past the threshold. “Well, now we both know who’s going to win this little contest,” he said.

“Do we? Or have you just reversed the game?”

#acotar #gwynriel #moodboard #one shot #gift #prompt based #gwynriel fic

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writtenonreceipts · 1 year

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Idk if you're willing to do so, but I would love a Rowaelin fanfic about Rowans reaction to Aelin dying

warnings: major character death. ~800 words.

...

The End

The forest was quiet. Too quiet. Not even the sounds of a bird or the wind through the trees broke through the gray morning. Rowan could feel it sink in his bones, that stillness that stark contrast to the war waging within him.

Because the silence of the forest reminded him of what was gone. What never would be again.

He wove among the spindly birches and the towering evergreens and was reminded of a time long ago where he ran through these woods. Where he ran with a strange sense of freedom that he hadn't felt in ages.

And here among the trees the peace and the silence he could feel her. For a moment he could feel that all-consuming presence, that reminder of someone at his side. Someone he thought would always be there.

She'd only been gone a week, his Fireheart. And it felt like a millennium.

It hadn't been her time, not really. They'd spent three hundred years together working to build their kingdom, working to keep Terrasen strong as honor.

And here he was. Without her. He'd spent so long with her, knowing her. Loving her. And now that she was gone, he felt listless, bereft in a sea of loneliness.

He paused in his walk as he came to a small clearing in the trees. It was a small ring that opened up to a window in the sky. Gray clouds coalesced into layers and layers to the point that Rowan doubted any shade of blue would ever be seen again.

He looked up to that sky and wondered at its endless depths.

Meiri, his oldest, often pondered on how the weather changed so suddenly. She called it strange and otherworldly and praised the way the world worked. She was like her mother in that. She was curious and wise and brilliant. She was her own creature.

In recent weeks, Meiri had tried to ask him if he'd wanted company, but Rowan had declined. Over fifty years ago, Meiri had been crowned queen and Aelin stepped down. Meiri’s oldest son had just barely reached maturity and Aelin and Rowan agreed it was time to let their daughter rule the kingdom and prepare her own children for the throne when the time came. The decision had proven wise and Meiri was a wonderful leader with her husband at her side.

Even with all of her experience, it wasn't fair to distract Meiri from her duties.

Finlay had offered to join him. If only to find the chance to use his ice magic to cause sanctioned mischief. At two hundred years old, Rowan would have thought his eldest son would have matured. Though, with Fenrys as an uncle it was a near impossible thing to hope for.

Coilin and Wynne were traveling together, both unmated, unmarried, and without a care for responsibility. Just as they should be. Rowan received a note from his youngest children offering strength and suggesting that perhaps a visit to the desert may be welcome.

Rowan declined.

Perhaps it wasn't good for him to be alone. Perhaps he should have sought out his children. Perhaps…

No.

He needed this time. This moment.

He needed to remember his wife. His mate. The impossible female he'd loved for over half his immortal life.

A small breeze skittered through the trees. It was warmer than it should have been and he could imagine her there, just behind him, sending a teasing little flicker his way. It wouldn’t have been the first time she would do such a thing.

He could remember a time when they'd been in these same woods together. When they ran through the trees. When they flew on unfettered feet. When for a small moment in time they could simply exist as them. When they didn't have duties or magic or wars to worry about.

Over the years he often thought about that time. He loved it. Loved to reflect on when she was a wildfire that burned through his soul. He loved to ponder on the impossibility that was Aelin. She came careening into his life on a happenstance and she never left. Even when Maeve had ripped her away, that small flickering bond remained.

And now he was left with silence.

Rowan tilted his face up to the sky and felt the chill of the air on his skin. He felt a sorrow deep in soul that would never fade. He knew that for as long as he drew breath, nothing would ever be the same. He would never forget her smile, her laugh, the feel of her skin.

And one day they might be reunited.

Kneeling down on the soft earth, Rowan dug a small hole in the dirt. He withdrew a a lean gold chain from his pocket and gently lowered it into the hole. He supposed the Eye of Elena should have been left with Aelin when she was laid to rest. But he thought she might light it here, free and in the wild. Like her.

“To whatever end, Fireheart,” he murmured. And then he stood and started to run.

...

tags

@morganofthewildfire // @aelinchocolatelover // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @fangirlprincess09 // @highladysith // @tillyrubes10 // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @rowaelinismyotp // @sheharahu // @1islessthan3books // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @vanzetanze // @foughtconquered // @acciowests // @cassianscool // @thegreyj // @acourtofsjmtrash // @story-scribbler // @jesstargaryenqueen // @amoretheiwa // @jorjy-jo // @danibutterr @live-the-fangirl-life // @foreverfallingforthestars // @pastasiren // @whimsicallyreading // @infernoqueen19 // @mis-lil-red // @lemonade-coolattas // @scribbled-semantics // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @rainbowcheetah512 // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @swankii-art-teacher // @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @bananaanna23 // @goddess-aelin // @liars-lmao // @emily-gsh // @rowaelinrambling // @bookcide // @sideralwriting // @nerdperson524 // @thegloweringcastle //

#rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #prompt based #canon #throne of glass #tog #throne of glass canon #post canon #tog fic #fanfic #there is slight pain

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ver-s-m-l-tude · 10 months

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4th of July

[I'm not a patriot but I've a tradition of writing a poem on the 4th of July because fireworks inspire me. Here's what's on my mind this year.]

Pt 1. Rootings

Imprint on third retina

dark spots like sun burns in the memory of you, the way you, when you, how you, fell,

thwipping rags and dark curls, smelling of sage smoke and soil.

Roots, you said. Like hair curling down into the ground, held there, cradled there.

Dark like coffee grounds before sunrise, the caffeine buzz of wanting, hungry and lapping. The memory is static, though.

Cleaved

to colorful bars

and remainder radiation, a reminder

that every beginning has ripples of loss,

entropy encoded into order,

like water likes gravity,

always chasing each other down

and through. Needles like thread

like water likes your neck,

exposed throat and collarbone,

lake-wide expanse for retinas one and two

to swim in.

I would slip

down you too,

plunging there like orcas after air.

Holding breath like worship,

abstinence from the tempo of the body,

suspended

in in in in just one moment,

one note held in in in in the melody,

a sitcom parlor laugh track and coy smiles.

A national pastime:

comedy encoded into tragedy.

But it doesn't matter.

In the way scars don't matter, in the way retinal stains

don't mater.

Entropy is just probability dancing,

fireworks to ash.

But the memory is there,

but the memory doesn't matter.

It just plays out like film tangles to tatters.

I still love you,

in shades of white instead of red, instead of blue.

You said you never fell for me,

though I tend to disagree.

You fell for me like the ground falls for the tree.

Pt 2. East Wind

Elk bone white (yellow) clouds hug the city

the only color here in hair dye and eyeliner

punk studs glint pink and concrete silver and

the broken glass glints

with punk studs, pre-break of course.

We're all aware

of the encroaching carbon black

cannonade of clippings

and echo roiling

like storm water or wildfire.

But opportunity glints in the color set foreground

to concrete white and smoker's yellow.

Hands like other hands

almost as much hands like climbing.

The want of each other lurking just bellow

the sprint of gripping and lurching ladders.

I saw them once,

pulling up and over the unsummitable

if only to get out of the smoke and steam.

Some hands like the heat,

but by trigger flash comforters and gaslight smiles

too cold with sleep to warm by palms.

New age lullabies like cinema in silhouette

on the cradle wall,

fairy dust and wishful thinking and shooting blanks

into the eastern wind.

[Pt 1. was partially inspired by @nosebleedclub's June prompts, which can be found: Here.]

C.R. Dallas, 07/05/23, 12:08AM

#w #spilled ink #writing #july 4th #poetry #prompt based #nosebleed club #the nosebleed club

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bltzgore · 2 years

Text

Tw: non-con (not explicit), language, broken ribs, mention of sub human conditions, blood, mention of cuts and broken glass, I suppose mention of power dynamic, non human whumper, whumpee, or caretaker (everybody's super human)

Next ->

He hit the wall just a bit too hard and heard something crack. The air left his lungs too quickly for him to catch himself as he fell. He slowly started picking himself up but as he took his first solid breath he choked as pain raced through his chest. Breathing got harder, forcing him to cough sporadically, spraying the pavement with red. He was shaking, he could barely find the strength to keep from curling in on himself.

He looked up slowly, his gaze setting on his approaching foe. A well built man, armored in red blue and green, a mask that covered his face but not his hair, flying dark and free off the top. Street Name: Arch Fission. Power set: harboring a very dangerous rock of untold radioactive potential the man is his own battery. Super powering his sense, strength, and all around physical ability, plus channeling that much power through his hands into massively destructive beams.

To be honest he wasn’t sure how he got here. Fission was supposed to be a good guy, and while Link had to admit he wasn’t terribly well liked he was still a vigilante. He wasn’t technically a criminal.

It had all started with him getting a closer look at a building he had been staking out. He had been slowly putting an end to a rather big time arms dealer when all of a sudden he’d wound up head to head with Fission. He hadn’t known he’d been on the same case, and he tried to ask him about it when Fission had started beating him into the pavement. This was when things were starting to click. Fission wasn’t bringing the building down, and since he wasn’t trying to explain any sort of plan or giving him any sort of out he had really only one thing left to assume. Fission was serious about this fight.

He couldn’t back down. There was no running from this guy! But the longer this fight went on the more that seemed like it was going to be Link’s only option. He had seen Fission in action before, he understood the guy was powerful, but going head to head with him was a whole other matter entirely. His meager hand to hand combat skills hadn’t stood a chance. Now he was separated from his weapons and praying to black out on the cement before Fission actually reached him.

He shoved himself to his feet and raised his fists. The ground shifted right and left, but he shifted his stance a bit wider and stayed upright. Fission drove a fist straight into his nose, and another into his ribcage. This crumpled something else, the sickening crunch sent another blinding slash of pain through his head as he fell.

This time the pain didn’t stop and he couldn’t get up as quick. He started by trying to roll to his side, it was slow, and blood was starting to dribble from his mouth. He felt Fission’s hand on his shoulder, then was pulled off the ground.

“You know, it would be easier for me to just kill you here. Snap you in half or burn a hole right through here.” He stuck a finger hard enough into his chest to aggravate everything.

Link suppressed a groan, he reached up and got a shaky grip on Fission’s wrist. “Oh great, here comes the monologue. Watch out, here’s where I escape.” He wheezed.

Fission ignored it, “But, I’ve got to admit, I’ve felt awful repressed lately. I think you can help me with that first.” He dropped Link to the ground and got a better grip, this time on his neck, pinning him. His other hand went for Chain Link’s belt.

“NO!”

He managed a breath deep enough to jump start his muscles, grabbing onto Fission’s arm. He growled trying to pull it away, and actually starting to gain some ground. For a moment Fission let him, then growled and smashed his forearm down on Link’s ribcage and tightened his grip on Link’s neck.

Everything got hard to see as the pain made everything go white and the lack of air tried to make everything go black. Once his senses started to work again he could feel his hands gripped soundly above his head and places below his belt were cooler than they were supposed to be, indicating they were no longer below his belt. He tried to struggle, his back arching up against the ground, but Fission was there. His body physically blocking him, and the pain shooting right back in to force him still enough for it to pass.

“That’s right, you know your place don’t you? Below me. Dirty vigilante.” His grip tightened. “That fear, that hopelessness. You don’t know what you do to me. But go ahead, be a brat, I like it when they fight back. I like breaking ‘em.” He half laughed.

“Fuck you!” He tried pulling away again "Don't!” he growled, but he felt things go sharp and tears finally made it past his eyes, slowly down his cheeks silently thanking the powers that be that his helmet covered his face completely.

He wasn’t sure when it stopped. He wasn’t sure when he came back to himself choking on blood, cold, and alone. The first thing he managed was pulling his pants back up, but from there he wasn’t sure what to do. He felt numb. His mind was a scummy mish mosh of the memories from the past several hours.

The pain was still there, and growing. Whatever damage had been done in the fight, had obviously been exasperated by what had happened after the fight. Fuck. Where was Fission? What if he came back?! He needed somewhere to go, he needed pain meds. Where could he…? Elliot. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was his only choice.

He started to roll over, moving first to his knees. Shifting back he got one leg under himself and managed to get the other to cooperate as well. He coughed hard and wet, this time it caught in his helmet. It covered part of the visor, but he didn’t have the energy to focus on two things at once.

***

It wasn't elegant, a rock through a window was way below his usual caliber. He managed to climb through, the cuts from the glass adding to the assortment he was already hiding beneath the hoodie. He crumbled to his knees on the other side, he was having a hard time getting back up. As he stood his head swam, the wall kept him from going back down until it managed to pass.

He kept moving, he just had to get far enough into the base to get their attention. There was no telling who was around. He could only hope Elliot was the first to get to him. The others wouldn’t be as lenient. Any of the others would thrash him before throwing him out. Back on the street, back where... he wouldn't be caught again. She was here, she had to be.

He stumbled into the wall again, catching himself on it. Red smeared along the wall as he limped forward. He felt something dribbling down from the corner of his mouth in a steady stream. His thoughts raced back to who'd discover him first. He couldn't risk it being Tekkie or Raise, there's every chance they'd see an opportunity not an injury. He coughed hard again, the blood starting to slide out from under his visor. He smeared it before turning swiftly towards the sound of rapidly approaching foot falls.

"What's up with you fuckers?" he half announced, feeling his legs try to go out. Instead he raised his firsts and clenched his teeth. Steel and Ruby, Steel might kill him, Ruby would if she got overzealous. His vision started to disappear in patches just as Elliot joined them.

"Time for you to get lost." She cautioned, stepping ahead of the two. It wasn't a threat, it was a warning.

"Gladly," he managed, just as the room spinning and the throbbing in his inners became too much. He collapsed.

"Logan?" Elliot wasted no time in closing the distance. The only one who actually knew his name. The blood dribbling from his helmet finally became apparent, his breathing was shallow and almost irregular. "Fuck, he's in bad shape. Call medical-" That’s about where things faded out.

***

Logan woke up. His brain didn’t recognize where immediately. His brain didn’t remember that he had sought asylum, or the damage to his torso. He panicked, falling off the edge of the bed, swearing profusely at the pain before spotting Elliot as she knelt down next to him.

"Easy easy, you're ok. You're here. You're here with me." She didn’t touch him, she didn’t want to make him feel trapped.

It surprised him. That tone, that gentle, knowing voice that held his attention and somehow, his trust. He would never know how she managed that, how she could have two parts so at ends with each other. How was Shakedown, lethal hero, so comforting?

His breathing had picked up and every time his chest rose he felt his ribs bite at his lungs. Tears rimmed his eyes, the pain forcing his breathing faster, only in turn making the pain worse. An ugly cycle of a snake eating its own tail.

"Slow down." She soothed, "Easy breathing, not too deep, your ribs are cracked to hell."

He managed to shallow his breaths, swallowing the copper taste away, “I know.” He muttered, looking to her for the next step.

"Good, that's it. Now we're going to get you back on the bed, ok?"

He nodded, putting his hand on her shoulder. She hooked her arm under his and around his waist. Then slowly pulled him to his feet. She didn't stop even when there was a sharp sound from Logan. She set him gently back down onto the bed, and tried to guide his head back to the pillow, but he wouldn't have it. He sat up.

"Logan, don't fight me, you need to sleep. Someone beat you within an inch of your life, how the hell did you even manage to get here?... No. Why the hell did you manage to get here?" she asked.

All of a sudden he couldn't look her in the eyes. She noticed it right away, he was never shy about eye contact.

“I needed the medical shit.”

“Like any emergency clinic wouldn’t give you that. Plus the added bonus of no death threats. Why are you here?”

"I-" his voice failed him for a second, "I feel safe here." he borderline whispered.

She was quiet, shocked into it by the vulnerability, then sat down next to him on the bed. "C'mere." she gently wrapped her arm around his shoulders and held him close. "Who did this to you? What happened?" She could feel him tense.

"I got in a fight by a weapons depot. I couldn't handle him. He… I lost." His throat got tighter.

Elliot was quiet for a second. Now that he wasn’t giving her answers she was instinctively starting to look for them on her own. She could smell something, something familiar, it was a super human scent, she couldn’t quite place it though. In fights the smell was common in small patches on clothing and sometimes particular patches on skin. This time the smell was all over, his wrists, his throat, his waist. Her eyes softened. "What did he do?"

He couldn't answer, the tears just slid down his cheeks. He tried to choke the words out, "He-" it wouldn't. He couldn't. “He beat me to a pulp. That’s it.” His voice sounded strangled. He weakened, wavering, until she tugged him into a hug.

He didn’t want to tell her, she would respect him. She leaned down resting her nose in his hair. "You're safe now. I know it'll take a long time for things to seem it, but it's all going to be ok." She slowly drew her fingers through his hair. "Logan, who did this? Was it Rigor? Bar?"

He shook his head, and managed the name, "Fission."

She could feel her pupils narrowing, she had to try hard to keep her body from tensing, though she was sure she was failing in some places. "I'll never let him hurt you again." her voice had lost its gentle streak. He could hear the rage even so heavily repressed.

He wanted to ask her to stop getting worked up. Everything hurt, his head was swimming, he was sobbing. He needed her. He held tighter and she seemed to get the message. Her shoulders relaxed and she leaned down against the pillows and headboard. "Here, lay down, you need to try to get some sleep."

He managed to crawl up next to her, and she pulled him close to her, resting his head on her chest. "I'm watching over you." she soothed, rubbing small circles on his back.

Eventually he nodded off. She didn't leave. She couldn't have if she wanted to. She felt magnetized to him, Shakedown's instincts were getting stronger. Though this time it was rather helpful.

***

It was a couple hours later when Elliot got up. Shake down had mellowed enough for her to think about her own needs for a moment. She slid out from the bed and carefully let Logan’s head down onto the pillow, and headed for the door.

“Elli?” It was clear he hadn’t been awake long

“I’m going to get something to eat, want anything?”

“No.”

“You gonna be ok while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go eat.” It was kind of empty. It was a lie, he wanted her there, but he also meant it.

She stepped outside and closed the door carefully. She turned her gaze down the hallway ahead of her and locked eyes with her superior. She felt Caine building up momentum.

She decided to lead the conversation. “He’s no threat, we have to-”

"What the hell is he doing here!? What were you thinking!? Letting Chain Link in here! He could be after any of a million things in this base!"

"Fuck off. He was attacked. He came to us for help." She felt her muscles stiffen.

"He's a menace and we oughta get rid of him while he sleeps."

Shakedown snapped so hard Elliot felt like she was going to throw up. "Over my dead body!" Her body tried to throw her at him. She wanted to crack his skull against the wall.

Caine almost flinched, she clearly hadn’t hidden it as well as she thought. “What is this guy to you?”

She tightened her jaw, then managed to breathe out. “We were in the same camp.”

His eyes widened. “I d-didn’t know you were-”

“Caught by the ICD and treated like an animal until I was 15? Why wouldn’t I tell you that!!??”

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuckin’ should be.”

For a moment they stood in silence, Caine searching in vain for something he could say to turn the conversation away from this scab he hadn’t meant to pick. “Did you figure out who tore him up like that?” The only thing he could have possibly said to divert the heat.

Elliot nodded, as her rage remembered where it should have been going. “He gave me a name.”

“What name?”

“That’s where things get… difficult."

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whump prompt #prompt based #superpower whump #superhuman #tw noncon #Logan Ren/Chainlink #Elliot Riff/Shakedown #Arch Fission is a douche #superhero whump #hero x vigilante #tw language

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isabellehemlock · 1 year

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A Grecian Summer

Post canon ficlet featuring Stede and Ed playing dress up in Grecian costume as they attend a party on the coastline - things are soft and perfect, and yup, steamy :)

For The Playhouse Bingo row of prompts: inspired by a famous painting - historical au - summer - oral sex - flowers

Read the 3k+ Explicit fic right here on AO3

#ofmd #our flag means death #my ofmd art #ofmd art #ofmd fic #prompt based #the playhouse bingo 2023

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rangers-are-cool-moved · 2 years

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To Go Alone

For: Open | If you’d like it specified, ask Muse: Arathorn Meme: Recovering From Trauma Prompt: “Recovery is a process; it takes time and patience.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Recovery is a process, it takes time and patience.”

The snap, when it came, was a much needed RELIEF for the Ranger. And in some ways, it was a relief for many of the Elves to see it happen. For the tension and restlessness that had been plaguing him for months had finally dissipated all at once. “It’s been two years. I’m as healed as I’m going to get with my left eye permanently gone.”

There was a slow exhale and it caught the attention of the Master of Imladris. He knew the man was getting frustrated with being stuck in the valley. But given that he had lost half of his vision, Elrond didn’t want him going out alone. “Wait a few more days, then Elladan and Elrohir will have had enough of a break to travel with you.”

Arathorn sighed, pushing the rise of wild fury down with practised ease. “Elrond. I appreciate everything that you and your kin have done for me. But I am leaving. Tonight. Alone.” His voice was quiet but rough. “My people need me and no one, not even you, will stop me from going to them.”

The Dúnedain Chieftain watched Elrond, then closed his lone eye briefly and strode away. He had already said goodbye to his son and his horse, a quiet dappled grey mare was waiting patiently outside of the stables. Although he wished that his time in the peaceful valley hasn’t ended like this, he had the odd feeling that he was needed elsewhere.

No one had expected him to go through losing his eye and two months of his life unchanged. But tonight had shown that the 62 year old Ranger wasn’t letting anyone prevent him from reaching his kin. Not even their closest allies.

“Elrohir. Elladan.” Arathorn nodded to his friends, before nudging the mare gently and leaving through the entrance of the valley. As much as he loved Rivendell, he had been cooped up there for too long and that was never good. Not for someone who was used to wandering the North freely like he and his kin.

Despite his new permanent handicap, there was nothing stopping the sharp eyed man or his animal companion from taking off once they hit open land. Neither lost awareness of their surroundings but for the first time since his injury, he felt more like Arathorn, son of Arador, Chieftain of the Northern Dúnedain.

#father of the king :: arathorn #au :: arathorn lives #prompt based #when one door closes | another door opens :: starter #new muse

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egret-orchids · 2 years

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Wishes-HeroMari Short

A soft laugh. A sly smile. "Hey, Hero?" I ask. He looks at me with curious eyes. "Hm?" I lie down on the grass, looking up at the night sky. "The stars are so pretty tonight." I say, pointing up at the vast expanse of beauty. Hero lays down next to me, a hand under his head. "Yeah, they are!" he agrees. I gasp. "A shooting star! C'mon, Hero, make a wish!" I cry, like an excitable child. Hero chuckles. "Well, I'd wish that we were together forever." he replies. I put a hand to my heart in mock horror. "Hero!" I say, gently punching his arm, "Don't say it, then it won't come true!" He looks disappointed. "No worries, darling!" I reassure him. I wish that we could be together forever! I think. It's childish, but fun. I notice a small pink colour has creeped onto Hero's cheeks. "Aw, is my hero blushing?" I tease. Hero sighs, as his cheeks grow pinker. I giggle, closing my eyes. "You know, I wish that this moment could last forever." I say, smiling. I roll over onto my side, my head on Hero's bent arm. "Yeah..." Hero replies, closing his eyes as well. "I do too. I love you, Mari. So much."

"I love you too, my hero."

#hero omori #omori #omori fandom #omori hero #omori mari #mari omori #heromari #omori short #omori fanfic #omori oneshot #prompt based

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matildazq · 22 days

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Write the Year 2024—Week 15: Snap

I didn’t know what ephemerals were (or, rather, I didn’t know the name for them). There used to be a single, pale purple tulip that grew for about 72 hours out by our back gate. Now it’s gaudy pink hyacinth that stays around longer than it should. But I do love things that suddenly appear and disappear this time of year. This is a half-assed Novem; I am playing fast and loose with consonant…

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#Novem #Poem #Poetry #Poets & Writers #Prompt based #Write the Year 2024 #Writers Digest

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dumplingsjinson · 7 months

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List of “not-so-random suggestive and non-suggestive” prompts

“How was your sleep?” “Mm.. It was good. Better.” “Better how?” “Better because you’re here.” (THE WAY I GOT SO FLUSTERED WTF)

“That’s my girl/boy,” Character B murmurs in a hushed voice, stroking their fingers through Character A’s hair while Character A rests their head on their chest, trying to catch their breath. (THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT INTERNALLY, THE AUDACITY HE AUDACITIED??? WHAT THE FUCK??? EXCUSEEEE MEEEEEE??? BTW, SIR, HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS IN THE MORNING-)

“Fuck, you turn me on so much with the noises you make,” Character B groans, thrusting their hips up into Character A’s and Character A whimpering softly at that. (Okay so I added the fuck at the start because it’s hotter this way bUTTTT WKGKSKFS PLSSSSS I JUST- OH MY GOD, I think I just realised that dialogue to me is SO IMPORTANT LMFAOOO)

“There are two hot things in this room right now: you, and the temperature.” (LET ME BREATHE, DAMNNNN)

“Mmm, I’m gonna hog the bed so you can’t get on,” Character A murmurs, laying sprawled out on the bed. “That’s fine, I can just lay on you,” Character B says, making their way to the bed. “…Are you calling me a bed?” Character A questions as Character B gets on top of them, careful not to crush them under their weight. “Yeah, you're my bed,” Character B murmurs, snuggling close to Character A. (FUCKCKKCKXKDKKSKGKAKD HE’S JUST OUT HERE FLIRTING TO THE MAX WITH ME AND LEAVING ME SPEECHLESS TF)

“I told you my bed’s cozy,” Character B says, chuckling as they make their way over to Character A, who’s snuggled up under the covers. They pull the cover back and climb into the bed next to Character A, wrapping their arms around them. “And now it’s even cozier,” Character B murmurs into Character A’s neck. “Because you’re here?” Character A questions playfully. “Yeah,” Character B answers.

A laughter filled tickling play fight session somehow turning into them making out, turning into Character A straddling Character B, head thrown back in pleasure as they grind their hips against Character B’s while Character B holds onto their hips, thrusts matching the momentum of Character A’s movements.

Spending way too much time tickling each other, peals of laughter coming from them both as they both try to attack each other’s sensitive spots. (His laughter is so cute AND I REALLY MISS HIM PLS WJDSK)

Morning cuddles and kisses as sunlight spills into the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good once we get there, yeah?” (MY HONEST REACTION WAS LITERALLY “???” I JUST?? WHAT?? SINCE WHEN WAS HE- AND HIM SWEARING? HOT HOT HOT HOT WKGKAKS)

Character A taking Character B’s hand into theirs while they’re driving. “You can drive with one hand, right?” they ask with a little grin, and Character B chuckles and nods. “Of course I can.” (HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND IS SO HOT BYE)

Character B guiding the speed of Character A’s hips as Character A grinds against them. (can he PLEASE manhandle me-)

“Okay, I’ll let you tickle me wherever you want if you give me one kiss.” (He lied a few times AHAHA, dodged my attacks instead after I gave him his kisses bruhhh)

Character B lending their clothes to Character A since Character A’s staying the night. (The way I smelled like him AHHHH)

The soft “yeah?” Character B would mutter in response when they’re messing around with Character A and noises would fall from Character A’s mouth, involuntarily.

Stopping their play fight every now and again to kiss each other.

Character B flirting with Character A and Character A not knowing how to respond other than half groaning and half laughing and calling them insufferable (affectionately). (Like I said, I’m romantically constipated-)

Character B laughing every time Character A calls them annoying and insufferable whenever they flirt with them.

Character A leaning in to kiss Character B… And then using that opportunity to tickle them when Character B’s guards are down.

Them just laughing with each other at the dumbest shit until they’re out of breath; finding comfort and joy in each other’s company.

Character A teasing Character B with how ticklish they are on certain spots.

Character B tugging at the hem of Character A’s top, wanting to take it off, but Character A shakes their head and Character B immediately respects that by backing off a bit. (I’m including this because I don’t think people understand that any signs of no means no. Some people need to take notes for real)

“So… Are you going to stay over tonight?” “…Mm, maybe next time.” “You always say next time, though.” (EWLKNFWELN He really wanted me to stay, and I clearly folded so um pwnfewklnf)

“I’m sorry if I’m like… Slow with all of this? I’m not experienced with any of this, and I don’t know what I’m doing. And I don’t think I’m ready for… You know.” “And that’s fine. Like I said, we’ll take it slow; we’ve got all the time in the world to get comfortable with each other, hm?” (WHEN I SAY I WAS GOING WEKJFNEWJKNEWFLN WHEN HE REASSURED ME, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AHHH)

Character B climbing back into bed after taking their morning shower to get more cuddles in with Character A before they have to go to work.

“You can just change in here if you want.” (WO4HKLWFN THIS FUCKING MAN LMFAOOO, the way I didn’t listen and went to the bathroom to change because I’m still feeling too embarrassed to change in front of him even though he’s kind of seen me topless before)

Hugging each other a little tighter, and Character A mumbling, “God, I really don’t want to leave” before they part ways.

“The way you keep running around in my mind everyday… How dare you?” Character A mumbles. “Well, is there a problem with that?” Character B questions with a chuckle. (I’m bold for this one, praise me LKNEFKLNWG)

The constant check ins from Character B, to make sure Character A’s all good and well. (every prompt list has this because it’s something I’ll always fucking harp on about lmao)

Character B grasping Character A’s wrists so they’d stop attacking their ticklish spots, pulling them in for a kiss instead. (He did this SO MANY TIMES AND FAILED SO MANY TIMES AHAHA, I’m a sneaky menace)

Character A pulling the Spiderman kiss on Character B while Character B’s lying down. (I WANNA KISS HIM MORE FUCKSLKFNES’F)

Character A waking up in Character B’s clothes and in their bed, hair all mussed up and sporting a faint mark on their neck. (I think I uh… I think I like having marks on my neck?? Made by him, specifically, IDK wpeofnew;nf)

Get home safe! Love you lots and lots, Character B texts Character A. (THE WAY I SMILED WHEN I SAW HIS TEXT WHILE HEADING TO THE STATION AHAHA, it wasn’t even ten minutes since we parted and he sent me this and I was fangirling about it to my friends AHAHA)

“Aren’t you going to get up now? You gotta get to work,” Character A says, poking Character B’s side. “Mmm, five more minutes,” Character B murmurs, pulling Character A closer to them. (HE’S SO CLINGY AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHDFOEKNF)

Character A realising they might actually be falling in love, slowly but surely, with Character B. (YEAH SO THIS IS A REVELATION AND A HALF AND IDK HOW TO FEEL ABOUT IT)

#long post #based on personal experience 😮‍💨#so sorry for all of the commentary HAHAH #and yes before you say anything i’m living the fanfic life for you all LESNFNLK #cat guy chronicles #writing prompts #prompts #dialogue prompts #writing scenarios #otp prompts #suggestive prompts #smut prompts #fluff prompts #non-suggestive prompts

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nerdpoe · 5 months

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Clockwork sent Danny back in time, a few hundred years. Then he told him to take a nap.

He swore that the ritual chamber he'd transported Danny to was isolated, and that Danny wouldn't age.

But good goddamn, Danny needed some sleep. The kid is a baby ghost, and they're supposed to spend years forming.

With how powerful Danny is?

He's going to seriously stunt his growth if he doesn't go the fuck to sleep.

Dani can just sleep whenever she wants at Clockwork's place, but Danny can't take the rest he needs or he'll skip his entire mortal life. So; the timeless chamber for sleep.

And Danny...Danny's fucking tired.

Sleep sounds fantastic. He'll wake up in a few hundred years and feel refreshed.

Sounds great.

The chamber siphons ectoplasm from the surrounding areas, feeding his ghost half, which keeps his human half alive and fine.

It also radiates Realms energy, which can make any human who gets too close for too long a little insane.

Gotham is built on top of that chamber.

That chamber powers every single curse in Gotham.

Clockwork didn't tell Danny this, of course; but Danny's length of necessary sleep depended on how much Ecto his developing core got it's hands on, and normally it would have only been a one hundred year nap.

The curses siphoning off of it made it three hundred or so.

So when Danny finally wakes up, and the protections drop, he lets out a biiiiig stretch, yawns-and goes home. He feels rested! Awake! He finally got some fucking sleep!

Meanwhile, every single curse in Gotham breaks, all at once.

At the same time, the excess Ecto that the citizens of Gotham had been having leeched off of them? Suddenly it's staying with them, and their Liminality breaks through overnight.

It's chaos.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #i like to think reflective eyes and fangs and claws are base liminal traits #maybe some powers if ur exposed enough #there's quite a few people who have been underground for long periods of time in Gotham #one of them is the entire Batfam

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 5 months

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Danny wasn't sure what to do. Was this legal? He knew the bats were part of the Justice League and whatnot but surely they can't just pick him up off the street after he got into a brawl with some creeps trying to mug him!

Sure, Nightwing had jumped down to help and Danny, still in his living form with its crappy human vision, thought he was another mugger because of the dark and attacked him too.

Now he's sitting in the back seat of the batmobile with his hands in wierd bat handcuffs.

Was everything these guys owned bat themed? Yeah his parents put there last name in all the titles of their inventions but they had a brand to sell so it was excusable. Batman however, is clearly living out his bat shaped dreams. Usually Danny was all for the furrys doing thier thing, one of his best friends was a proud furry and Danny 100% supported him, but there was a line you don't cross and tall dark and fuzzy crossed it when he kidnaped one 14 year old Danny Fenton.

He couldn't Go Ghost right in front of Batman and Nightwing but he could use the one thing his mom made him take with him everywhere since he was a little boy.

His panic button.

It was powered by ectoplasm and could get through signal jammer with no problem. If he pressed the button his parents would drop everything to come save him. They made sure to put little sirens and flashing lights in thier own hazmat suits to make sure they didn't accidentally miss it. Sure they looked hilarious the few times he had seen it go off in his life but it was highly effective.

So he pushed the button and his parents were charging torward them in record time, the GAV playing chicken with the freaking batmobile. Suddenly his mothers voice came from the panic button, "Are you in the front of back, sweetie?"

"I, uh." He stuttered, looking up at the shocked face of Nightwing before answering, "The back."

"Perfect." He mother said darkly.

A trio of high mechanical whines filled the air and Danny didn't need to look through the windshield to know the buzz saws were out.

----

Bruce just wanted to know why Danny Fenton, youngest of the Fenton Family and son of Jack Fenton and Madeline Walker, two people whose marriage brokered peace between thier prospective mafia syndicate families, was doing in Gotham beating up low level thugs.

He was not expecting overprotective mad scientist parents.

#dpxdc #prompts #fanfiction prompts #let danny and Jazz be the unknowing heirs to mafia families please #it would be so funny #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #nightwing #bruce wayne #dick grayson #i chose maddies maiden name based on the fannon that shes related to Warden Walker #the thought that Warden Walkers family would either become or marry into a crime family when hes so...him...is hysterical to me #danny in the back seat: My mommy can beat up your daddy >:3 #danny is the ultimate little shit here

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writtenonreceipts · 1 year

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@jilymicrofics prompt #12 for january: wild

decided I wanted some best friends causing problems, hopefully I’ll end up building on this little thing with other prompts throughout the month/year and turn it into a best friend to lovers kinda deal! It’s pretty simply and basic though, lol.

~940 words

Let’s Cause Chaos

“Well, this is a terrible idea.”

“Probably.”

Lily rested her hands on her hips and stared at the empty wall before her. Beside her, her best friend looked utterly delighted at the impending chaos.

James. With his wild black hair and warm tan skin. His glasses, as always, were askew.

He looked between the buckets of paint on the floor and the wall before them, his grin widening further. James. Who looked for any excuse to throw caution to the wind and have a bit of fun if hedged the line of anarchy.

“Skeeter is going to kill you.”

“Most likely,” she agreed.

Her landlord, Rita Skeeter was a strange woman who generally preferred things a certain way, in perfect cookie cutter conditions. And while Lily’s lease agreement did say she could paint and decorate within means, she was beginning to wonder if the loud and bright yellow Lily had picked out would fit into Skeeter’s visions.

“She could kick you out,” James added.

“Then I guess I’ll become Mary’s problem again,” Lily said. She and Mary had lived together throughout college and while they were still close to this day, Lily was certain she’d found a ways to make lily disappear list on Mary’s computer. Mary denied any and all claims.

“Petunia’s gonna write you a strongly worded letter about this too.” James’ warning might have held more bite to it if his eyes didn’t spark with amusement.

“Pet doesn’t like going to other people’s houses,” Lily said. Her sister, who she really did love most of the time, had a whole slew of issues that Lily didn’t even want to think about. But…Pet and Skeeter were fairly similar in that area. They were both opinionated and hard-headed. Even with Petunia’s continued insistence that she liked to try new things. “Oh, hell, what if I do get evicted James?”

Lily spun to him, already talking herself out of this ridiculous plan to paint her apartment.

He, however, chose not to listen. Instead, James grabbed his paintbrush and dunked it in the bucket of yellow paint then promptly flung a thick splatter against the wall.

Yellow splashed in a perfect arc with splotches bleeding down to the tarp that protected the floor.

Lily gasped and smacked James across the chest. “What did you do?”

“You were talking yourself out of it!” James exclaimed. “New Year, new Evans, you made a list and everything.”

She gaped at him. “I was drunk and it was three in the morning.”

The New Year’s Eve party she’d thrown with Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas had been a bit wild and rambunctious, but also the most fun Lily had enjoyed in a while. Unfortunately, it also led to an excess of drinking which also made Lily start to think about life and her future and the general state of things which hardly turned out well. So, she’d drunk more which led to list making and drunken declarations of motivation that James was now not going to let her forget.

“Still counts,” James said. He then flung another bout of paint on the wall. “C’mon, Evans. You’ve talked about this for ages.”

Indeed, she’d wanted to paint her apartment ever since she’d moved in. She’d wanted it to be her space. Because she was officially living alone. Mary was doing a doctorate program and needed to live close to campus, Marlene was traveling Europe, and Dorcas was living with her girlfriend already. Lily was on her own.

James pointed his paint brush at her and a glob fell on the tarp. “You know you want to. You love painting perfect lines and finishing a project. Think about it. Lining up against the baseboards with one perfect swipe, knocking something off your resolutions list. You’re dying to do this, Evans, I can see it in your eyes.”

He was infectious in that way he grinned at her. His confidence was something she envied honestly, and Lily knew he was right. They’d been friends for years now and sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself. Even if he did on occasion drive her insane.

So, Lily grabbed the other paintbrush waiting for her and dipped it in the paint. She turned to the wall and flicked the dripping paint. It splashed over James’ arc with a satisfying splat.

Next to her, James laughed loudly when she gasped and stared at the wall then back at him.

“Is it wrong that that was oddly satisfying?” she asked.

“Hell, no.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon flinging paint at the wall until it was evident they actually had to try to make sure everything was even and well coated. And while it was only one accent wall in her apartment, Lily had to admit, the change felt good. Even better that James had helped her through the entire process. Not just in the painting, but encouraging her to actually go through with it.

That was the thing about James Potter--he may be entirely composed of caffeine and a wild nature, but he was also fiercely devoted to helping his friends.

Hours later when they ordered pizza and they were watching old reruns on her crummy tv, Lily decided that there were only a few people who would bother spending the entire day with her and she was grateful James was one of them.

#jily #jilymicrofics #james potter #lily evans #jily fic #jily fanfiction #prompt based #cute and fun

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