Absolutely! Also this made me check under my bed for cameras or you because I had in fact not eaten today because I am ill and hadn't psyched myself up to go make it, but I have since rectified that fact dfklgjdflkgjfd
ANYWAY, on with the prompt!
prompt list here!
19. “Have you eaten anything?”
It had been a long and hard week in Seattle for Beca. The call had come in the middle of the night, leaving her to scramble out of bed and hastily cram some clothes into a bag before heading to the airport.
Her mom was in an accident. It looked bad, really bad. Her aunt had told her that she had to get here just in case. So she did, she put all her flight anxiety to oneside and sat in the metal death tube for five and a half hours, flagged down a cab, and went straight to the hospital.
She got there just in time to say goodbye to her mom, sat squeezing her hand tightly as the life support machine was turned off, sobbing into her shoulder as she lost her mom for good.
As her next of kin, Beca now had to figure out what to do with all her mom's stuff, organise the funeral, inform the members of her family what had happened. She emailed her professors to explain she needed a few weeks off and they were thankfully very understanding, the Bellas had offered to drop everything and come out to help her but she turned them down. This was her responsibility, her mom, she had to sort this whole mess out.
"Have you eaten anything?"
Beca sniffed softly as she shook her head. She had been sat on the front porch of her childhood home, staring vacantly out at the street, barely noticing the chilly wind that bit at her skin. She had grown up in Seattle after all, she was used to this kind of cold.
"No. I'm not hungry."
There was a soft sigh from above her before the porch creaked next to her, turning her head slightly to look at the woman now sat beside her. Chloe gave her a small, sad smile, tucking a loose lock of hair behind Beca's ear. It was limp and a little greasy, Beca having been far too busy and lost in her grief to even entertain the idea of a shower since she'd arrived in Seattle.
"You need to eat Becs. You've barely had anything since you got here."
"I know." Beca swallowed thickly, subtly shifting closer to Chloe so she could rest her head on her shoulder, "But everything makes my stomach turn."
"You want to try some soup?" Chloe offered, winding her arm around Beca's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.
"Maybe." Beca nodded a little, "That could be nice."
They sat in silence for a few moments, Beca curling more into Chloe's embrace, slowly trying to get as close to her as possible. Chloe didn't mind, it was one of the reasons she had insisted on coming with Beca. She knew how difficult Beca found it to open to people, to be emotionally vulnerable with anyone, the only other person in the world that Beca would be this close too, figuratively or literally, was her mom.
"I don't want to go tomorrow." Beca's voice was thick as Chloe felt the side of her neck where her face was buried start to grow damp.
"I know baby..." Chloe sighed softly, rubbing small circles on Beca's back and kissing the crown of her head, "But you have to. You'd never forgive yourself if you missed the funeral."
"But if I go then it'll be real..." Beca whispered, "She'll really be gone Chlo, I... I don't want her to be gone, it's not fair."
"It's not." Chloe shook her head, feeling Beca start to shake as her gentle tears turn into sobs, "You're right, it's not fair that she's gone. I wish I could change it for you."
Beca didn't say anything for a while, simply sobbing in Chloe's embrace. Chloe stroked her hair, shushing her softly but letting her cry herself out. She hadn't cried since the hospital, and that had been five days ago. Beca was really good at bottling her emotions up until they exploded out at the wrong moment, and with a loss of this magnitude, if she crammed it all down it would destroy her. So Chloe would let her feel everything that she needed to, let her be angry or sad or irritated or tired, or even a combination of the above, and not take it to heart, because at the end of the day at least Beca was feeling something.
"I'm really glad you're here." Beca croaked as her sobs subsided, sitting up a little as she wiped at her face with her sleeve and resting her forehead against Chloe's, "I... I wouldn't be able to do this without you. Thank you for coming."
"Of course." Chloe smiled at her brushing her hair from her face again, "Even though you insisted on me staying at home?"
"Yeah." Beca managed a small grin in return, "I'm glad you didn't listen to me."
"C'mon." Chloe took Beca's hands in hers, gently encouraging her to her feet, "It's cold out here, your hands are turning red. Let's get you something to eat inside."
"Okay." Beca nodded, "Would you be mad if I said I wanted pizza and not soup?"
"No." Chloe grinned, arm around Beca's waist, "What made you want pizza instead?"
"Mom and I really like this place a few blocks away, they do these insanely good cheesy garlic knots." Beca shrugged a little, expression getting watery again, "I just... I thought it would nice to share that with you."
"That's really sweet Becs." Chloe beamed at her, "I'd like that."
"Cool." Beca swallowed thickly, eyes roaming over the familiar interior of the home she had grown up in, feeling that ache settle in her chest again, "I wish she got to meet you Chloe. She would've loved you."
"Me too." Chloe nodded sadly, "I never got to thank her for giving me you."
Okay Everyone, we are getting right back into things, just as we have said! And it just so happened that we managed to have a wonderful time writing today! It was for a prompt - we will be posting that stuff tomorrow - but here is a little sneak peek into things! c:
Her body is forced to a standstill, hands grabbing onto her shoulders and the Fear shrieks through her, forcing a shudder as she chokes on the terror. She almost bolts, stops dead as she takes in the pools of glacial peace, notes the frown that instantly drowns the Fear in favor of the cold dread of Concern. She blinks, forces her brain to shift the proper gears in order to understand the situation before her.
Someone is having a very rough time, it seems. But as always, there is going to be that person that helps you out of things, right?
Always enjoy writing a good almost-panic state, only for things to calm and chill when that person comes to help out. Or try and fail to.
193 “We’re locked in a fucking shed, and no one’s here to let us out” + ship of your choosing :)
*rubs hands together* hehehehehehe. thank you for this though, it was a fun venture!
this is my home (you are my home) - a dousy fic
"I knew you were cheating. As a matter of fact --" He narrowed his eyes as a memory from the last hour flashed through his mind. "You tipped the Jenga tower on me on purpose , didn't you?"
As it was, Daisy simply just smirked. "It's Trouble , Agent Sousa. You can't not expect me to cause any in a game that's just named for it. And as for the Jenga, well." She held his gaze as she popped the bubble, chuckling when he swallowed hard. "Sometimes you have to put a chain of events into motion yourself if you ever want to get to where you're going."
LOL that last ask was supposed to be a kissing prompt? I have no idea what happened to the rest of my ask, jesus christ tumblr lol. I can't remember which one I'd asked previously but imma go this time with #27 Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap and hope that the full ask goes through this time, haha.
I figured you were just being friendly! The lack of punctuation did throw me though hahaha. Anyway, for you, this fill that ended up Weirder and with More Feelings than I had originally intended <3
~
“This,” Billy tells him, looking supremely bored as he says it, even though Steve can see his urge to shy away in the tension of his jaw, his shoulders, “Is really fucking stupid, Harrington.”
They’re standing chest to chest in the bathroom and there’s not really enough room for two of them in here. Steve doesn’t disagree that it’s stupid. He just also doesn’t really see that there’s any other option. “She said it’s important that you be there,” he points out, probably for the ten millionth time in the last hour.
It’s been two weeks since Billy Hargrove came back into his life, sliding into a chair at the bar Steve works at, now, at the edge of Hawkins, and ordering a beer like Steve wouldn’t drop the glass when he saw him. It’s not like he didn’t know Billy was alive. The kids had broken that news to him gently, two years and four days after they’d been sure he was dead, when El had woken up screaming and called for Will who called Mike who called Lucas who called Max who called Dustin who–finally–called Steve.
Steve had thought, because Dustin had explained the he-said-she-said nature of things, that Dustin must have heard wrong. He hadn’t been sure, at the time, what else Billy Hargrove is alive could be, but there must be something.
Except Dustin hadn’t heard wrong. Billy Hargrove was alive, and another nearly two years had passed before anyone really talked with him. According to Dustin, Max did sometimes, but just not regularly, and then he’d shown up in the bar, and, “I need a place to stay?” he’d said, once Steve was done cleaning up the glass he’d broken when he’d seen him.
And so that’s how Steve got a legally-dead, but super-actually-alive roommate, which is how they’ve ended up in the bathroom, because it’s the night of Max’s graduation from high school and Billy wants to go and Billy is also terrified of being recognized.
Probably because he’s supposed to be dead. Steve hasn’t learned a whole lot about the last four years of Billy’s life, yet, but he gets the feeling that Billy likes that people think he’s dead, which is where this whole plan had come from.
“Why,” Billy is saying slowly, “Would anyone be convinced because I’m wearing lipstick and sunglasses that I’m not–y’know, me.”
“I feel like no one would say–ow, you don’t need to bite my fucking finger–”
“You don’t need to put it in my mouth to put lipstick on me this is a fucking stupid plan–”
And this has been the last twenty minutes of Steve’s life, and it is a stupid plan, he just doesn’t have a better one. It’s not like Billy can roll up to the graduation in a Halloween mask, which had been his only contribution to plotting, thank you very much.
Steve glares at Billy, which is hard to do when they’re standing so close, because this bathroom really is small. “Stop being such an asshole and wear the lipstick,” Steve says, and then he’s gripping Billy’s jaw tight in one hand and wielding the stick of lipstick in the other.
The wielding, actually, was probably his first mistake.
Or his thirtieth, honestly, and he should have just called Nancy, because what happens is Billy flinches hard and shoves him. Steve doesn’t even think he means to, that he just kind of does, and Billy’s snarling, don’t grab my face like that, but it doesn’t actually matter, because Steve topples backwards into the tiny fucking shower, yanking the curtain down with him as he goes.
Billy ends up on top of him, and Steve realizes he’d pulled him down in the tumbling part of things. He doesn’t even feel bad about it, as he looks up at Billy, who’s straddling his hips now, who has a line of lipstick drawn across his mouth and up his face looking like a jagged scar.
“Sorry,” Steve breathes, even though Billy had shoved him, and Billy’s looking at him so weird. It makes heat creep down Steve’s collar, although he doesn’t know why, but maybe it’s because Billy’s sitting in his lap and looking at him with his blue eyes kind of dark, his lips kind of parted, and–
Honestly, Steve probably should’ve seen it coming. He doesn’t even have time to flinch when Billy ducks down and hauls Steve in by the collar, when he presses their mouths together, something hot and desperate, all teeth and tongue and warmth singing under Steve’s skin wherever he and Billy touch.
When the kiss breaks, they stay close, Billy’s forehead pressed against his, sharing air as they both pant. Steve realizes he’s got his hands fisted in Billy’s shirt, and that’s what’s keeping him so close. Steve’s hand is hesitant as he drops it to Billy’s side, pushing it just under his shirt, stroking over his skin.
Billy grabs his wrist. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, but not rough, “Harrington. I–there’s–you don’t want to see all that.”
Steve thinks of how Billy had “died” the first time and lets his hand drop. He has questions, but if Billy’s living with him now, for a while, he’s also got time to get answers. He presses a cautious, soft kiss against Billy’s mouth, not sure if they do this now, or if it was a one time thing, but Billy stays close. He doesn’t yank away, so Steve figures he’s definitely got time to get his questions answered, but right now–
“We do need a new plan,” Steve admits. “You look fucking ridiculous like this,” and Billy groans and drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder, and Steve laughs harder than he has in a long fucking time.
At least, that’s what it felt like to Brock, an argument that never should have happened, but did anyway. Himself and Jack have been tired the past few days, work hours start to get late, and they never really have any time together, just the two of them. It came to a head when they were deciding on what to get for dinner, being bone tired all they wanted was takeout. Yet, even then they couldn’t come to a mutual agreement, which ended up spiralling into heated words, where neither one of them really won in the end.
It’s been two hours since they argued, Jack left their little townhouse and went for a drive, while Brock stayed back. For those two hours he sat on the front steps, watching the lightning flash in the distance, as he waited for Jack to come home. Dinner was an afterthought, in favour of a cigarette instead, which Brock takes a long drag from, before stubbing it out and tossing it into a bottle with a little water inside. They’ve always had petty fights now and again, but this one seems to have been brewing for awhile now, they simply didn’t see it unfolding.
Brock sighs, then pulls his phone out of his pocket, staring down at the screen displaying the text he’d sent to Jack.
Please come home.
As if on cue, the familiar bright lights of Jack’s motorcycle appear at the end of the street, before he slows down when he gets to the driveway of their house. Jack parks beside Brock’s car, then takes his helmet off, as Brock watches, quietly. He flicks his hair out of his face, it’s starting to get long, with a few strands of grey showing. Brock usually chirps him about it, but he can’t speak, he is also showing signs of ageing, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes being one. They’re still fairly spry in their forties though, so Brock doesn’t complain much, neither does Jack.
In the time it took Brock to come out of his thoughts, Jack was already standing in front of him, carrying a pizza box in one hand, his helmet in the other. He offers the pizza to Brock, wordlessly, and Brock takes it, because the last thing they need right now is another fight. Jack sits down beside him, sighs deeply, then turns his attention over to Brock. All they do is stare, for a moment, trying to read what the other is saying with their eyes. But it’s Jack that makes the first move, his hand coming up to cup the back of Brock’s neck, the leather of his gloves cool against Brock’s skin.
Brock leans into it, he loves to be touched, and loves to know that Jack wants to touch him too. A touch like this means more than words ever could for him, even when Jack’s gloved fingers stroke through his hair, it means so much. Jack’s hand stays when he reaches for the pizza box to open it, revealing a pizza inside that is one half his favourite, and one half Brock’s favourite. And Brock’s face goes through a hundred emotions, before he settles on a smile, directing it right at Jack, who tilts his head down to press a kiss on Brock’s temple.
“I’m sorry,” Jack says.
Brock’s smile drops for a second.
“Me too, Jackie.”
Jack smiles and Brock’s heart stutters, because Jack’s smile is what brightens his day, it beams like sunshine.
“Do you wanna’ go inside?”
Jack shakes his head, as he wraps his arm around Brock’s shoulder, draws him into his side, then lazily caresses his hand along Brock’s shoulder.
“Let’s stay out here for a while…it’s a beautiful night,” he replies, his voice soft.
prompt: 13 “I love you, I always have.”momojirou | established relationship, pro heroes future fic, fluff | rating: G | words: 303
Mina has been trying to coax all the girls to take that “Which Pro Hero Heartthrob Is Your Ideal Date?” quiz that’s been linked several times in their LINE group as a joke, but after Tsuyu, Ochako and Tooru all got Bakugou Mina transformed it into a “who can get someone else other than Bakugou” game. Kyouka has watched Kaminari taking the very same quiz five times and getting Bakugou every single time—it’s pointless.
Kyouka glances up when the couch dips next to her. Momo hands her a glass of soda with a small, private smile. For a split second Kyouka just stares at her gorgeous girlfriend—her girlfriend, it’s still so new—but she gathers herself soon enough and takes the glass. When she sees Momo dropping her hand on the couch between them, she switches the glass into her left hand and reaches out to lace their fingers together.
All of their friends know they’re dating, but this is only the second friends meetup they’ve been to as a couple, even if both were just Mina inviting the girls to her place for an afternoon.
While Kyouka wasn’t paying attention the topic switched to high school crushes. It’s only been two years since they graduated, but it still feels like forever ago when they were still “The Class A of U.A.”.
Mina is in the middle of confessing her two weeks long crush on Monoma of all people, giggling, when Kyouka squeezes Momo’s hand to get her attention.
Momo turns to her.
“Kyouka-san?”
“I love you,” Kyouka whispers. They’ve both said it a few times, but her heart is still racing every time she thinks about it. “I always have.” She knows her face must be embarrassingly red, but it’s all worth the beautiful blush she gets as a reaction.
