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lynne-monstr · 4 years

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Writers Month 2019 Day 15: First Time

shadowhunters, malec. requested by @magnusandalexander (like a year ago, but i finally got it done)

contains: light bondage, dumb banter

“I thought we’d try something new today,” is the first thing Alec says when he walks into the bedroom.

Dangling from his fingers is a set of handcuffs.

Even from his vantage point on the bed, Magnus can see they aren’t the flimsy play kind. They’re thick and sturdy. The real deal. He wiggles himself into a sitting position, delighted at the turn of events. “You remembered.”

It’s impressive considering Magnus himself barely recalls that one evening he got particularly drunk and went on a diatribe about the folly of cheap plastic handcuffs. He pauses as a thought strikes him. “Have you ever done this before?”

The slight shake of Alec’s head doesn’t detract from the confidence of his steps as he approaches. “First time.”

Magnus beckons him closer until he’s kneeling in full Shadowhunter tactical gear between Magnus’ legs on the bed “It’s my first time, too.” At Alec’s skeptical look, he stretches forward to press their lips together, “With you, Alexander. My first time with you.”

For all Magnus’ predilection towards jokes and deflection, this is neither. It doesn’t matter how many times his long life has gifted him with certain experiences, every first with Alec is something to be treasured. Alec makes him feel new all over in a way he’d nearly forgotten was possible.

Alec smiles against his lips. “Will these even work on you? You know, with your…” he makes a gesture with his hands that Magnus will insist to his dying day looks nothing like him doing magic.

“I don’t look like that.”

“You kind of do.” Alec cocks his head. “Really though, I’m curious.”

Magnus shuffles in place. “Yes and no.”

“Is your inability to give a straight answer a warlock thing or a you thing?”

It’s too good an opening to resist and in truth, Magnus doesn’t try very hard. “There’s nothing straight about me, darling.”

“That was bad.” With a laugh, Alec kisses him again. Magnus tilts his head, accepting his due. Alec has kissed him so many times in so many different ways, and he still gets a little thrill deep in his stomach every time he gets to have this. When Alec pulls away and he’s is free to speak again, he can’t help but reply, “What are you going to do about it? Lock me up?”

Alec licks his lips, the atmosphere in the room growing heavy. “Yes.” Not waiting for a reaction, he grabs Magnus’ hand and closes the handcuff around his wrist. The ratcheting sound echoes across the room. “For your crime of bad jokes, I sentence you to a night in captivity.”

Magnus’ breath stutters, and he can feel the rush of heat beneath his loose pajama pants. He doesn’t resist when Alec takes his free hand and secures the second cuff behind his back. They’re heavy on his wrists, solid and real. Magnus feels grounded and a little bit owned.

It doesn’t stop him from winking. The cuffs rattle softly against the sway of his shoulders. “It looks like I’m all yours.”

“I’m still waiting for an answer to my question about the magic.” The words are stern, but there’s a teasing lilt to Alec’s lips that puts Magnus at ease.

He settles back against the headboard, savoring the pull of his shoulder muscles that’s sure to turn into a delectable ache by the time the night is done. “Let’s see if you can get it out of me, Mr. Lightwood.”

Alec straddles his hips and runs his hands down Magnus’ bare chest. “You know I love a challenge.”

#shadowhunters #sh fanfic #malec fanfic #malec #lynne writes fic #handcuffs tag #writersmonth2019 #lol sorry anica it was a lovely prompt but here were are with dumb jokes and handcuffs #yes i realize that this is from last years prompt list and not this ones #but i didn't have any inspiration for this years so i polished up and finished my failed attempt from last year!#magnus bane #alec lightwood

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zombie-honeymoon · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hidan & Sasori (Naruto) Characters: Hidan (Naruto), Sasori (Naruto) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Universe, Poisoning, Drabble Summary:

Hidan suffers for his mistake of insulting Sasori's work.

#hidan #sasori #writersmonth2019 #akatsuki #akatsuki fanfiction #this one is better than this mornings #i think anyways #i hope kakuzu comes and gets hidan before sasori gets to him...

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 5 years

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Nobody Matters Like You | John Wick x Reader (Oneshot)

Setting Prompt: Accidental Baby Acquisition

Words: 1680

Fandom: John Wick

Warning: Mentions of domestic abuse and cheating

Summary: John is assigned to protect an executive and their family, only to discover that he was killed by his wife who he told to just disappear, but she ended up leaving a baby behind. Now the task was to look after the baby until everything blows over, but he doesn’t know how, so he goes to you for help. Title inspired by Rockabye by Clean Bandit Ft. Anne Marie & Sean Paul

John cursed under his breath, knocking a drink back as he sat in Aurelio’s repair shop. The assignment was supposed to be simple, protect the executive businessman and his family until his enemies were dealt with. Turns out, the guy was a massive douche that slept around and constantly beat his wife. When John reached their estate, the executive was lying face down in a pool of blood in the kitchen with his wife standing over him, gun in hand.

“I had to,” she whispered, “Please…”

John nodded, pulling out a dishcloth from the counter and handed it to her to wipe the blood off of her. “I’ll get this cleaned up. You do what you can to disappear,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I know it was your job-”

“It’s fine. Hurry.”

He called it in, getting a cleanup crew to deal with the mess in the kitchen. He stood to the side as they did their thing before paying them. When they left, he went back inside, planning out how he could make it like the executive went off the radar with his wife.

John began to set everything up, walking around to get an idea of what kind of man he was. He walked up the stairs and peeked through the open doors of the guest rooms until he reached the opposite wing where he presumed were the executive’s room.

He could hear the wife whispering to someone from one of the rooms. He crept forward, hand hovering above his gun at his waist, just to be sure. The closer he got, he realized that she was crying. It was a baby room.

“I can’t do this,” she cried, kneeling next to the baby’s crib, two small luggage next to her.

“You should be leaving,” John reminded her.

She jumped, wiping her cheeks and sniffed. “I… I never wanted children. Not yet, at least. Then, when I heard my husband had been cheating with me… one of the women that he slept with showed up to our doorstep and just left her. She’s not my child, but I’m not heartless enough to just leave her and I’m still not ready to take the responsibility of caring for a child while I’m trying to disappear.”

“Is there no one you can take her to?”

She shook her head sadly.

John sighed. “I might know someone. I’ll take care of it. Just hurry and leave.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, getting up on shaking legs before grabbing her luggage, sparing one last look at the baby, then left.

Now, it was just John and the baby girl who just started to stir in her sleep. What should he do now?

You were humming in the kitchen with a movie playing in the living room when you heard urgent knocking on your door. You set your knife down and made your way over, looking through the peephole. What the hell was John Wick doing here?

You opened the door for him, hands on your hips. “Now, what occasion brought you over… is that a baby?”

John stood at your doorway looking haggard as he carried in a baby sleeping on a baby carrier along with a few bags filled with baby stuff. “There’s more in the car,” he muttered, immediately turning once he put the baby carrier on the couch.

You stared down at the baby with wide eyes, then sifted through the bags that had baby diapers, baby food, toys, and books. John came back with a folded crib, a stroller, and two small duffle bags.

“Um, John, what is all this? Who’s baby is this? Why is that baby here? Why do you have them? Why did you bring them here? What-”

“(Y/n), we’re best friends, right?” John cut you off.

You took in a sharp breath. “You knocked someone up?” For some reason, that thought made you feel uneasy.

“No,” he answered quickly, “My client did.” You exhaled, relieved.

“And where’s your client? Was your task to babysit?” you asked sarcastically, waving a hand over to the sleeping baby.

“My client’s dead. There’s no one to take care of her. I trust you, so I brought her here.”

“O… kay. So…,” you exhaled slowly, trying to wrap your head around the situation you were thrown in. You scratched your head, looking around at your now crowded living room. “If you think I’m going to take care of this baby on my own, I will kick your ass. I can’t ask my friends for help with her because they’re going to ask where she’s from. I know nothing about taking care of babies. What are we going to do about her anyways? Keep her?”

John looked at the baby, then at you. “We’ll deal with that later. I can stay over if you want. Some of my clothes are still here, right?”

You clear your throat, looking over at the dirty laundry you had yet to wash, a few of his shirts and sweatpants buried in it after you have used them around the house and as pajamas. They were very comfortable and you or may not have smelled them to remind you of John when he was away working.

“Yeah, let me finish dinner while you sort all of this,” you gestured to all the clutter, “and put them in… I don’t know, my room?”

John sighed in relief. He didn’t feel good about taking the baby somewhere else anyways. He had been an orphan himself and he didn’t like the idea of leaving her in the system. You were one of, if not, the most trusted friends he had, so you were the first person he thought of.

As he set up the corner of your room for the baby while you cooked, you couldn’t help but think how domestic it all was. You shook that thought away, though. It wasn’t like that with him.

One month later, you got the hand of taking care of baby Joana, as you named her, while John practically lived with you if he wasn’t busy with work. He used to stay at his own house when he was busy with a task or were taking time to himself after he finished one. That was happening less and less as time went on. Even his dog would be left with you to help watch over Joana.

You were sitting on the playing mat with Joana when John came home. Joana had to work on her crawling and rolling, both of which she only managed a little. At first when you put her on her back, she would try to roll, but stopped midway and lied on her side. Now, she could roll onto her stomach, but not onto her back. Crawling was another thing, too. She managed to crawl an inch, but instead of going forward, she would keep turning in a circle. Maybe she was copying Dog, who’d spin around before he lies down.

John watched the wholesome scene before him, patting his dog’s head as he leaned against the doorway. You were reluctant to look after the baby, but now you enjoyed Joana’s presence. You said that his help made a big difference, as caring for one baby could be stressful.

You patted at the space in front of you, encouraging Joana to crawl forward. She giggled, trying to coordinate her limbs.

“Come on, sweetie, you can do it,” you told her with a smile.

Joana frowned, crawling forward one inch, two inch, three inch, until she was right in front of you.

“Good job, Joana,” John said, taking off his shoes and knelt next to you.

Joana giggled, wiggling in place. You scooped her up and placed her on your lap as Dog came over. John swallowed, feeling his throat tightened seeing you and Joana smile at him with his dog wagging his tail. It was like something from a dream. A dream that he never knew possible when picked up work again after Helen was gone. It was all peaceful and normal.

“Look who’s home, sweetie?” you cooed, bouncing her on your thigh. It was your turn to giggle as Joana pulled a frowny face, much like John’s when he was serious. “So how was work, sweetie?”

John smirked. “Sweetie?” he teased.

You shot him a glare, your cheeks heating up at your slip. “It’s a habit. I’ve been talking to Jo and Dog all day and I call them sweetie,” you explained, avoiding his eyes.

He chuckled, but didn’t tease any further. “Well, I was actually thinking of retiring again. I have more than enough money for us to get by and maybe I can buy us a bigger house,” he said.

“Us?” you teased back, earning a glare from John. You grinned, stopping your bouncing and had Joana lean against you. “It’d be nice to have a bigger house, but does that mean that we’re actually keeping her?”

John shrugged. “Why not? You like her and she likes you. We’re both getting a hang of caring for her. Her father’s enemies had stopped looking for her and his wife, so she’s safe.”

You stared down at Joana who was getting drowsy. “You think I’ll be a good mother to her?” you asked John softly.

“You already are,” he assured you, leaning forward to kiss your head.

You closed your eyes, sighing in content. “John, I-”

“Hold that thought, I’m going to shower,” he said, standing up. Dog wagged his tail and followed his human around the house until John turned to him. “Stay by (Y/n) and Joana and protect them, okay?” Dog made a noise, turning back to sit in front of you.

John made his way through the room, your shared room, rifling through his side of the dresser drawer, tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper with your clothes, and grabbing his scrubber. This was practically his home. Walking through that door and seeing you with Joana and Dog, he felt like he was home.

His new home is all that mattered now.

#writersmonth2019 #John Wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagines #oneshot #keanu reeves imagines #Keanu Reeves #tempted to write more dad!john wick

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morganeuk · 5 years

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Good Omens: Colours

Summary: Az invites Crowley to his bookstore for the first time.

https://writersmonth.tumblr.com/post/185454834074/prompt-list

(one-shot, 8th prompt: colour)

"What do you think? Isn't it scrumptious!" Aziraphale is walking around, showing off his new bookshop to Crowley.

The ancient carpet's deep colours, the dark woods of the shelves and floor, everything has been chosen to enhance the books' muted tones. Overall, an exquisite canvas against which the reds, the oranges, the warm browns of the spines, as well as Az's cream attire, sparkled.

The Demon, in his customary black, smiles indulgently. "It is perfect, Aziraphale, just perfect." Letting his fingers slowly caress the shelves as he read the books' titles, he is suddenly shy, as he realizes how personal a moment this is for the Angel. He saunters casually over to where his friend is waiting for him at the back of the store and his heart somersaults when he sees the cosy nook Aziraphale has created in his private quarters.

It is easy to imagine many nice evenings, with a small fire, a good book and a glass of wine. Just the two of them, alone and away from all the scheming around them. Pressing a hand on his back to get his attention, the proud owner of this little paradise asks timidly, "and now, Crowley, a glass of wine to celebrate my new commercial venture! Red or white?"

"With pleasure, my friend, red please."

The fact that it was more a place where Aziraphale stored his own collection, than a moneymaking venture was, of course, never acknowledged by either of them.

If you are curious, the others in that series are on AO3

@gemennair this is lovely!

Beta read by notjustmom <3

#writersmonth2019 #Good Omens #drabble

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themaevethcometh · 5 years

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Homerun Summer

After graduation, Ryan finds himself at the East High baseball diamond reflecting. Someone else finds him there, too.

Written for writer's month day 7: sports

I’ve been in a HSM kick recently, so this happened.

Read on AO3

Ryan looks over the baseball diamond, basking in the glow of the sunset. Graduation has come and gone, soon to be a tiny blip in his life, and now he's the only one left hanging around the school. He had wanted to spend some time in the theater by himself, without Sharpay's suffocating presence of the energy of any other student. He had to have time to say goodbye. Now that that’s done, he’s taking a moment to collect himself at a place that he never actually got to play.

It's strange to consider that he's walked through the halls of East High for the last time as a student, and possibly his last time ever. As turbulent as his high school years were, they were a significant part of his life, and it's strange to consider that he'll soon be across the country instead of in the desert. If all goes as planned, he'll choreograph for Broadway someday. That means that he'll only be back in New Mexico for family visits. New York is going to be his permanent home.

He wonders if people at Juilliard have as much school spirit as those at East High. He supposes that it isn't going to be the same kind. There are no school sports there, and the East High school spirit is almost fully centered around being a Wildcat on a team. As much as Troy's time with the theater department made the whole school more inclusive and finally put clubs and the arts in the mind of the student body as a whole, basketball still reigns supreme. Not even the baseball team, which Ryan happens to know had an amazing season this year, comes close to touching the notoriety of the basketball team. Not even when one of the best baseball players also happens to be the second star of the basketball team.

"Didn't think I'd find you here, Evans," said star says, breaking Ryan out of his reverie.

"Shouldn't you be in the gym, Danforth? I thought the baseball diamond is reserved for dancing now," he replies. Chad flops down next to him on the bench, sprawling lazily in a way that portrays all of the confidence and swagger that Ryan wishes he has.

That isn’t to say that Ryan doesn’t have confidence. He definitely does, and he knows how to strut better than anyone on America's Next Top Model, but Chad wears the comfort that he has in his own skin differently.

It's undeniably attractive, to be honest.

"I saw you at some of our baseball games," Chad says. "If you wanted there to be dancing, you should’ve been playing out here with me."

"You know I chose theater a long time ago," Ryan says, heart doing a slight flip. "Baseball is fun, but it got hard to do both at the same time, and I wanted to excel, not be average at both. A jack of all trades is a master of none, after all."

"Better than being a master of one."

Ryan looks at him out of the corner of his eye.

"You don't get into Juilliard by being mediocre at baseball."

Chad shrugs.

"If you say so. Congrats, by the way."

"Thanks."

"You really deserve that. You and Kelsey both. The musical wouldn't have been anywhere near that level without you."

"Well, your dancing deserves some credit."

Chad laughs, loud against the empty field. It's a nice sound. Ryan heard a lot of it the past summer, and it's unfortunate that they both got so busy in the school year. They didn't quite loose touch, but there are times when Ryan wishes that they spoke more. They saw each other every day in class, and sometimes at rehearsal, and Ryan may have specifically been watching for Chad when he would make an appearance at a sporting event (not that Chad ever had to know), but he would have liked more than that. Chad is cute and fun, and Ryan never got to explore it as much as he would have liked.

"Are you going to hold that dancing thing over me forever?" Chad asks. Ryan quirks an eyebrow and tries to contain his smile.

"Maybe. You did make a very convincing argument when you pranced to first base during that game last summer. I saw some twirls. It barely took any teaching to get you dancing like a pro in the shows."

"Well, it's easy when you have a good example to follow."

Ryan might be blushing. Hopefully Chad can't see it in the light of the setting sun. Maybe he can blame it on sunburn, even though he would never allow one to form. He cares about his skin too much.

"Don't be getting bashful on me now, Evans. Where's that signature family arrogance?" Chad knocks their shoulders together, and if anything that makes it worse.

"Sharpay has all of the arrogance right now. Please check back later if you're still interested."

Chad chuckles again, and then silence falls between them. It's comfortable. More comfortable than maybe it should be, given their history.

Of course, now Ryan is thinking about his unfortunately persistent crush, and changing clothes with Chad after last summer's baseball game "in a show of goodwill and to go along with tradition."

He'll get over the crush while he's in New York. But right now, he doesn't really want that.

He wants to see Chad a bit more over the summer. Play a few baseball games. Grab dinner sometimes. Maybe, if he's allowed, hold a hand.

It's silly, because Chad is just another dumb jock and the world is full of those, but none of the other ones can meet Ryan challenge for challenge like Chad can, and none of the other ones have that shade of brown eyes.

Of course, Chad is straight. Ryan has no reason to believe otherwise. Sharpay has told him multiple times that he can't keep reading into each prolonged eye contact in homeroom or each slightly suggestive comment. He knows this, but it can be hard to remember.

The sunset sky makes his hair look more like a halo. Chad is already looking over at him when he turns.

"You busy this summer, Evans?" Chad asks.

"Just hanging around Lava Springs," Ryan says. "Why, you want a job there again?"

"Absolutely not," Chad says. "But I wouldn't mind some sort of rematch. Maybe a few of them."

Ryan looks at him, considering, but there's only good humor in his eyes, not any sort of malicious teasing or joking.

"I'd be down," he says. "But that's a lot of sports for someone who's going to Juilliard. Since it doesn't sound like I'd get anything out of it besides the pleasure of your company, how about this: I'll give you that rematch if you go swing dancing with me."

"Swing dancing? Evans, I thought you knew me better than that," Chad says, shaking his head.

"You don't dance?" Ryan asks. "I think we both know that's not true, but you can prove it to me. Swing dancing, Thursday. I can pick you up. If it's awful, you never have to do it again. We'll play baseball all summer."

"Is this a challenge or a date?" Chad asks. Ryan looks at the hint of a smile on Chad's face and wonders if he's been in denial this whole time. Sharpay, after all, has never been shown to have accurate gaydar, as much as she tries.

"Why can't it be both?" he asks. Chad's face splits into a full grin and Ryan's breath almost catches, but he tries to maintain his cool cover.

"Alright, you're on," Chad says. “Thursday. Swing dancing. You can pick me up in your fancy car and we’ll see where the night takes us.”

Ryan's smile can't be contained anymore, and even though he tries to turn away to hide it Chad laughs and bumps their shoulders together again.

If swing dancing and the baseball game after go well, maybe this isn't going to be the end of sports for Ryan. Maybe he'll have another reason to come back to Albuquerque.

As the sun sets over the baseball field, Ryan sends a quick thanks up for organized sports and that stupid Wildcat spirit. He got a date with one of the cutest guys in school because of it, so this summer is looking up.

#writersmonth2019 #high school musical #chyan #My writing #maeve posts

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johnlockedinwarstan · 5 years

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Prompt Colors

Roses have different meanings depending on what color they are. The most famous is the red rose symbolizing romance, passion and desire. That was not what Sherlock Holmes felt for Molly Hooper.

Red wasn't a Molly color. Red was a The Woman color. Red is danger and seduction. No Molly is a concerned look, a shared joke, and a love you don't realize until it's to late. Molly was sunshine yellow.

Sherlock left the boquet outside her door. She wouldn't want to talk to him now. She might not want to talk to him ever.

Molly climbed the stairs to her flat. Outside the door was a dozen yellow roses with pink tips. Nestled inside was a card. It read, "It's true for me, too. S.H." A single tear fell from Molly's eye as she entered her apartment. She would need to find a vase.

...

Author's note:Yellow roses with pink tips mean friendship growing into love. Yellow means friendship while pink means love and appreciation.

For the @writersmonth prompt colors.

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #sherlolly #writersmonth2019 #writers month 2019

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superbataddicted · 5 years

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Writer's Month 2019

Day 31 Prompt: Sharing a Bed (Warning: Takes place on an alien planet. Made up alien facts.)

Fandom: Superbat, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Superman/Batman

Writer: batzmaru65

The two superheroes eyed where they were going to sleep tonight with mixed feelings. Batman was struggling not to scowl, out of respect for their hosts while Superman was trying hard not to grin at the unexpected outcome.

Turning to their hosts, Loquill and Enriquill, Batman enquired, “May I humbly seek a re-arrangement of our sleeping accommodations? In our culture, we do not have the habit of sharing our bed.”

The two androgynous aliens stared up at the ambassador from Earth-One, appalled and horrified.

“But sires, aren’t you partners?” Locquill asked, clutching Enriquill hand in terror.

To the Tainon, it was unthinkable to stay apart from their partner – the very partner that they were bonded with once they could walk. Their planet was inhabited by dangerous predators which viewed the Tainon as a delicacy. So having your partner with you was a matter of life or death and the paired aliens were always together even when in sleep.

Before Batman could continue speaking, Superman quickly intervened, bowing low, hands clasped together into a fist and held at waist level.

“A thousand pardons. My partner’s translator has broken down...” Superman shot a warning look at Batman who had tsked at his words, “What he means is that he is eternally grateful for the trouble you have taken to accommodate us, providing such a beautiful place at such short notice.”

Superman gestured at the huge tree branch the four of them were standing on. Crafted to resemble a living quarter without walls and a roof, there were some stools and a table placed in the middle, all low and small due to the alien’s size. Other than that, the only other piece of furniture was hanging from two smaller branches protruding from the largest tree the Earthlings had every seen.

Both Loquill and Enriquill visibly relaxed at Superman’s words, relief shining in their six eyes – each of them having three.

“I see, a misunderstanding then,” Enriquill smiled looking both beautiful and handsome at the same time, “We are honoured to be able to continue playing hosts to such wonderful company. If there is no further need of our services, we shall leave you to your rest then.”

Bowing in the same manner as Superman did earlier, the two Tainon took their leave, flying up and disappearing into the green foliage that formed the crown of the tree.

Once they were out of sight, Batman turned on Superman.

“If you have not interrupted, I’ll could have gotten one of us to sleep in the Javelin.”

“And risk ruining the diplomatic mission?” Superman frowned as he took off his cape before sitting on the stool so that he could remove his boots, “They allowed us into their space because we’re supposed to be partners in their cultural context. Your request will have only jeopardize their goodwill towards us.”

Batman sucked in a breath to rein in his frustration. Deep down, he knew Superman was right. But...he eyed that piece of furniture hanging from the two branches and shook his head. How in the world were they supposed to share that! A hammock made from a delicate gossamer material that would be quite spacious for two small-sized aliens. However...Bruce looked at himself and then at Superman and his eyes widened in shock.

“What are you doing!”

Superman paused, an eyebrow arched.

“Going to bed,” he jerked his head at the hammock, dressed only in his underwear.

“Put your fucking clothes back on!” Batman spluttered, heart racing a little as he averted his eyes from Clark’s excellent physique.

“Don’t you know? I sleep in this manner,” Superman purposely walked right up to Batman, making it hard for him to avoid looking at him unless Batman stared right up at the sky.

“Need help taking yours off?”

“No!” Batman turned his back on him but before he could take a step to get away, Superman had grabbed him by his waist and flung him right into the hammock.

Gasping and struggling to find his balance as the material bobbed and swayed, he managed to sit back up when an addee weight caused the hammock to swing wildly once again.

“Get off me!” Batman tried to push Superman off but it was hard to find purchase in the confining space made of a soft flexible material. Superman, on the other hand, was making use of his ability to float to keep himself steady.

“Don’t be shy,” Superman grinned as he began unfastening the hidden clasps that will unlock the suit and reveal the man he had liked for the longest time.

“I’ve heard that Bruce Wayne sleeps in the nude and since we’re still on our mission, let’s make some noise to further foster goodwill among the Tainon.”

(Inspired by all the Sci-fi fantasy I've read and seen, like Avatar. I also just want Clark and Bruce to share a hammock.

Thanks everyone, especially those who read all my fics since the start of Writer's Month. This is the last one of the lot and it's been fun doing this.)

#writersmonth2019 #writersmonth #superbat #clark kent x bruce wayne #superman x batman #clark x bruce #batman x superman #Day 31 Prompt: Sharing a Bed #wm: day 31

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thewhump · 5 years

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“Such a pretty face, it’d be a shame to mess it up.” Now that's something someone would say to Tony ^o^ WinterIron

Writer’s Month Day 2: hurt/comfort

***

“Such a pretty face, it’d be a shame to mess it up.”

Tony wanted to snark back, say the duct tape was already ruining his perfect goatee, but that was exactly what earned him the duct tape gag in the first place. He settled on glaring, trying to act nonchalant, pretending the whole situation wasn’t getting to him.

The truth was, getting kidnapped was no more fun than it ever was, no matter how many times it has happened to him and how he had almost gotten used to it. And really, did it had to happen now? Things were just getting quiet and settling in, and Tony wasn’t in the mood for a crazy ex.

Ex-employer. Apparently, the guy had claimed Tony stole his ideas, which, really, people need to learn to read their contracts before they started working somewhere.

Not that Tony did. Unfortunately, the guy was competent enough he somehow hacked the lower systems and arranged a lovely meeting that was enough to kidnap Tony. And now Tony was sporting a black eye, was gagged, tied to the heating pipes - unfortunately, it was winter, and they were working, which, ouch, as well as barefoot.

Which, it was winter, and he was in some cold basement. Not fun.

Tony’s hands burned, his feet were freezing, his cheek stung from the blows the guy kept adding to his bullshit monologue and above all, Tony was late for his first date with Bucky. UNACCEPTABLE.

Tony closed his eyes, bracing himself for yet another slap, silently wishing maybe he’ll finally get knocked out, but the hand he saw move to strike never came, a heavy thud heard instead.

“You’re late, doll.”

If Tony wasn’t gagged, he would have laughed.

***

Turns out that post-kidnapping comfort makes for a great first date.

Bucky would certainly disagree but Tony had enough injuries in his life and recovery had never been as sweet as now. Having a doting boyfriend change his bandages, comforting warmth of their bed, breakfasts in bed, his tablet always at hand if he wanted to work and a personal super soldier pillow.

“Maybe I should get kidnapped more often if that’s the result.”

Maybe it was supposed to be a joke but if the look Bucky gave him was any indication, the only way Tony would be getting tied up in the future was if Bucky bound him to a bed.

And Tony was entirely alright with that.

#writersmonth2019 #winteriron #takaraphoenix

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galaxy-charm · 5 years

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Sandcastles

Writer's Month 2019 day 22's Prompt: Summer

Summer wasn't quite the hunter thing, the Winchesters knew, since they've only been to beach exactly two times in their busy lives.

When Team Free Will had took a day off, Dean got to experience basking under the blazing hot sun for the third time (which in his opinion, was a major accomplishment). As antipated, the elder hunter arrived more than prepared for their outing, sporting an unbuttoned, gray t-shirt, striped beach shorts and a pair of expensive sunglasses. Sam took a glance at his brother and huffed humorously, before turning his attention back on his novel.

A smile on his face, Dean ignored the awestruck stares of his fellow beachgoers and strutted down onto the sand, barefoot, and plopped down next to his brother's spot in the shade. He shoved an elbow in Sam's general direction, and showed off the basket he brought with him.

"Hey, Sammy, look what I've got."

Raising an eyebrow, Sam answered uncertaintly. "Sandcastle toys?"

"Yeah," Dean enthused, with a little too much childish excitement for a grown man. "Isn't it awesome?"

There was a beat of silence as Sam considered speaking the truth. "Uh, yeah sure. Pretty cool," he shifted uncomfortably at the lie, and added. "You should know, Dean, that we aren't really six an—"

But Dean cut him off, lifting the basket into the air upside down and letting its content pour out from the container with a loud rattle. Surveying the equipment on the sand before him, Dean gingerly picked up a shovel and a bucket. He grinned at Sam and said. "Dude, I've wanted to do this my whole life."

Sam half-winced, but nodded. "You...you do what you gotta do, man."

Then, Dean was off, sprinting through the sand and plowing straight through the water, bucket swinging and clattering in his hands. He bent down, trying to get a pail of water, but he must have misjudged the height of the waves, for the next thing he registered was the salty sea splashing at his eyes. Cursing, he yelped and jumped away.

Despite himself, Sam laughed and shook his head. Dean might be the older one in terns of age, but he knew his elder brother was always the youngest at heart.

"It's a miracle," said a voice from his right. "That Dean's existed for so long."

Sam swiped his gaze to his side, and spied Castiel. The angel was smiling fondly as well, dressed in similar beach attire as the brothers, save the matching pairs of sunglasses.

"Yeah, I can see where you're coming from." Sam agreed, watching as Dean surfaced from his battle with the ocean and headed back to them.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean shouted, breathy but exhilarated, from about twenty meters away. "You look great! Wanna build sandcastles with me?"

Castiel exchanged a glance with Sam, but agreed. "Of course!"

The angel made his way down, but when he glanced back, he noticed Sam was smiling. The soft, caring, I-love-you-two-idiots smile, and his cheeks caught onto a soft glow. Castiel smiled back and carried on nonetheless.

"So, Cas," Dean said seriously, gesturing with his hands when they've finally settled down. "We're gonna build a castle, you with me?"

Castiel resisted the urge the roll his eyes. "I think I can manage that."

"Good, because this castle is gonna be badass!" Dean said, clapping his hands together and setting off to work.

From time to time, Castiel would chime in with his suggestions, like maybe a wall there, another tower on the eastern front, or a larger moat. Dean would nod, in all earnesty, as he perfected his sandcastle.

Time streamed by quickly, and before they've come to realize it, the sun had already begun to set in the horizon. It was time to go.

"Alright, alright, Cas," Dean said, the words blurring in his excitement. "Just one more touch, and......TADA! You like it?"

Castiel surveyed the castle, which wasn't much.

"I love it, Dean," he said, for he knew how much effort the hunter had painstakingly put into creating his craft. "Very much."

Leaning in, Castiel placed a kiss on Dean's cheek. The hunter flushed red and froze still, so Castiel decided to use the opportunity to wade into the water, feeling the gentle rock of the waves against his being. Oh, he had missed this.

"Only on the cheek?" Dean complained. "Man..."

Castiel beamed. "If you require more, you'll have to aquire me."

With that, he dove beneath the water, muscles working to get him far from the shoreline and fast. Castiel was an angel, and he had studied navigation in the ocean many eons before, already perfecting the skills. Pitifully, he admitted that Dean stood no chance.

So he slowed down just a little, until after five minutes of persisted swimming, had the hunter caught up to him. It was quite a feat for an average human.

"Cas," Dean said between forceful breaths. "We exorcise, not exercise!"

Castiel felt him mouth turn up at the ends, and brought his lips to Dean's, effectively shutting the hunter up. He could feel Dean melt in his touch and shift closer, embracing the angel around his sides.

"I love you, Dean."

The hunter brought them together again, and pulled away, smirking. "I know. I love you too."

It was a miracle how they got here in the first place, entangled in one another, observing the sunset with the wind in their faces and messy, windswept hair. A miracle indeed.

—

Taglist (pleas let me know if you wish to be added/removed 😄): @hellfire37, @skittles-rainbow-cat, @legendary-destiel, @kiraawrites, @all-or-nothing-baby, @thesereneseason

#destiel #supernatural #my writing #writersmonth2019

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lynne-monstr · 4 years

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Writers Month 2019: Day 17: Accidental Baby Acquisition (malec)

requested by anonymous

(note that i cannot write children so no actual human babies will appear in this.)

summary: In the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Magnus only hopes Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about the cause of his death. He knows for a fact more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

ao3 link

“Alec, no!” Magnus lunges, grabbing Alec’s sword arm before he can attack.

Alec twitches beneath his hand but doesn’t shake him off. Later, Magnus will marvel that he’s learned to trust Alec so deeply he'd put himself in the path of a Nephilim weapon without hesitation. But that’s a thought for later. For now, he’s more concerned about what he’s come home to.

It had been such a nice date night, but it already feels like a distant memory.The perils of being a powerful warlock with an equally powerful boyfriend.

All the lights in the loft are off save for the entranceway at their backs. In front of them, the living room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city’s light pollution filtering in from the balcony windows. Everything is wreathed in shadow. Magnus feels the weight of his glamour dropping and the room sharpens into the full spectrum of night. Which is when he sees it. In the darkened depths of the living room, there’s a darker smudge under the coffee table.

He and Alec aren’t alone.

There’s something in the room with them, lying in wait beneath the furniture. Magnus tastes the air and the hair on the back of his necks stands up. With his natural vision, he can see what his instincts warned him of, what Alec saw with his heightened Shaowhunter senses. There’s a creature pressed tight against the far leg of the coffee table. But he also sees why he stopped Alec’s attack. The creature is huddled as far away as it can get without leaving the shelter of the furniture.

It isn’t attacking, or preparing an ambush. It’s cowering.

Something that feels like a memory curdles in Magnus’ stomach. He hates to see anyone or anything cower.

Beneath his grip, the muscles of Alec’s forearm twitch. He shifts on the balls of his feet but doesn’t interfere. Warmth expands in Magnus’ chest. Alec’s battle instincts must be screaming but he’s willing to yield to Magnus’ expertise in this particular area.

Edom.

There’s an Edomei in their home.

The Edomei is curled into a ball of pitch-black scales. Its very presence warps the light around it, making the space under the coffee table darker than it should rightfully appear. A pair of equally black wings shoot from the creature's back. The wings look wrong—crooked and grotesque, deformed and hanging in ways that make Magnus shift in discomfort.

“It’s injured.” Alec’s voice is soft, though his body remains a coiled spring. “What’s it doing here?” he adds, keeping his voice low, as if the thing can understand English.

Maybe it can. Magnus has never looked too deeply into the native inhabitants of his homeland aside from strengths, weaknesses, and hunting patterns. The only thing he knows about these creatures is how to kill them.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I invited it over for drinks,” Magnus whispers back. He swallows down the rising dread at the reminder of the place he once called home. He’d prefer to forget this part of his heritage but here it is, not even on his doorstep but inside his home.

Alec, his wonderful Alexander, attempts to lighten the mood. “Well, you did once tell me you made the best cocktails in North America. Maybe word spread.”

Magnus lets out a silent huff, and gives Alec’s arm a squeeze. It never fails to amaze him that Alec can read him so well. He clings to the comfort as he makes his decision on what to do with his uninvited guest. His logical mind says to kill it. The rest of him balks at the thought of killing a child. Because that’s what this is, a tiny, young Edomei that somehow found its way to his loft.

Slowly, he releases his grip on Alec and takes a tentative step forward.

The Edomei under his coffee table backpedals in a flurry of wings. It makes it about three steps before listing off balance, stumbling onto its side with a pained cry. Its wings flap uselessly and a thready screech fills the air.

Magnus is moving before he can convince himself what a terrible idea this is.

“It’s okay,” he says, walking forward with small, tentative steps.

It was never really a decision at all. A child is a child, regardless of species. He only hopes that in the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about his cause of death. He knows for a fact that more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

Behind him, Alec keeps pace, hovering at his shoulder. His unsheathed blade glints in the evening light but he doesn’t raise it.

As Magnus gets closer, he can hear the Edomei breathing in weak squeals. Its scaled chest continues to heave, faster and faster as he kneels beside it, a string of nonsense reassurances spilling from his lips in the same low, hushed tones that work well on all types of children.

Around them, the loft is perfectly still.

The eyes that meet Magnus’ gaze are deep red with no pupil but he gets the sense of being studied by a predator. A very small one in need of help, but a predator nonetheless. Magnus doesn’t flinch. This tiny Edomei is hardly the only predator in the room.

After a beat, it lowers its head.

The urge to let out a breath is palpable but Magnus resists. No showing weakness now or it may be the last thing he does.

He leans in for a closer look. The small dragon-like creature isn’t just dark in color but filthy. Caked between the scales are layers upon layers of dirt and grime. Magnus wrinkles his nose. It must have dragged itself through half the gutters of Brooklyn in search of shelter.

“Alright, let’s patch you up. This rug is a lost cause but we can still salvage the hardwood if we work fast.” There’s no response, which is a shame but ultimately not a surprise. He’s not sure if it’s because the Edomei doesn’t understand human language, or because the denizens of his father’s realm don’t have a sense of humor. Either is equally likely.

Raising a hand, he prepares to summon a ball of magic to his aid.

“Magnus be careful,” Alec interrupts before he can cast the spell. He’s in a defensive stance at Magnus’ shoulder, blade poised to plunge into the Edomei’s heart at the slightest provocation. “You don’t know why it’s here. It could kill us both the moment you heal it.”

They both remember the battle at the beach, the sheer amount of devastation even a single Edomei can wreak. Even a small one—practically a baby, Magnus realizes with an ache—is incredibly dangerous.

“It’s a child, Alexander. It’s here because it has nowhere else to go.”

Alec’s eyes go a little bit soft, his blade slowly lowering though he doesn’t drop his guard. His Alexander has always had a soft spot for the young.

“It must have come through that portal and escaped detection all this time. Unsurprising, considering its size. When it got hurt and tried to go home, the portal no longer existed and there was no magic for it to follow back to Edom. I suppose it found my magic instead and traced it here.” Magnus swallows down the memories of filthy alleys and rancid food and the absolute knowledge that no one in the world cared for him enough to save him. “An easy mistake to make, considering where my magic comes from.”

A warm hand settles on his shoulder. “You’re nothing like him, Magnus.”

“I know,” he says, and isn’t that something, that those are words he can say without a hint of sarcasm.

He spent his entire life doubting, convinced that there was no atoning for the sins of his past. He still has his moments of weakness, but he can’t deny the impact of Alec’s stalwart acceptance. In this moment, he’s intensely, absurdly grateful that he trusted Alec enough to take that leap and tell him of his heritage. To trust the man he loves with his most closely guarded and shameful secret.

Alec’s hand falls away and Magnus doesn’t need to look to know he’s readying himself for a fight if things go wrong. “Do what you have to do. I’ll cover you.”

Before he can regret his choice, Magnus sends out a stream of magic into the Edomei’s mangled wings.

This time, the creature’s cry is pure excitement. The moment the last of the hollow bones knit together, it launches itself into the air, circling the remnants of magic coming off Magnus’ fingers. Magnus nearly blasts it but years of helping untrained warlocks control their magic stays his hand.

Alec steps in close but doesn’t attack, still following Magnus’ lead.

Following a hunch, Magnus shoots out a few harmless sparks. The the Edomei flies after it, landing in a tangle of wings on the far end of Magnus’ couch. It bounces on the cushion, trying to grab at the dancing points of bright blue magic. When that doesn’t work it breathes out a tiny jet of fire, no larger than the flickering flame of a lighter. Magnus presses his lips together, not wanting to laugh and scare the creature. His resolve nearly breaks when he looks over at Alec, whose eyes are wide, a lopsided smile painted across his face as he watches what should be a fearsome beast pounce on bits of magic.

“My poor couch,” Magnus laments with a frown, sending out a couple more bursts of magic. Some of it races around the Edomei, the rest erases the tiny burn marks from the upholstery. At the same time he he spares a burst of power to gradually brighten the lights in the room. He's getting tired of not seeing in color.

Alec presses his lips together but can’t hide his amusement. “We’re keeping it, aren’t we?” The words are resigned but there’s a hopeful tone in his voice that tells Magnus he’s just as enamored with their unexpected visitor as Magnus is. His voice turns contemplative as he adds, “I wonder why this one is so different than the others.”

“Well, we did save it. Maybe it’s grateful,” Magnus says, though he’s not convinced at his own glib answer.

“Or maybe there’s nothing inherently evil about being from Edom,” Alec replies, pointedly. “Maybe the other Edomei were taught how to be destructive and this one never learned how to hurt people.”

Magnus can’t help himself, he leans in and kisses Alec. Just a light press of lips but enough to let him know how much his words mean.

They both tense for a split second when the Edomei flies at them but it merely settles on Magnus’ shoulder.

“It needs a name,” Alec says, watching the two of them with a fond expression that’s usually reserved for Magnus himself.

“He needs a name,” Magnus corrects. He considers whether or not to be jealous of Alec’s affection and decides against it. The Edomei is adorable, after all.

As if it can sense his thoughts, his new shoulder companion gives another happy noise and plops it’s head down to rest in what was until that very moment a perfectly styled hairdo.

Mischief lights up Alec’s face, now clearly visible in the well lit room. “How about Michelangelo, since he’s clearly a master artisan.” He points to Magnus’ hair, which has become a birds-nest in an almost literal sense. “And now the next time you try to tell me you shared quarters with Michelangelo, it will actually be true.” One corner of his mouth turns up, clearly pleased with himself.

Magnus pretends to pout. “Are you insulting my flirting?” He still remembers the look of confusion that pickup line had earned him from Alec in those early days. Nothing like the smile that lights up his face now, or the warm glint in his eyes that Magnus can feel all the way down to his bones. He pretends to pout, for old time’s sake. “Fine, but if he tries to crawl into our bed at night, you have only yourself to blame.”

Alec grins in satisfaction. “Michelangelo it is.”

The Edomei kneads its claws into the expensive fabric of Magnus’ silk shirt. Magnus grumbles about Versace but his heart isn’t in it. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

The tiny creature flaps its wings, stretching out its long neck and letting out a high-pitched honking noise completely at odds with its small frame. Magnus assumes it’s some form of agreement and scratches its belly in reassurance.

It looks like there were going to be three of them in the loft for the foreseeable future.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #lynne writes fic #writersmonth2019 #i've had this in my drafts for so long and i finally untangled the mess of it!#sorry for no babies in this fic but that is not a thing i can do #i can however do baby animals!

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shirasade · 5 years

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Drabble: Bedtime Story (The Untamed, Wei Ying x Lan Zhan & Ah Yuan)

I had great problems deciding on what to write today, but in the end my current complete and utter obsession with The Untamed and my love for Ah Yuan with his co-parents WangXian won out. Sorry not sorry. :)

300 words, rated G. Day 14, word prompt: fairy tale.

"Tell me a story." That was how most of Ah Yuan's favourite evenings started.

Back at the Burial Mound, as the only child, everyone was happy to indulge him. His favourite of course had been Wei Wuxian, who knew the best tales and did all the voices. However, as time went on, good memories faded along with the bad ones.

There were plenty of stories at the Cloud Recesses, too, although they tended more towards the dry and edifying. However, there was one person Ah Yuan loved listening to, and it was one most people would have least expected.

Hanguang-jun was a man of few words, yet when Ah Yuan begged for a bedtime story, he always acquiesced, eyes softening. Then, gaze turning inwards towards memories both precious and painful, he began quietly, "There once was a boy, born with a face that smiled even in the darkest times. He came to Cloud Recesses, where he met another boy, who'd been lonely all his life."

"You were that boy, weren't you, Hanguang-jun?" Ah Yuan invariably inquired at this point.

Lan Wangji nodded solemnly. "Mn. And I made this song for him."

Humming softly, he summoned his guqin and began to play, a melody of love and loss and longing that, for all its melancholy, reminded Ah Yuan of paper butterflies dancing and a flute playing. Sighing happily, he snuggled up to Hanguang-jun, who simply made room on his lap for him. As Ah Yuan fell asleep, Lan Wangji played on, telling a story without words.

It was only many years later that Ah Yuan, long since grown out of bedtime stories, realised whose tale it had been. Watching the two men who'd raised him looking at each other, he smiled to himself.

This. This would forever be his favourite story.

(On AO3.)

#writersmonth2019 #the untamed #wei ying x lan zhan #lan yuan #drabble #my fic #my own stuff

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 5 years

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Crimson & Clover | Ted “Theodore” Logan x Reader (Oneshot)

Word Prompt: Sports

Words: 1677

Fandom: Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

Summary: You are a soccer player that met Ted at a rock concert. He gets insecure from the teasing he gets from your teammates, but you try to assure him that you don’t care about what they say.

People wondered how two seemingly different people ended up together. Ted wasn’t so crazy about school, but he was crazy about music and when he met you, he became crazy about you. It was at a rock concert when you had bumped into him and his friend, Bill. You recognized them instantly as the ones that kept being called on in class, but you didn’t count on them recognizing you.

“Dude, it’s the soccer babe from history!” Bill yelled over the music. You raised an eyebrow, having heard what he said. Ted shoved Bill, but he didn’t deter in his teasing. “Come on, dude, show some moves!”

Bill shoved him towards you as you watched in amusement. Ted threw a dirty look at his friend that nervously turned to you. He scratched his neck as he looked at you, his mouth moving but you couldn’t hear anything over the ongoing concert.

“What?” you asked, leaning in closer.

“I said you are looking most excellent today!” Ted shouted just as the band finished their song. Several people looked at Ted and laughed before turning back to the stage. His cheeks heated as he shuffled in place.

You smiled at him, putting a comforting hand on his arm. You leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said in his ear, then started to cheer for the next song.

He had asked you out after the concert and the two of you had been together ever since. You supportive of his dream of a band with Bill, the Wyld Stallyns, and his was supportive of you playing for the soccer team. When your teammates first saw your boyfriend, they’d teased that you could snap him like a twig if you hugged him too hard and how he should stand far away before a ball hits him and knock him out. You punched them. Playfully, of course, though their arms were bruised after that.

Ted wasn’t big on exercising, you knew, but after they told him that, he started to follow you to the gym. On his first day, you could already tell that he had no clue where to start or how to operate the machinery. You helped him by starting a warm-up and stretches, then showed him around the gym. He nodded along, but he remained uncharacteristically quiet.

“Don’t push yourself,” you warned him, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Yeah, of course, (Y/n/n), no problem,” he said, staring at a guy doing deadlifts at the back of the gym and flinching when he dropped the weights.

You rubbed his arm reassuringly. “Well, okay. I’m heading over to the treadmill-”

“Okay, got it.” He flashed you a bright smile and walked off to the nearby weights. You watched him leave, not wanting to leave him alone on his first day.

You were finishing another lap on the treadmill, the pumping of your blood in your along with the guitar riffs from the rock music that Ted had given you, when you heard a crash followed by a shout that suspiciously sounded like your Ted.

You shut the treadmill off and frantically looked around for your boyfriend when you saw a crumpled figure on the floor with other gym goers surrounding him. You rushed over to his side, one of the gym employees carefully cradling his foot that was starting to swell.

“What happened,” you asked the employee.

“He dropped weights on his foot and he landed badly,” he said with a grimace. “ He’s twisted it pretty bad. We’ve called the paramedics already.”

“Thank you.” You kneel next to Ted as the other employee shooed the other people away. Ted’s face was twisted up in a frown, his hands clenched into fists as he endured the pain. You took your hand towel and dabbed at his sweating forehead. “Oh, Ted,” you sighed.

Your big game was coming up and you really wanted Ted to go and cheer you on, but he refused to talk to you. You asked Bill what was wrong, but he brushed it off too quickly while avoiding your gaze. After the incident at the gym, Ted had a cast fitted on him and his dad had been scolding him about proper gym etiquette and safety. When you went to see him, he turned his head and came up with an excuse of having to do his homework. So instead, you asked Bill if he could check up on him for you.

Ted watched you leave his house for the third time that week from his bedroom window, his chest tightening as you looked back with a crestfallen expression. Your eyes met his, making him feel caught in the act of something. He quickly looked away and waited until you started back home. He was more embarrassed than anything, but he couldn’t possibly tell that to someone who was so confident and sure of yourself.

He heard his dad’s footsteps making their way towards his room soon after. He limped over to his bed and opened a textbook to a random page with his best thinking look with a hand placed under his chin in contemplation.

His dad opened the door the scene before him and sighed. “You need to talk to her,” he said.

“Dad, can’t you see that I’m studying for school?” Ted said, holding his textbook up for emphasis, but his dad could see that he was holding it upside down.

“Normally I would discourage any distractions from school, but Bill is more of a distraction than you having a girlfriend. Heck, your grades improved ever since you started dating her. She’s... ,” his dad sighed again and stood next to his bed with his arms crossed, “She’s good for you, Theodore. And she’s hurt. What exactly happened?”

Ted threw his textbook down and ruffled his hair. “It’s totally stupid,” he mumbled.

“Ted, this is you we’re talking about. Nothing will surprise me.”

Ted huffed. “It’s just… (Y/n) is, like the most excellent soccer player in her team and she’s so tough, and funny, and such a babe, and like, her teammates don’t think we match because I’m this weak airhead from class.”

“What did (Y/n) say to them?”

“Well, she punched them and, like, really let’um have it and told them off.”

“So you believed them even though (Y/n) doesn’t,” his dad surmised. “She clearly still likes you despite your short attention span and terrible guitar skills and weird antics.”

“Thanks, dad. I totally messed up most heinously,” Ted said in defeat, “Hey, dad?”

His dad paused next to the door. “Yes?”

“Can you help me with something?”

You finished the team warm-up and stretches, sitting down with the others and fished out your water bottle. Your teammates were talking excitedly to each other, hyping each other up and glancing back at the opposing team.

“Your boyfriend’s not here today,” the goalie, Amanda, said, sitting next to you. “You guys had a fight?”

You sighed. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Ted doesn’t seem to be one to hold a grudge. I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s crazy about you. We need you to focus today. Get your head in the game.” She patted your shoulder and shoved you playfully.

You forced a small and nodded. You and Ted rarely fought. When you had your disagreements, he was always open to talk about it. You knew how strict his dad was and would tell him to finish his homework before going out on a date. You would even quiz him with the incentive of a kiss for each question he got right. That definitely motivated him. He was your biggest cheerleader and you could really use his happy energy right now.

The first kick off was about to start when everyone heard loud whooping from the sidelines. The two teams turned and saw two goofballs, a tall dark haired boy leaning on crutches with his shorter blonde friend, with large signs with your team’s named painted on. Those were your goofballs.

“Yeah, (Y/n)!” Ted shouted.

You duck your head in embarrassment from the attention shift, but you were happy he was here. You shook yourself and gave them a thumbs up. They reciprocated with large smiles.

The game commenced with loud cheering from both sides of the field. You’ve managed to score one goal and assisted for the rest of the first half of the game. When you were switched out during the second half, Ted was already waiting for you at the with a gatorade before kissing your cheek.

“I’m really sorry for treating you like that, (Y/n/n). It was most uncool,” he said, bowing his head in shame.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. You do realize that I don’t care about all those things that my teammates said, right? I love you just the way you are.”

“I know, I’m an idiot. Wait, you love me?” His head shot up, his eyes wide.

You smiled at him. “Of course, you idiot.”

Halfway through the second half, you were switched back in due to a teammate’s injury. You scored the winning goal, your teammates rushing to your side and lifting you up. Bill and Ted cheered, doing air guitars together. After the brief celebration, your team shook hands with the opposing team and went off to collect your things. You grabbed your duffle bag and turned, spotting Ted by himself with his crutches. Bill was packing the signs away in the car that Ted’s dad let them borrow.

You dropped your duffle bag in front of him and lifted him up in a crushing hug before gently placing him back down.

“You were most excellent today!” Ted said with a bright smile.

“And you were the most excellent cheerleader today,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Do I get a prize?”

“Um…” Ted frowned until he finally put two and two together. “Oh, yeah, totally!” He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, your teammates whooping as they passed.

#Ted Theodore Logan x Reader #Ted Logan x Reader #writersmonth2019 #Ted Logan imagines #Bill & Ted #Keanu Reeves Imagines #Keanu Reeves #Fluff #Insecure Ted #Soccer Reader #Ted's dad trying to actually be a dad??#Ted Theodore Logan #bill and ted's excellent adventure

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fallenqueen2 · 5 years

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Writer’s Month 2019. Day 11 [Steve!Whump-Stranger Things S3 Finale]

Writer’s Month Day 11

Word Prompt: Whump

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Steve and Max, Steve and Hopper

Steve was pretty sure the world wasn’t supposed to be sideways, but that didn’t stop him from making his way over to Nancy and Jonathan who were huddled together under blankets like he was but together in the back of an ambulance.

“Damn Steve, what the hell?” Jonathan blurted out when he looked up from where his and Nancy’s hands were clutched together. Nancy looked up and gasped quietly when she finally got a good look at his face and the way he was awkwardly holding himself in his dirtied and bloodied Scoops Ahoy uniform and a shock blanket.

“Had a run-in with the Russians under the mall, they didn’t believe me when I told them I worked for Scoops Ahoy.” Steve laughed awkwardly and he could feel the adrenaline from the fight and all that happened that night draining out of him.

“Oh Steve,” Nancy murmured pityingly and Steve had to look away as something unpleasant bubbled in his gut.

“Thank God, mom and Hopper are okay.” Jonathan breathed out, eyes having been drawn to the movement behind Steve. Steve turned and even though it hurt his face to do so he smiled happily at the sight of El and Will clinging to their respective parent.

Steve swayed a bit on his feet as he found himself looking over to where Lucas, Max and Mike were all huddled together under their pile of shock blankets, both boys whispering to Max who had tear streaming down her cheeks.

“HEY!” Dustin and Erica managed to push their way past the barrier of people and US agents. Erica hurrying over to Robin who was watching Steve with those knowing eyes of her while Dustin rushed over to Steve.

Steve’s vision went grey at the edges and he felt and saw the world turn on its side. His knees buckled and Steve felt his shock blanket slip off his shoulders as his body succumbed to gravity.

“Steve, Steve!” Dustin’s voice cracked as he cried out for the older teen, hands scrambling to grab onto Steve’s wrists. Steve barely noticed the touch but he did notice how he collided with a solid shape behind him.

“I got you, kid,” Hopper’s gruff voice was all Steve heard before he finally gave in to the darkness that overtook his vision.

~~/~~

Awareness returned to Steve slowly and over periods. One time he was aware of beeping in his ears, another time he felt a warm pressure on his hand, his leg and another time he swore he heard a game of D&D being played.

Finally, some strength returned to Steve and he managed to peel his eyes open, well one of them at the least, as his other eye was covered in gauze and feeling a bit numb. Steve let his head loll to the side and stared at the IV that was inserted in his hand and bandages wrapped around his wrists where he remembered the handcuffs cutting into his flesh.

“Hey kid, take it easy.�� Hopper’s voice made Steve lift his one eye to see the Chief sitting on one of the plastic chairs in the room.

“Hop?” Steve asked, slowly blinking when he heard how rough his voice was.

“I’m here kid,” Hopper rose from the chair and helped Steve suck down some water. Steve hummed his thanks when Hopper settled him back into place and Steve smiled unable to stop himself when the man brushed some of his hair off of his forehead in a fatherly gesture.

“We got to stop meeting like this,” Hopper said attempting humour and referring to the last time they had ended up in the hospital together.

“Try to,” Steve promised drowsily. “The others?”

“Everyone is okay, it’s all over,” Hopper promised quietly and Steve hummed as his head tipped to the other side of his pillow and his gaze landed on the couch in the room and his lips turned up into a smile.

“They refuse to leave, stubborn kids, no wonder you all get along.” Hopper sounded fond when he spotted Steve watching the trio on the couch. Robin was sitting in the middle with Dustin all but drooling on her shoulder and Erica curled up on her lap, all three of them were asleep.

“Yeah,” Steve knew he sounded fond as well, they had been through a lot together and he was glad they were there waiting for him.

“What happened?” Steve finally managed to ask, he knew he had been beaten to shit and drugged but he hadn’t been taken to the hospital right away when checked out at the mall.

“You had a serve concussion and some bruised ribs. Not to mention the damage to your wrists and the drugs in your bloodstream.” Hopper sounded angry and curled his fingers into the fabric of his pants.

“How long?” Steve knew he was hurt, after all, he felt each blow and he still felt the phantom sensation of that needle being pushed into his neck.

“Once they managed to flush out that drug from your system they put you down for about a week or so just so your body could recover properly,” Hopper explained sounding pained and Steve hummed again.

“They’ve all been by, making sure to keep you company,” Hopper said with a quirk of his lips and Steve found himself smiling as well unable to stop himself.

“You worried us kid, no more fainting okay?” Hopper said as he brushed Steve’s hair back again and Steve sank deeper into the mountain of pillows he was propped upon.

“I’ll try Hop,” Steve murmured.

“I know you will kid,” Hopper smiled wobbly as the doors creaked open and Max poked her head around. She was biting her lower lip before quietly gasping when she saw Steve’s eye open.

“Max,” Steve slurred out, lifting his free hand. Max let out a soft noise that could have counted as a sob and she flew into the room and clutched at his hand with both of hers. She pressed Steve’s hand to her forehead as her shoulders shuddered.

“Thank God you’re okay you idiot.” Max gasped out as she swallowed back her sobs.

“Not going anywhere, shithead,” Steve said fondly and Hopper sat back in his chair as El walked into the room and hugged him before standing behind her father, resting her chin on his head to watch Steve and Max.

“I already lost one brother, I thought I was going to lose another one when you collapsed,” Max admitted as she clung to his uninjured hand.

“I’m here Max, always will be,” Steve promised and she gave him a watery smile.

“You better be idiot,” Max huffed and Steve smiled as his eye closed, suddenly exhausted.

“Steve?” Max whispered in worry.

“He needs lots of rest Max, he’ll wake up again.” Hopper cut in and Max set Steve’s hand back onto the bed, but still held it with one of her own.

“Get better soon idiot,” Max whispered and Steve fell unconscious with a smile on his face.

#stranger things #writersmonth2019 #day 11 #whump prompt #Steve Harrington Whump #Post season 3 finale #Steve Harrington & Jim Hopper #Jim Hopper Lives #AU #Steve Harrington & Max #fallenqueen2

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