#thanks for the prompt ❤️

[definedareasofuncertainty]

Hi friend, how are you 😙

I have some lyrics for yooooooou 💕

They shake their heads saying: God, help her, when I tell 'em he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really, I can And only I can

“Caroline, you can’t go after him! He will kill you!” Elena yelled, grabbing hold of her arm to stop her.

Her words barely registered. Not when the searing pain in Caroline’s chest kept flaring up, accompanied a perhaps inexplicable anger. How could they have done this without telling her? If they had just said something- if they had just remembered to include her for once, then she could’ve made them see reason. She could have prevented all of this.

A body was laid on Elena’s living room; it looked half destroyed and ashen. She could still recognize it as Kol’s.

She’d never interacted with him much, and, truth be told, she hadn’t exactly been planning on extending her time in his company. And yet- a knot formed in her throat anyway. Where was Klaus?

“He will be back any time to kill you all! You murdered his brother. One he actually cared about. This is not like anything else- He will not let this go, Elena. I have to- if I talk to him, maybe I can convince him to let you go. Or at least buy you time. I-“

Her voice broke off. What was that conversation going to be like? How could she convince him not to avenge his little brother’s death? But if she didn’t say anything… He would come after her friends. She was the only one who could prevent more bloodshed. Would he even listen to her? Would he believe her when she told him she hadn’t known?

Klaus knows you, a voice whispered in the back of her mine. He had always been able to tell when she was telling the truth. Had always been able to see through her, to see her entirely. It would have to be enough. It would be enough.

“Why do you think he will listen to you? He is murderous, Caroline. You can’t distract him this time. I won’t let you put yourself in danger so that-

“I will not be in danger,” she said firmly. Too firmly. With too much certainty.

Elena faltered. Eyes widening in surprise then brows furrowing. “How do you know that?”

Caroline felt her heart racing. Her lips parted and closed twice, as she tried to find the words to form a confession. Her eloquence fell short for once, and she was left in silence, staring at her friend as her face betrayed far too much emotion. Guilt at secret she had been hiding. Hurt. Anger. And something that was beginning to look a lot like love.

“Elena.” It was Stefan who broke the silence. The look in his eyes too understanding.

Elena’s face crumbled, her mouth opening as understanding dawned upon her. “Oh, no. Care. What have you done?”

Caroline squared back her shoulders. “He won’t hurt me.”

send me lyrics from ttpd and i’ll write a minidrabble 🤍🖤

#klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline fanfiction #galvanizedfriend #does this make sense with the lyrics? BARELY #does this make sense at all? cant tell #but first thing ive written in literal months 🥹 #there you go friend #thanks for the prompt ❤️

[wtfuckevenknows]

Tarlos + "That's a very stupid idea."

Hej, hello, bonjour, guten Tag :))))

Thank you sooooo much for sending a prompt. I have no clue what this is, but it's the first thing that came to my mind and I think it's rather funny 😂

“Can I have a bite?”

Carlos looks at him like he’s grown three heads.

“I don't think -” 

“Oh, come one, sharing is caring.” 

“TK,” Carlos scolds. “You know it’s not about not wanting to share.”

“I know your food is more spicy than mine, but we’ve been building up my spice tolerance for nearly two years. I think I can handle it.” 

“Well, I don't,” Carlos mutters under his breath before shoving another bite of his taco into his mouth but TK hears him loud and clear. He drops his own burrito back onto the plate and just stares at Carlos. 

Carlos lets out a long suffering sigh once he’s had a couple of more bites while ignoring TK, which rude, and hands over the last bit of his taco. TK whoops in victory, blowing Carlos a kiss. Then he proceeds to put the last of Carlos taco into his mouth. 

"That's a very stupid idea," Carlos reminds him, but by now it’s already too late. 

Before TK can even say anything, Carlos gets up and makes his way to the fridge, where he grabs a bottle of milk. He doesn't even bother with a glass, just brings the whole damn bottle, which admittedly isn't full anymore, over to the table. 

“Thanks babe,” TK chokes out, before downing the entire contents of the bottle. He’s still breathing hard and fanning himself once he’s done and looks over at Carlos. He’s met by a smug grin and sparkling eyes. 

“Don’t say it!” 

“I wouldn't dream of it.” 

“Your face tells a different story.”

Carlos laughs at him then, leaning over the table to whisper in his ear “It was a stupid idea.” 

It’s only marginally better than I told you so.

Send me Five Word Sentences and I'll write you a little something while I wilt away at home

#writing prompt #five word sentences #me? writing? what a concept #thanks for the prompt ❤️ #911 ls fic #tarlos fic

[witch-and-her-witcher]

An exploratory kiss, testing the waters between them - Anna Henrietta and Olgierd von Everec, Geralt's birthday party

The duchess swayed on her feet - the Redanian was at her side swiftly, catching her with surprising gentleness for his burly stature and demeanor. Batting her lashes, vision dancing with over indulgence, the swell of emotion from suddenly being so close to his broad chest, chiseled jaw overwhelmed her - Anarietta chastely kissed her rescuer.

He tasted of the sweetest Toussaint wine.

"Ah, Your Grace." Olgierd pulled back with a sheepish smile. "At one time I would have traded anything to kiss a woman such as yourself, no matter her state ... But I fear those days are gone. It's best we get you safely tucked away in your carriage and back to the palace."

"I could command you, you know. What would you say to that? Surely you would not deny the ruler of the land where you stand."

"That would be just as disappointing. My days of obeyin' orders I don't believe in have also passed."

Anarietta felt heat rising in her cheeks at his casual dismissal of the power she wielded, but then he was lifting her hand and the bristle of his mustache hairs were tickling the back of her hand where he kissed her. The irritation dissipated instantly, replaced by the warm embrace of her buzz.

"I will allow it this time. As long as you swear to come to the magnificent Beauclair palace and see me once more. In an unaltered state. The stories you have regaled me with this evening are unmatched by the most valiant knight, the most recognized poet."

Olgierd's lips curled into a smirk. "I swear it on the eagle."

She laughed breathlessly, nearly missing a step into her carriage. "Cheeky."

His wink was the last image before the carriage door swung shut.

#ask game #just when yall thought i was done more amazing prompts 🙌 #thanks for the prompt ❤️ #olgierd #anna henrietta #olgierd x anna henrietta #witcher fan fic #my writing

[theresawritesstuff]

'You can barely keep your eyes open.. When was the last time you slept?'

(I assumed this a Midge x Lenny prompt since it was unspecified.)

"Midge."

"Hm?" Midge hummed, leaning her head tiredly on her hand, her eyelids heavy.

Lenny smirked despite himself. "You just put your elbow in your sandwich."

"Tastes better that way," she yawned, attempting a joke. "Sorry. You were telling me about how your meeting with the um…law guys…Lawyers. How'd that go?"

"It was okay," he replied. "You know we can talk about this later. You can barely keep your eyes open."

"I'm fine. I wanna hear about it," she insisted through another yawn.

"When was the last time you slept?" Lenny asked, concern coloring his voice as he handed her a napkin.

Midge considered the question, blinking tiredly. "Took a cat nap on the couch in my dressing room for a few minutes between tapings today." She yawned again. "Gordon really needs to get someone to replace the coffee filters backstage."

Lenny took her hand in his across the table."I meant actually slept. In a bed."

Midge propped her head against the booth, thinking.

"Tuesday? No…Monday. Yeah…"

His brows went up at the admission. "Christ Midge. It's Thursday.  Hell, practically Friday at this point in the night. Why are you still here?"

She shrugged, unbothered. "Because you wanted to grab a bite after my set and I like seeing you. It's part of the whole dating thing isn't it? Making time for each other."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know you'd been up for three days straight." He looked guiltily down at their entwined hands, tracing circles on her skin with his thumb. "When I said do the work that isn't what I meant, you know."

Midge waved off the concern with her free hand. "It's fine. Just a long week. Esther had the flu. Then Ethan got it. Between barfing kids and working…"

"Does Susie know you've been burning the candle at both ends?"

"She's got other clients to worry about. I can handle it," she insisted, rested her head on the table.

"Uhuh. How's that pastrami pillow treating you?"

"Smells good," she mumbled.

Lenny shook his head. "Alright. Let's get you to bed."

"Okay." Midge nodded, yawning again as Lenny pulled her up out of the booth.

"Who's got the kids?" he asked, hailing a cab.

"Kids…" Midge rested her head against his shoulder, letting him support her.

"Yours specifically," he clarified.

"Mama's with them."

Lenny nodded. "She knows how to get them to school and all that?"

"Uhuh…"

"Good. Watch your head now."

Lenny helped her into the cab before climbing in next to her.

Midge nestled in against his shoulder as the cab began to roll forward. "Missed you," she murmured.

Lenny just smiled quietly and kissed the top of her head.

She squinted bleery eyed as they arrived at their destination. "This isn't my apartment."

"Nope. It's mine," he reminded her, guiding her up the steps.

"Right."

"Figured you'd have fewer interruptions here. Consider this a kidnapping if you like. I'll let you proof read the ransom note over pancakes in the morning," he quipped.

Midge nodded, her steps slow as she leaned into his arms, letting him shepherd her towards his bedroom. "Sounds good."

Lenny helped her out of her things and into one of his spare shirts, tucking her in.

"Get some rest," he told her, stroking a hand over her hair as he got up.

"Hey." Midge grabbed his wrist, pulling him back in for a kiss. "I love you."

She laid down, cuddling against his pillow. 

Lenny smiled tenderly. "I love you too, sweetheart."

It was the first time they'd said those words to each other. First time she'd said it anyway. After everything they'd been through… They'd been playing things tentatively.

She may not remember saying it in the morning but she meant it, and for now that was more than enough.

"Where're you going?" she mumbled as he tried to slip away again.

"I'll be back right after I call your folks and let them know where you are," he assured her. "Can't have a search party knocking down the door while you're trying to sleep."

"'kay. Hurry back. Sleep better with you." A final yawn punctuated the claim as she snuggled in and drifted off.

God, he would never get over seeing her in his bed.

"Right back atcha."

#midge x lenny #Midgelenny #Prompt fill #Sorry this took so long! #Thanks for the prompt ❤️ #marvelous mrs maisel #theresa writes stuff #tmmm fanfic #lenny x midge

[leenfiend]

perhaps keith and lance winding down for the night and getting ready to go to bed? a little kiss goodnight for your crush frenemy wouldn't hurt :)

This set them back weeks I just know it

#Shiro is like I thought u guys were friends what happened #Klance #vld #my art #THANK U FUN PROMPT ❤️

[piratefishmama]

You're writing is godly. Can you take a shot at

09.  “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.”

Writing Prompts | No longer accepting new prompts

It was the first time in ten years that Steve Harrington had seen Eddie Munson in person, and it was from what felt like miles away in shitty seats up on the balconies, the only saving grace was that Eddie was being tracked like prey by the camera guys, each step, each sway of his hair, each manic, dimpled, toothy grin blown up larger than life on the big screens on either side of the stage. The rest of the band blown up on the ones in the back.

He wasn’t looking at the ones in the back, although the guys suited being up there.

“Steve… he’s uh… Eddie I mean, corroded coffin, they’re playing, y’know? In Indy? Dustin got tickets, but… well they’re not the best tickets, nothing VIP or close to the pit or anything, I don’t think Eddie even knows Dustin’s going, but… we could at least go and see him perform…” it’d been Robin that’d mentioned it, none of them had seen Eddie in person.

He kept in touch when he could with Dustin and his little adventurers, Lucas, Mike, and Erica. But he’d left Hawkins behind with nothing there to hold him back.

There could have been.

Steve knew there could have been, Eddie had told him the night before he’d packed his stuff and left, bore his heart to him in his backyard, hair haloed by the blue light that shimmered off of the pool, nervous but hopeful, he’d offered his heart on a silver platter and Steve… god…

He hadn’t known.

He hadn’t known just how much Eddie meant to him until he was gone, off to stardom with his band, leaving a possible life behind for something else. Could have, should have, would have, it made no difference in the end. Steve had said no when he really meant he needed time to work out his feelings, he’d shut down the possibility before it could grow, and had regretted it ever since.

Eddie had been gone by the following morning, he’d only said goodbye to the kids. Apparently there’d been a record deal offered at his last gig, and his choice depended entirely on whether or not Steve said yes.

Part of him wished he’d have been selfish, part of him wished he’d known his own heart before he’d stupidly let the rejection slip out, things would have been different… but then… Eddie wouldn’t have had this.

He wouldn’t have had a stage, an audience of thousands cheering for him in awe. He would’ve been stuck, in Hawkins, a place that still hated him… Steve was happy for him, truly. Happy that he’d made it, even if it meant Steve could never have him. He could stomp around the stage dressed in denim and leather and shred on a guitar in a way that made Steve’s ears ring but his heart happy, he’d never be tied down to a place that hated him.

He'd never be stuck where the past could haunt him. He could be happy even if Steve couldn’t.

The gig was amazing though, even if Steve stook out like a sore thumb, he’d done his best, wore a little eyeliner, mussed up his hair, he wore Eddie’s old battle vest with the blood stains still visible cause he’d never been able to get them out and Eddie had never taken it back, had seen Steve still had it after they’d won and claimed “it looks better on you anyway” he still looked like someone’s out of place dad, but he was surrounded by the party so, it didn’t matter. Nobody was paying attention to him, nobody was looking for him, Eddie wouldn’t see him from so far away, probably couldn’t even see the row in front of his face with the lights shining on him so brightly.

And yet near the end of the concert, while the band were wrapping up on their final song (before the inevitable encore the audience demanded of them, Dustin claimed it’d probably wind up being Upside Down, or Pariah, two songs he’d always claimed had been inspired by ‘his past’ from the bands last album, they were fan favourites.) A burly guy dressed in a black crew neck with a big white ‘SECURITY’ stretched over his broad chest, flagged him down.

Steve motioned to his ears, he couldn’t hear shit over the music, and could barely hear shit on a regular day, but that particular security guard, simply signed the words:

‘Not in trouble, come with me.’ confidently, as if he knew Steve would understand it. Only when Steve frowned in confusion and signed back

‘why’ did the guy thrust his thumb over into the stage’s direction. The band.

Steve, feeling suspicious, turned to look toward the party, only to find Dustin giving him a thumbs up, and Robin making shoo motions with her hands. Scheming little shits knew he wouldn’t think twice about attending if the seats were so far away. Would think it was safe, that he wouldn’t have to face Eddie. Face his terrible decision that worked out for one of them but not the other.

He wouldn’t have to find himself waiting backstage in a quiet room behind a door labelled ‘Talent’ because of course he’d go. His traitorous legs and heart would force him to go at the mere chance of seeing Eddie again, of seeing him up close, of talking to him, of the chance to fix a mistake he’d made years ago even if his new answer wouldn’t change anything between them. It’d been too long, Eddie wouldn’t still want him when he could have anyone.

If they had told him, he wouldn’t have to see Eddie, quietly (a word not many used to describe the man) enter, his back facing Steve as he closed the door just as quietly as he’d entered. His hair was longer.

The curls fuller, they reached down to his mid-back now and glistened with a mixture of product and sweat, Steve still wanted to touch, still mourned the fact that he’d never gotten the chance to.

“Y’know… When ol Dusty bun said he’d get you here… I wish I’d have believed him. I owe him 20 bucks now.”

“You bet on me coming?” Of course he did.

Eddie turned to face him, a small wistful smile on his cheeks that just hinted the presence of dimples. “Wouldn’t you if you were in my place? Steeeeve Harrington, at a metal concert? Pfft, seems a bit farfetched. You even dressed up too, shit, man, I guess that’s forty bucks. Vest still suits you more.” Steve let his head duck down a little, his cheeks warming under the mans gaze, unsure of the feeling within it. He didn’t know Eddie anymore…

Had he ever really known Eddie though? Had he ever given them chance to know each other outside of sharing trauma and comparing matching scars?

“…Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why am I back here, Eddie? Why’d you call me back here? Why not the party, they’re here too, they’d probably wanna see you too, it’s been years… why?”

“Ah. Dustin told me to, said I should have another go at something I tried years ago that didn’t pan out very well for me the first time around… has been chatting my ear off about it every time he calls… I guess I finally humoured him.” Something he tried years ago? Involving Steve? “Listen, Steve… I—”

Steve cut in, he shouldn’t have, but words just… had to burst from him driven by a flickering ember of hope, he had to, even if it wasn’t the path Eddie’s words were taking, he had to, with hope driving him on “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” Eddie’s mouth shut, his head tilting to the side a little in uncertain interest “I didn’t know… I should have just told you, I didn’t… I wasn’t sure, shit, Eddie… I’d never… you—I’d never felt like… like that for a guy before… I didn’t know what it meant, I should have said—I should have told you that I just needed more time… that I wasn’t ready to answer but… but I didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t know you’d be gone by the time I woke up. By the time I realised I was wrong, you were gone.” He wanted time, but his words had come out wrong.

He’d stumbled through them like he stumbled through everything, struggled to get the right words out and they’d wound up wrong. So so very wrong. “And you didn’t think to call?”

“Heh, you were on your way to fame, Eddie and you didn’t exactly leave a number, Dustin told me you had a chance at stardom… why would I want to weigh you down? Where would I fit in in this life of yours, Eddie? I’m no one, you could have anyone.”

“Mmn, anyone. Even if the one I want believes himself to be no one?” Hope burned brighter, its embers brilliant and warm. “So… can I try again? Or was Dustin wrong?”

“Did you make a bet with him about this too?”

“Absolutely, I’d owe him two hundred bucks if he’s right.”

“Would it be worth it if I said try again?”

“God, Sunshine, I’d drain my entire bank account right into that little buttheads pocket without a care in the world if it meant he was right… i never stopped...” Eddie stepped closer, "I never stopped wanting... even though I wished for the longest time that I could stop... it's always been you, Steve..." now close enough to be within reach, his voice quiet but hopeful “so... is he right? Should I try again?”

“…Please try again.” This time… he wouldn’t be saying no.

#Steddie #Writing prompts #thank you for the compliment!! :D #💖💖💖💖❤️❤️❤️

[thesunpersists]

Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”

Read @mollywog's version here— thank you for the tag! 🧚🏻

Tagging: @evax3, if you are feeling inspired! ❤️

A short story where Katniss attempts to knit a scarf for Peeta. This is set during their growing back together phase (or shortly after the first chapter of The Third Thing, if you will).

Is he really your crush if you don’t knit him an ugly scarf?

My eyes shift between the pattern and the needle in my hand.

Cast on 59 stitches.

I sigh. This is the third time I am doing it. The first time, the yarn tail was too short, and I had to undo the whole thing. The second, I messed up the count midway through and started over. This one has to do. Even if it is 58 or 60 stitches, I can’t bear to do it again.

Row 1: *Knit 3, purl 1.* Repeat * until the last 3 stitches. Knit 3. Turn.

My mother must have been some sort of a genius. There is no other explanation. She always made it look so easy. And she used to make complicated things, intricate designs with checkers and animal patterns and whatnot. All the clothes she made were perfectly sculpted to fit our bodies. She could even hold a conversation while knitting and the nice, steady rhythm of her needles wouldn’t once change. It was so different from the way my needles are squeaking now.

Row 2: Knit 1, purl 1, knit 1. * Knit 2, purl 1, knit 1.* Repeat * until the end of the row.

And when she noticed a mistake, she would unravel row after row without batting an eye. She would even unravel old clothes to repurpose the yarn. Prim and I would help her, one of us winding the yarn while the other ran around the house with a sweater or scarf in hand. It seems almost cruel now, after seeing how much work goes into each individual stitch.

I can see the glaring mistakes already, from the very second row. The ends are too loose, my tension is uneven, and it is a miracle that I haven’t dropped a single stitch yet. Oh, no — there goes the first one. Well, there is no going back. I am not strong enough to undo my hard work.

Repeat rows 1 and 2 until you reach the desired length for your scarf. A scarf’s length should be approximately equal to the height of the person wearing it.

I have a feeling that the desired length and what my patience will allow for will be drastically different. And as if the whole thing isn’t annoying enough, the person who will be wearing it is watching me from the couch across with an amused look on his face.

“What is it?” I snap. “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like this?”     

Peeta laughs and throws his hands up. “Look at you like what? I am just sitting here.”

“I can feel that you want to laugh!”

“I don’t want to laugh. I just thought you’d be…” he trails off, “I don’t know— good with your hands, I guess. More dexterous. Since you are an archer and all.”

“I am good with my hands!” An inexplicable blush travels up my neck to my cheeks. “This is just new.”

“And what was your talent again?” He scratches his chin as if he is in deep thought. “Oh, it was fashion design, real or not real?”

“Real. But that was my pretend talent. My real talent is hunting,” I remind him. “And I am perfectly capable of it. I don’t see you complain when you’re wolfing down your dinner.”

“Okay,” he laughs, “that’s a low blow. Is this supposed to be a therapy thing, then? Because it doesn’t look relaxing. It looks like you are fighting the needles. And losing.”

“Shut up. Just stop making fun of me.”

Peeta grins. “Or what?”

“Or…” I stop and think for a second. “Or you’ll say goodbye to your new scarf.”

His grin is wiped off his face, and he stares at me. “Wait, is it for me?”

It’s my turn to be surprised. “Of course. Do you think I’d go through this trouble for myself?”

#thank you for the tag! #❤️❤️❤️ #prompt challenge #everlark #everlark fanfiction

[smoosey]

For the prompt game: honey

"Let me show you something," Obi-Wan says, and leads Cody through the forest to a spring-bright meadow. Under the wind and birdsong - the humming of a hive.

The bees go languid and docile when Cody's Jedi walks among them. Cody lets them settle on his hands and arms - he holds very still for them, studies their shining wings and their delicate legs. Obi-Wan laughs, to see it.

Not long after, Obi-Wan comes to him, a softness in his eyes, a honeycomb in his hand.

"Open your mouth, darling," he says, and his hand curls around Cody's jaw, impossibly tender in the way that makes everything go quiet and aching inside.

Cody opens for him. The honeycomb is lush and golden on his teeth and tongue, dripping, spilling over with sweetness. He chases the flavor down Obi-Wan's fingers and wrists, nestles a kiss into his palm, and looks back at him again with lightness in his heart.

#ohhh it's tooth-rotting but i couldnt resist #thank you for the prompt ❤️ #ask prompt #six sentence sunday #codywan #smoosey writing

[cedobols]

I have a silly request/idea but before I say it, I just wanna tell you that your blog rocks my world. Your Martian art is scrumptious nom nom nom nom it is so wonderful and I smile every time it pops up on my feed ‼️💝🩷

Okay so: the "ah yes, my girlfriend and her 500 dollar four foot tall mareep" prompt but with Seb and Mark and Seb's 500 dollar five foot cinnamonroll plush.

xoxoxo love ur work 💕

#ask #my art #sebastian vettel #mark webber #martian #sebmark #thank you so much for liking my art ; that means a lot to me…. wahhh giving u hugsa and kisses #thank you also for the prompt heheh ive drawn this meme before but not with martian so i was happy to do it!!!!! #i like how ur mind works……. #REALLY THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS. IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY BUT. Y HEART IS FULL. #ILL CONTINUE DRAWING THESE BOYS TILL MY LAST DAYS #❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[harri-etvane]

prompt fill: for @my-whortleberry-friend ❤️ - no. 7 from this list & the addition of "don't you dare let me pass out right now - Maks - not with the media / the delegation behind the door' *through gritted teeth* 'please'"

Mornings often set the tone of the day. If they've had a night of unbroken sleep, the following day already seems half-won, there are fewer thoughts embraced with fog or a lack of clarity; there are moments of levity, a chance for a joke, a second or two of brightness, a snippet of time in which they can just breathe. On the opposite side, the nights when they don't sleep, when there are nightmares and sirens and a bone-deep ache - the day is somehow more difficult, endless, no time to catch their breath, to stop; a careering rush to the end of the line.

Volodymyr hasn't slept. Maksym knows. He hides it well enough, swallowing another mouthful of coffee, frowning at the report before him, loosely fiddling with the pencil between his fingers, scrawling small notes in the margin. He can't quite hide everything; the way a muscle jumps in his jaw, the way he digs a knuckle absently into the small of his back to try and alleviate the ache there, the way he swallows a yawn, his eyes red. Breakfast has long since been abandoned, the eggs congealing miserably on their plate, replaced with coffee and the grim desire to tackle the day head-on. It feels like an awful cocktail that will inevitably end in disaster; little sleep, even less food, caffeine.

Maksym was right - as he often is when it comes to Vova.

It's been hours since breakfast (three meetings, four phonecalls, seven cups of coffee) and Volodymyr looks ready to drop, gripping hard onto the edge of the table as he forces himself to his feet. One half-stumbled step across the floor of the meeting room is enough before he sways dangerously; Maks reaches forward immediately, on instinct now.

“Don't you dare–”

Maksym blinks, feeling the small tremor that runs through him, his hands around Volodymyr's elbows, taking the other man's weight as he sways, his gaze still fierce and sharp-edged.

“What?”

“Don't you..dare let me pass out right now. Don--Maksym.”

The bodyguard bites down a groan at a now familiar routine that each time makes him hurt; for Vova more than anything. He longs to say what he thinks, what he knows - that this is your body telling you to stop, listen to it, please. But he doesn't - not this time. He knows the mood Vova is in; his grim, burning determination refusing to allow anything else in, not compassion or kindness for himself. He has to keep going - he can't stop, not now, not yet. There is always too much to do, not enough space for the driving, dull pain of his body to take any precedence.

“You need to sit down.”

“Not with the–”

Ah. Of course. There's always something else, someone else who Vova would rather prioritise than himself.

“The delegation. America. They'll be here. In a minute. Don't let me, Maks –”

He grits his teeth.

“Please.”

Perversely Maksym wonders what would happen if he didn't do as Vova asked - if the door swung open and the American delegation strode into the room to see him collapse on the polished parquet flooring; exhausted, defenceless, nothing left to give.

What would Maks say then; so full of rage, so full of grief that he could choke on it - look at what you are doing - to him, look at what you are allowing to happen to his country - to our beautiful country because you fight amongst yourselves while our people die, you stubborn, spineless, slow-moving sack of sh–

He won't do it. He knows that he couldn't bear it; it would hurt Volodymyr and Maksym would rather die than do that. Instead, he takes a deep breath, swallows down his anger.

“Alright, sir. It's alright. Take a deep breath for me.”

He hears the stuttered inhale and offers a small smile in reward.

“There. And another one. Keep hold of me.”

They stand there for a long minute together, Volodymyr breathing deeply, Maksym his silent echo. It passes, in the end; Volodymyr's world stops spinning wildly out of control, brought back to anchor by a pair of steady hands, a familiar, careworn face.

#harriet writes #such a gorgeous prompt idea thank you darling ❤️ #Maksym & Vova #Ficlet

[definedareasofuncertainty]

I scratch your head, you fall asleep

Like a tattooed golden retriever

But you awaken with dread

Pounding nails in your head

But I've read this one where you come undone

I chose this cyclone with you

He worried too much.

That was one of the multitude of things that had surprised her about him. Klaus had always seemed carefree — or well, that was perhaps not the best word to describe him, but he had always committed to appearing so above everything and everyone. The most powerful creature on the planet. What could possibly concern him? What could possibly affect him so?

A lot, it seemed

They were cut from the same cloth, as far as she could tell. Anxiety and worry coursing through their veins. That insistent, pounding voice in their heads always going — will this ever be enough?

Will I ever be enough?

They had only differed when it came to the choice of their coping mechanism. Her lists and overbearing-ness. His murder sprees and siblings locked in coffins. Oh, well.

Still. It both filled her with relief and endless unease to watch him now. It was, on one hand, so very comforting to think that he was so similar to her. She could understand him as well as she could herself, and he could read her like she was a book he had written. But it was like a tight grip around her heart, knowing that he sometimes suffered as much as she did.

Even now, his head lying on her lap as she caressed his curls… a frown was ever-present between his brows. Caroline felt tempted to press her fingertips against the crease on his skin and smooth it over, but she knew his concerns wouldn’t be so easily squabbled. Something about Rebekah choosing to move across the ocean. Something about how he sometimes looked at Caroline and seemed to wonder if she would leave him too.

She would be offended by his doubting of her loyalty if she didn’t understand the fear of loneliness too well.

Caroline didn’t comment on it, though. She continued to run her hand through his hair, allowing his content sighs to echo deep with her heart. In a little while, she would make a comment on how maybe he liked her petting him so much because of his wolf nature. And he would growl and protest and hide a smile at her terrible joke.

And maybe little by little he would understand. She was here to stay.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline fanfiction #push1na #this is probably my least favorite lyrics from the album BUT #kind of fits them so well??? lmao #i hope you like this ❤️ #thank you so much for the prompt!!

[campingwiththecharmings]

Honeyboo, I know you said you don't do HC's and stuff, but can you imagine Driver!Jake as he is driving RichGirl!Reader around on a shopping day and he has to carry all of her bags after her as she is going from store to store cause her daddy said so 💀

(it's not that i don't do them, per se, i just don't think about them until someone asks me lol 😆)

ooo i can see this taking place both before they're together and after. 👀

if it's before, jake would probably be kind of annoyed (and perhaps even a little insulted) to be reduced to a literal bag boy--though, he can't lie, the bonus her daddy gave him is more than generous enough for him to swallow his pride for one afternoon. she's polite enough to him initially, thanking him for holding doors for her and apologizing to him when she just wants to try on just a few more dresses.

but then she meets up with some friends.

he can see them from where he stands at the front of the store, his arms laden with shopping bags. she and her friends are looking at him, not at all trying to hide that fact as they're whispering and giggling about him like school girls. jake is torn between being annoyed and amused (but mostly he just wishes he could have a cigarette). her friends spend the rest of the day shamelessly flirting with him (one even tries to get his phone number) and he thinks he must've imagined the spark of jealousy in your eyes.

if they're already together? well...she'd obviously spend the day torturing him. instead of making him wait at the front for her, she tells him she needs him in the dressing rooms. she makes him sit in the waiting area and models every single outfit for him. there's one particular dress, one with a slit that goes up your thigh that leaves little to the imagination, that he almost begs you to buy, if only so he can peel it off of you at some point in the near future.

the smirk on her face as she buys it tells him how obvious his desire was.

he's about to take her home (maybe practice getting her out of that dress) when she asks him to make just one more stop. he does as asked, of course, and he drives to the store. he doesn't think anything of it until he walks in with her and sees it....all the lingerie.

he practically swallows his tongue when she asks him to accompany her to the dressing rooms.

it's the end of the day and the store is (blessedly) empty so they have the dressing room to themselves. just as jake is giving himself a pep talk, telling himself he can do this, that he can control himself, that he will not fuck her in the middle of this high-end boutique, she walks out of the dressing room in the most beautiful set of lace and silk scraps he's ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

he wants to rip them off her with his teeth.

in the end, he does end up fucking her in the middle of this high-end boutique, his hand over her mouth muffling her cries of pleasure as he pounds into her over and over.

as she comes around him, her pleasure dragging him over the edge too, jake has the thought that maybe being a bag boy isn't actually as bad as he'd thought it'd be. 😇🤭

#see what i mean lol #i just need a prompt 😆 #hehe thanks for sending this in bb🥰❤️ #what a fun rabbit hole to go down #dolli tag #my fic #i guess #jake lockley x reader #sorry if this switches in tenses at any point #my brain kept putting 'you' instead of 'her' lol

[clawbehavior]

getting turned on by the other's jealousy + gahan

last 5 sentence ficlet! thanks for sending these delicious prompts anons!

--

he wanted to ride yohan's stupid face until he came all over it. 

yohan grabs gaon around the arm before he can leave and hauls him backwards until his back hits the full length mirror in the bathroom. 

'answer me, when i speak to you.'

'oh, you don't appreciate being ignored?' gaon asks sweetly, a tone he knows irks yohan as much as it riles him up. 

he crows internally when yohan gets that black look in his eyes, aggression and arousal building, but outwardly he says, 'unlike you, prosecutor jung takes an interest in my business proposals, so maybe i'll let him take me home to have a look at my briefs --' and loses the rest of his sentence when yohan drags gaon forward by the lapels of his suit and kisses him, hard. 

#the devil judge #gahan #lawful family #my fic ideas #my ficlet #a03 #am writing #anon asks #writing prompts #they could be healthy and communicate properly but wheres the angst in that? #thanks for sending anon ❤️

[estrellami-1]

I got a challenge for you with the writing prompts 👀 use 16, 17 AND 18 together. (Steddie, obviously)

16. "Excuse you?"

17. "This is all your fault!"

18. "I shouldn't be in love with you."

You’re choice on who says what 😌 (also doesn’t have to end happy, but we do love our angst w/happy endings)

Ooh I love this!!! I hope you didn’t necessarily mean in order, because, well… you’ll see. 😉

Dustin’s face is red. There are tears streaking down his face. Steve’s heart breaks as he reaches for Dustin and gets pushed away.

“This is all your fault!” Dustin screams, and Steve feels his fractured heart break irreparably.

“What?” He whispers, unable to believe he had heard correctly.

“It’s your fault!” Dustin insists, still crying. “If you hadn’t said what you did, Eddie would still be alive!”

Somehow, Steve’s heart breaks more. “Dustin-”

“No!” Dustin yells, pushing Steve away once more. “Just- just leave me alone!” He turns away, and no amount of pleading makes him turn back.

Steve leaves. Doesn’t know where he’s going until he’s at the cemetery, sitting in front of Eddie’s headstone. His body isn’t here; it’s still in the Upside Down somewhere. Steve will never forgive himself for that. He thinks, distantly, that he’s numb, in shock.

A dull laugh tears its way out of his throat. “He said it’s my fault,” he says. “Dustin, that is.” His throat clicks when he tries to swallow. “Said if I hadn’t said what I did, you’d still be alive. I hope- God, I hope that isn’t true. I don’t know what I’d do if it is. And I know he’s just looking for someone to blame, he’s grieving, I get that, but… it hurt. Y’know? Cause I thought we were past all that… that bullshit. Of thinking I’m still King Steve. Of thinking I’m not good enough, no matter what I do. Of thinking it’s not tearing me apart.” He shakes his head. Vaguely realizes he’s crying. “I just… God, I feel so stupid saying this, but… if there’s any way… just. Give me some sort of sign. Let me move on, at least. Let me be strong for everyone else still grieving you.”

He waits a few minutes, not terribly hopeful, but waxing more disappointed as the time passes. “I’m, uh. I’m choosing to believe there’s nothing you can do, instead of thinking you can’t hear me or something. I’m gonna come back, I swear. I dunno about the kids, but I know you love- um. You loved them. And you’d want to know how they’re doing. So I’ll at least tell you about them.”

Another minute passes as he wrestles his emotions under control, wiping the last errant tears from his eyes. “Same time next week?” He asks, imagining Eddie would grin and wink at him, say something like, “As long as you’re paying!”

With that thought, Steve stands and leaves.

He’s back next week. Says, as soon as he sits down, “Dustin’s not mad at me anymore, so that’s something. I think Claudia probably talked some sense into him. He’s just kinda… listless, now. Will too. I think, uh. I think he was hoping to talk to you. I dunno…” he sighs, tries to organize his thoughts. “I’m safe. That’s first of all. So if you are… it’s fine. Robin showed me a zine she brought back from a trip to Indy. Apparently the handkerchief means something. I didn’t know that until, like, three days ago. And it’s not that Will’s gonna start putting a hanky in one of his back pockets, but… I’ve seen the way he looks at Mike, y’know? And I wish I could help but I’ve got no experience with guys. Robin would be willing, but…” he chuckles. “She’s strictly into boobies. Which is kind of an inside joke, for us. Y’know she came out to me in a Starcourt bathroom while we were high off our asses with Russian truth serum? That’s one of the apocalypses we helped avert. Well, the Russians themselves weren’t the apocalypse. There was… well. It’s a whole thing. Billy Hargrove, remember him? He got mind-controlled. I hit him with a car because he was gonna kill Nance and them. He was fine, it wasn’t really him, y’know? Then he sacrificed himself. I’ve seen Max cry twice in the time that I’ve known her. She didn’t even cry when she sprained her ankle trying to land a flip. But she cried then. God, she was inconsolable. And he sacrificed himself for her. I think, for a while, she wished it had been her, instead of him.” He sighs, stands, smiles wanly at Eddie’s name. “Edmund, huh?”

He imagines Eddie’s smirk. “No relation to the Pevensies,” he’d say with a wink and a bow, “though I, too, came out of a closet.”

So it goes, week after week, month after month. The days get shorter and colder, then longer and warmer.

“Will came to me a few days ago,” he whispers one spring day. “Scared outta his mind. But he did it, and he was so brave, and I told him what I could.” He manages a smirk. “And it turns out we’re not too different after all. I’ve been… thinking, recently. And talking to Robin, and man, that was a trip. Turns out the normal, straight amount of flirting with the guys is zero. I don’t think I’m the only one to blame, though, because thinking back on it, Tommy got really close sometimes, before we fell out, and Billy had that whole… thing going on, which I honestly figured was just California bully, but it turns out no, they probably weren’t straight either. Which. That took me a few days to digest. So I’ve been thinking about it and I think I just… never let myself like guys? But I definitely like both. I just always went with girls ‘cause that’s what was expected, y’know? So that was a lot to process. It’s still a lot to process, honestly. But I’m getting there? Or I think I am. I at least had something to tell Will, so. There’s that.” He chuckles. “Y’know you’re the third person I told? Will was second. Robin was first, though she kinda told me, instead of the other way around. Sometimes I dunno what I’d do without her. Most times, actually, I dunno what I’d do without her.”

He thinks about Eddie’s grin, the tilt of his jaw. “Welcome to the club.” He’d probably bow. It feels like something he’d bow about. “We have nothing for you because America is a capitalist pigsty and we are all naught but its pawns.”

Steve leaves.

The weeks pass. He returns faithfully, like clockwork.

“It’s been a year,” he whispers one day. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to make it. You were supposed to run, goddammit, why didn’t you run?” He bends in half as the tears come, burying his face in his knees. “Damn you,” he hisses. “This is all your fault, y’know that? I don’t even know how, but I’m in love with a dead man. Do you hear me, Eddie Munson? A dead man! I shouldn’t be in love with you!” He sobs for a few minutes, then forces himself upright. “And the worst part is I’m not even mad at you. Not really. I just- God, why can’t you be here? Why didn’t you run?”

Footsteps behind him. He stiffens, but doesn’t move until he hears the voice, vaguely amused. “Excuse you,” he says, and Steve whips around to find Eddie Munson staring back at him. “I did run. Or I tried. Those fuckers are fast, man.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, drying his tears. “Great. Now I’m hallucinating.”

Hallucination-Eddie kneels beside him, wipes tears from Steve’s cheeks. “Could a hallucination touch you?” He whispers.

Steve stares for a minute before the dam breaks and he’s falling into Eddie, sobbing. “I know,” Eddie murmurs. “I know. I’m so sorry. If it’s any consolation, I definitely did die. I just… didn’t stay dead.” He runs a hand over Steve’s back. “And if it’s any consolation, I was able to hear every one-sided conversation. I appreciate the updates on the kids. And, uh.” He swallows. “I’m pretty sure somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, too.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

#hope this is angst enough for you #honestly? #I hope you cry #that means I did my job right #stranger things #eventual steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #briefly #writing prompts #prompt 16 #prompt 17 #prompt 18 #this was a lot of fun!!! #thank you friend ❤️ #starambles

[roseworth]

"I'm a fool for believing you meant what you said" with bruce & jason maybe?

send me a prompt :)

-

Bruce refused to even breathe. Wouldn’t give Jason any reason to believe he was there. He watched as Jason sat alone in the cemetery, smoking right next to his own grave. Bruce wondered if he should say something or quietly turn around and give him space. 

“So, do you want to come over here or are you just gonna keep lurking back there?” Jason called out before he could decide. Bruce cleared his throat and stepped closer. 

“Hello, Jason.”

“Hello.” Jason took a drag from his cigarette and blew smoke out into the air. “What brings you here?”

“I’m… I didn’t mean to–”

“Because I’m here for Sheila’s grave,” he continued. “But I’m guessing you’re here to check out the empty grave next to hers.”

Bruce watched as Jason twisted the cigarette between his fingers, letting the ash hit the ground in front of him. “I didn’t know you smoked anymore,” Bruce said instead of answering. 

“I don’t,” Jason replied. “But since Sheila smoked over me while I was dying, I think it’s only fair that I smoke on her grave.”

Bruce grunted, and the two of them fell into silence. Jason stared at Sheila’s headstone. Bruce stared at Jason’s. 

“I didn’t know for a long time,” Bruce said quietly. “I didn’t know that she let Joker–”

“I know,” Jason said. “But I forgave her a long time ago, so I don’t think any of it really matters anymore.” He flicked ashes onto the ground, then added, “Well, some of it still matters.”

Bruce sighed quietly. He never knew the right words to say. It felt like every conversation caused the rift between them to grow until they were so far apart it felt like it had never been different.

Even when the two of them were right there, nothing ever seemed to fix it. They were strangers that knew everything about each other. 

“Do you think I would have stayed with her?” Jason asked out of the blue, not tearing his eyes away from the headstone.

“No,” Bruce answered immediately. “I should have done a background check before letting you meet her, I would have found her affiliation with Joker and everything that she did.”

“But if it weren’t like that,” Jason mumbled. “If she really was who I thought she was, would you have let me stay with her?”

“I… I don’t know,” he responded honestly. “I would’ve let you choose, but I… I loved you, Jason. It would have been hard to let you go.”

Jason nodded silently, then took another puff of the cigarette. He watched the smoke rising into the sky, keeping his gaze fixed as it dissipated. 

“Past tense, huh?”

“What?”

“You said ‘loved,’” Jason said. “Past tense.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Really?” he scoffed. “Well, I guess that’s on me for believing you meant what you said.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“It’s fine,” Jason interrupted, putting out his cigarette on the gravestone and standing up. “Shit changes. We’re not the same people we were.”

“I know,” Bruce said quietly.

Jason looked at him for a moment, none of his feelings showing on his face. Bruce feared Jason learned that from him.

Jason shifted his gaze to his own grave, then looked back to Bruce. “Sorry about your dead son.”

#this one is a lil short but <3 thank you for the prompt ❤️ #i did change it a little bit tho oops ! #jason todd #bruce wayne #dc #fanfic #my writing

[theresawritesstuff]

For the ship kiss: 22, sherlolly. Please UwU

(kiss in a rush of adrenaline)

Sherlock paced frantically, trying to puzzle out the deactivation code as Molly and John worked on opposite sides of the plexiglass between them, attempting to defuse the bomb manually as the clock ticked down.

They were running out of time.

"Alright. I'm going to cut the blue wire," John's muffled voice announced.

"Are you sure?" Mycroft wondered skeptically beside him.

"It's always the blue one!"

Sherlock's eyes flew open as the clock began to tick faster.

"I know the deactivation code."

"Great. What is it?" Molly chirped agitatedly, trying to work the wiring on their end to slow down the damage John had caused.

"I love you," he recited.

Molly froze. "What?"

"I love you? Why would Molly have to say I love you?" John wondered.

Mycroft gave the younger man a withering look.

"Perhaps we should give them a–"

"No." Molly's hands worked furiously inside the device.

"Molly–"

"No, Sherlock! I won't say that to you. Not…," she swallowed thickly. "Not like this. We can still figure out another way…"

"There isn't any other way," Sherlock insisted gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Molly shook her head, focusing on the task in front of her, avoiding his eyes.

"I can't," she whispered hoarsely.

"Why not?"

"...Because it's true."

The countdown of the clock became distant, drowned out by his own heartbeat.

"If it's true, why not say it anyway?"

Molly shook her head again, turning to face him, her eyes watery. 

"Guys…" John prompted.

They didn't have much time.

"What if I said it first?" Sherlock offered.

Molly sniffled, turning back in a futile effort to dismantle the bomb. "You've already said it. It won't make a difference now."

"Even if it was true?"

She blinked, looking up at him in shock. 

"What?"

"I love you."

She swallowed resolutely, glancing at the dwindling clock. "Sherlock, don't. I know you're trying to save us, but please, don't–"

"Molly." His hands came up to cup her face, tender even in the midst of desperation. "I love you…"

17…16…15…14…

His lips crashed into hers, promising her beyond what words could convey of his sincerity.

If this was how he was to spend his final breath, at least he'd spend it well.

Molly's fingers anchored around the lapels of his jacket, clinging to him for dear life as she returned the embrace.

5…4…3…

"I love you…" she whispered.

He recaptured her lips, unwilling to part from her.

Her hands trailed up into his hair as she reciprocated in kind.

What a way to die…

Time seemed to slow in those final moments, until everything but her faded from his mind.

"Guys?" John's voice cut through the quiet, interrupting the moment.

They broke the kiss, looking over at him dazed as he stood in the unlocked doorway.

"The bomb stopped," he pointed out. 

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Right."

Molly smirked at her handiwork, despite the tense situation at hand. 

"We'd better go catch your sister," she acquiesced quietly.

"Yes… I suppose we should…"

#Sherlolly #Prompt fill #Thanks for the prompt! ❤️