#I don’t blame them for this at all but it was just a wee bit inconvenient

[theworstcreature]

Ok so I’m case anybody missed (or gave up on) the worlds glitchiest ajr live stream ever here’s what happened

TOUR DATES WILL BE GIVEN SOON

YES IM A MESS MUSIC VIDEO ALSO VERY SOON LETS FUCKING GO 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

TRACK THIRTEEN ISNT GOING TO BE ON TJE SLBUM BUT WE WILL HEAR IT EVENTUALLY

THEY SAID ONE SONG OFF LIVING ROOM WILL BE PLAYED ON TOUR (I swear to god if it’s pitchfork kids I’ll actually go FERAL OMG)

There will be EASTER EGGS IN TMM

It also crashed like THREE OR FOUR TIMES till they switched over to instagram live which ✨ACTUALLT FICKING WORKS✨

Anyways I think that’s all lmk if I missed anything important

Also

✨🎵ITS THE AJR LIVErSTREAM🎵✨

[moonstruckme]

Hey! I have a potentially odd request and I’m not sure if you write stuff like this anyway so if not please just disregard. I am in a strikingly similar situation Sirius with Regulus and for some reason this past week I’ve been feeling guilty as hell. Could you maybe do something where Remus and James are comforting Sirius like it’s okay, it’s not your fault, you had to leave, etc? Or maybe something with Remus James and Sirius comforting reader with the same idea but Sirius being especially emotional and like it’s okay, I get it, you can’t blame yourself etc? Thank you lovely <3 <3

Hi sweetheart! I wasn’t sure exactly which Siri+Reg situation you meant but my first thought was the one where Sirius left Reg alone in their parents’ home, so I hope that’s what you were intending. Thanks sm for requesting! It was a great excuse to listen to regina spektor’s two birds on repeat :’) 

cw: implied past abuse, older sibling guilt (also I am a wee bit drunk editing this so if it’s bad let’s blame it on that)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“I know,” you croak, and you’re speaking quietly enough that Remus gathers you aren’t eager to be overheard, but you’ve made no move to go upstairs and have a truly private conversation. You lie on your back on the couch, one hand covering your eyes and the other holding your phone to your ear. “Yeah, I know how they are. No, it sucks, I just—” 

You press your lips together as the voice on the other end of the phone increases in volume. When it pauses, you hum. “Yeah, I get that. I think it’s a good idea. Just keep to yourself, if you can. It’ll be okay. I’ll try and—no, I know.” You swallow thickly. Remus’ heart heavies. 

He sneaks a look at your boyfriends, both pretending to be busy whilst they eavesdrop. Sirius, just on the other end of the couch, has ceased typing on his laptop and is scrolling aimlessly back and forth on the same page. Meanwhile, James is stirring a pot of water on the stove that’s barely simmering. They look about as tense as Remus feels, Sirius most of all. They all know who you’re talking to. They can gauge the subject. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice dips, quiet and abashed. “I want to, I just—wait, don’t—” 

You let the phone drop onto the couch, releasing a sigh as you bring your other hand to your face. They hung up. 

There are a few seconds of fraught silence before James pipes up from the kitchen, “Everything alright, angel?” 

You hum in affirmation, but the sound is pitchy and broken. 

Sirius forgoes pretense. He closes his laptop, setting it aside. “What did they want?” 

You take in a deep, shuddering breath. It’s not enough; your voice cracks anyway. “For me to come home,” you say, the last word a sob. 

James switches the stove off, nearly jogging into the living room to be at your side. 

“I’m sorry, dove,” Remus says quietly. “I know it must be hard, but you did the right thing by leaving.” 

“I don’t think so,” you choke out. James makes a pained sound as he sits by your feet, between you and Sirius, and rubs his big hands up and down your calves consolingly. Remus sneaks a glance at Sirius, and his boyfriend has his jaw clamped tight, watching you with heartache in his pale eyes. 

“You did,” James says. “Sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” 

You shake your head, still hiding behind your hands. “I—I can’t—” You nearly lunge for James, who looks all too relieved to take you into his arms. He maneuvers you so you’re in his lap, sitting sideways with your face pressed against his collar. His palm covers the back of your head. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he hushes you, tone fraught with a compassion so intense it sounds like it hurts. “It’s okay. Just cry it out if you need to.” 

You do. You cry until Remus is sure your head has to be pounding. You don’t try to breathe through it, don’t wipe your nose as it runs. Your tears come hot and fast and painfully quiet, like you learned how to hide them as soon as you learned how to cry. Sirius doesn’t tear his gaze from you as your shoulder’s shake and James’ shirt grows wet. When he swallows thickly, Remus reaches over from the armchair to take his hand. 

Once your tears start to slow, Sirius says, voice uncharacteristically quiet, “The best thing you can do is give them the advice you wish someone had given you.” His free hand twitches in his lap, and Remus realizes he’s keeping still on purpose, not messing with his hair or crossing his arms or doing any of the things that would give away how upset he is. “You can’t go back.” 

“I know,” you mumble into James’ shirt. 

“Do you?” Remus asks gently. “I understand if you want to, right now, but you just…you have to do what’s best for yourself.” 

A powerful sob shakes you, and James’ palm presses into your back with something akin to desperation. “I’m the big sister,” you say. “I’m supposed to be there for them.” 

“You didn’t ask for that.” Sirius’ words are inlaid with a quiet ardency. “It’s not—you can’t blame yourself.” 

You sniffle, pulling your face from James’ front to look at Sirius. There’s a rawness between you that hurts Remus to look at. “I know you know what it’s like,” you tell him, voice wavering on the edge of a whimper, “and I’m sorry. I just—” you take a ragged inhale “—didn’t think it would feel like this.” 

James looks like he is just barely restraining himself from tucking your head back into his shoulder, but he holds still as Sirius pulls his hand from Remus’ to reach for you, pushing a damp piece of hair away from your eye. 

“Baby, you don’t need to be sorry,” he promises. “I get it. It’s hard to feel okay about it at first, but you’ll…it gets easier.” 

You nod, and even though it’s obvious to all of them that you’re only being a good sport, Sirius offers you a small smile. 

“What made it easier?” you ask softly, swiping under your eyes. James coos and bushes your hands away gently, kissing your tears off for you. 

Sirius looks between Remus and James, then shrugs. “I don’t know. Drinking, maybe.” 

“Fuck off.” Remus sticks out a foot, pushing at Sirus’ thigh harshly. “Does she seem like she’s in the mood for jokes?”

But you laugh wetly, and they all grin for hearing it, James mushing a few quick kisses into the side of your head. 

“Gonna turn our sweet girl into an alcoholic,” he says against your skin. 

“Fine.” Sirius rolls his eyes extravagantly. “I don’t know, I guess you guys helped a bit too.” 

Before Sirius can react, James has an arm around his neck, tugging him close. “Oh, you,” James says, and Sirius makes a horrified squawking sound as his boyfriend presses a firm kiss to his temple, then yours. “Such a romantic. We helped a bit, huh?” 

Remus hums. “Ingrate.” 

“The point,” Sirius says, wrestling free of James’ grip, “is that it does get better.” He looks at you, features softening. “It’s not that it’s ever easy. But give it time.” 

“Got it.” You give him a small smile. Still wan, but more genuine than the last. “Thanks.” 

“Do whatever you need to to feel better, sweetheart,” Remus tells you, leaning forward until you meet his eye. “Just stay with us, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.” 

You lean into James’ side, the affection in your gaze all too heavy. “I could never.”

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?

note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)

and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶‍♀️

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz

“—stop getting in my way.”

"or what?"

silence.

then, an exasperated groan.

“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”

the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.

your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.

“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”

jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.

a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.

only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.

trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.

he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.

but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.

“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.

the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.

said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”

eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.

two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.

(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)

mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.

what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.

momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.

no bells and whistles, just diligence.

soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.

trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.

mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.

with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.

from trevor.

with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.

mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.

it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.

“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”

“—m’sorry,” you whimper.

his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”

your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.

“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”

a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.

trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."

"no—only want y-you."

it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.

your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.

“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."

in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.

“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."

his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.

...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.

not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.

you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.

trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.

they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.

you surrender.

and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.

the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.

—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.

you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.

sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.

trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.

he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."

giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.

mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.

you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.

naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.

trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."

your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.

"—not you, silly bunny. them."

aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.

"you're joking."

"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."

you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.

watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.

their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.

trevor always knows what you need.

when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.

it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.

on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.

jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."

a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.

"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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[soulsbleedink]

𝙊𝙍𝙋𝙃𝙄𝘾 | 𝙍𝘼𝙔𝙇𝘼 𝙓 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙐𝙈

Prompt: Callum braids Rayla's hair, and she tells him about the two elves she grew up with at the Silvergrove, and how Callum really reminds her of one of them.

Warning[s]: No heavy ones, I'm sure. Mentions of doubt, perhaps.

Pairing: Rayla x Callum

Word count: 1.5k

masterlist

i missed rayllum, so i had to write them. i have ruthari in the works. i love them so much. and we have rayllum/ruthari parallels!! gosh, i love them <3 have fun reading :D

Callum’s hands brushed over Rayla’s hair, soft as he carded his fingers through the white strands. He hummed to her softly. They were sitting on Ezran’s balcony, she was sitting with her knees up to her chest, back facing him. His staff was discarded a few inches away, and Stella was eyeing them with what Rayla knew as disgust. Bait grunted, nudging Stella, who turned away, sitting down. Rayla’s hair had come undone earlier when Zym kept on bouncing on her, and now that Ez finally managed to take him away, these two were left alone. And Callum kept on fidgeting while she kept on touching her hair. She thought it was a neat deal. And that’s how they ended up how they were, not that she minded one bit. Recently, it had been a bit awkward between them, so to be able to just be there with him, without all of the emotions thick in the air, it felt much nicer than she could say. 

“It’s been a while,” She said, about what in particular or to who, she didn’t know either. Callum stopped with his motions, holding together the strands of hair that hadn’t been braided yet. She just knew that if he didn’t already have her hair in his hands he would be fidgeting. 

“I know,” He said, finally. The silence was killing her, and with every second of it, she kind of was wishing she hadn’t spoken at all. But his hands continued their way through, braiding her hair. She remembered the last time Ezran had asked how she’d gotten her hair so long, but the thing was, she didn’t know either. She just supposed she hadn’t found the time to cut it. Or just the opportunity at all.

“Has it been lonely?” He asked, she wished he hadn’t. What was she meant to say? Of course it had. It was disgustingly lonely, especially those first few months without him, and she wanted to tell him that, but she partially blamed herself, but there was anger somewhere deep in there, for him, or to him. She didn’t even know that much. 

“Yeah,” That’s what she ended up saying. And it didn’t make up for everything she’d like to say. Callum’s breath grew softer, and she knew that he was well aware of just how much there probably was brewing beneath the surface, but he didn’t push. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, tying her braid, but his hands resting on her shoulders. 

She blushed, but didn’t move; didn’t stop him. “Don’t be, it had to be done.” 

“But did it, actually?” He asked. And that kind of stopped her thoughts. No one had actually questioned her actions. Well Ethari would’ve, but she was turned into a ghost at the Silvergrove. Still, if she ever returned, Ethari would be there. But she couldn’t bear to bother him. 

“I was thinking it would.” Her voice had gone quieter. Callum squeezed her shoulder, pulling her closer. Until her head was on his chest.

“Listen to this,” He whispered, pressing her head closer to where his heart would be. “You thought so. And that’s okay.” She noticed from his peripheral vision that he was looking up, right into the moon. 

But did he know that she was kind of mad? That she wasn’t right? That no, she definitely was mad. Everything about leaving the people you love, for their sake, and for your own, just to come out fruitless. It stung, like nothing else did. And she also hated that Callum was acting like Ethari had to Runaan. She didn’t remember it too well, she was but a wee elfling. But, she knew that they had a moment that was literally a parallel to this. 

“Are you sure it is? Do you think it is? It hurt you.” She was never good at opening up, but she didn’t like—hated how this hurt him. And the fact that she didn’t even succeed. 

“Yes, it is. I may not think it is. But, it’s okay…” He sounded uncertain, like he didn’t value his own words enough. She reached back, squeezing one of his hands.

“Then it isn’t—” She tried to declare, but he tapped one of her horns. She stilled.

“Yes, it is. That’s final. Don’t start arguing with me on this,” He said, leaning closer so she could see his smile. “I’ve not had time spent with just you in so long, so, let’s make the most of this.”

She didn’t know how, but she found Ethari in a human, and that was beyond her too. “Okay, Ethari.”

“Excuse me?” Callum asked, ever polite. A bit unlike him, but that was cute as it was.

“You’re acting so much like him,” She explained, leaning back so she could smile up at him. He blushed. She remembered when Ethari had said she was like Runaan, and now this all felt a bit too canny. Her face was growing warmer.

“I’m flattered—” He started.

“You don’t know him, though?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know him well, but from our brief introduction, and the way you talk about him. I can deduce that he’s a great guy.” Callum shrugged.

Rayla hit him playfully. He grinned lopsidedly, moving one hand away so he could search through his bag, and then he pulled out… flowers. She eyed him with confusion.

“Turn around.” He gently turned her back. 

“What are you going to do?” She asked, still just as confused as she was.

“Take a guess,” He said. Her unamused silence was answer enough. “I’ll decorate your hair with flowers.” Oh, they were just Ethari and Runaan at this point. She remembered this so well, she actually had interrupted this very moment before. Albeit, without realising that it was an interruption at all. Heat crawled up her spine, up her neck, and reached the tip of her ears. Callum was ever relaxed, hands already finding their way back into the braid. 

With gentle tugs, he did whatever it was he was thinking of doing. She felt the stems as he weaved them in. His soft huffs of concentration were beyond adorable to her. She hummed softly, a tune she recognised Ethari humming to Runaan, a few years back. She would relive that memory every time she felt too lost in the past two years. It was her means of coping. She would think about it when she couldn’t sleep at night, or when she felt so lonely. And like she needed Callum to tell her that she could make it through. 

“Rayla?” Callum’s hands were resting around her waist now, and his head was on her shoulder, voice a soft breath against the side of her neck. She hummed. “You zoned out.”

“Sorry, Callum,” She whispered. He chuckled, telling her it’s okay. “You really remind me of Ethari. Should I tell you—”

“Tell me about anything, and I’ll listen,” He said, earnest as ever.

She started recounting when Ethari was braiding Runaan’s hair and she ended up walking in on them. Well, they were sitting in a meadow, so was it considered walking in on them? 

Ethari was working, focused, as always. And Rayla didn’t think she would ever see Runaan smiling, but here he was, smiling and even humming. She wouldn’t ever forget that tune. Ethari would hum it to her at night, when he would tuck her into bed. 

“Runaan… hold still please.” Ethari didn’t sound frustrated in the slightest as he tugged on his husband’s hair yet again, slipping the biggest silver cuff on. The last time Rayla had it, she was wearing it like a bracelet. Because of the sheer size. 

Runaan laughed while Rayla peeked her head out from behind a bush. He was apparently too entranced to notice the rustling, which Rayla had thought was too loud—She inched forward, Ethari looked up. Oh no. He smiled. Oh. She walked over to them. Runaan finally looked at her, holding his arms out for her. She jumped right in, finding her place there. 

“Can you do my hair like that next?” She turned around in Runaan’s arms, peeking up at Ethari. Who smiled, nodding enthusiastically. 

She didn’t know when it happened but at some point she’d swapped places with Runaan, and the assassin was sitting in front of her, watching Ethari, absolutely enamoured, just by him simply doing someone’s hair. 

“You remind me of Ethari, yeah,” Rayla finished. By the time she was done talking, she was completely relaxed in Callum’s arms. 

“Are you saying you’re enamoured by me?” He asked, she just knew he was snickering. And she would be sure to wipe it right off his face. She turned around, hitting him playfully. He burst out laughing, and she tried to maintain her glare, but she grinned anyway, looking away from him. 

“Oh, shut it!” 

She didn’t actually want him to, though. Being around him helped, it made everything feel less horrible. She felt as long as she could be back with him after everything. She would be fine. She remembered Runaan saying something like that at some point, and she really wondered then about the integrity of it all. But she kind of understood it now. Callum was her Ethari, in some way. Well, he did remind her of Ethari. It didn’t matter. He was Callum, Katolis’ high mage, and her slightly stupid human.

[giggly-squiggily]

okay prompt. uhh tokyo revengers

okay mitsuya brainrot so let’s see if i can come up with something ummm

he’s trying to do something, like sew or embroider or read or whatever. draken and mikey are screwing around and being loud and mitsuya gets a wee bit annoyed (very rare, he’s so Chill) and is like ARE YOU FIVE and draken and mikey are like, sassy mitsuya???? so they start poking him and annoying him on purpose and it turns into them just tickling him so he stops pouting lmao

as per usual, just delete if you aren’t feeling it!! <3

I blame @ticklish-n-stuff and @duckymcdoorknob (lovingly) for this- their Tokyo Revengers love has infected me and made me wanna rewatch/finish the show kjakjrekjarjkejkr I adore Mitsuya- this is so much fun! I've gotcha covered, friend!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @cupcake-spice13

“Say that again, shrimp- I dare you!”

“Ooo, that’s so scary coming from the BFG!”

“You wanna die today, Mikey?”

Mitsuya felt his eye twitch, the pattern of his latest project seeming to blur with each exchange going on around him. He was never going to get this done!

“Balk, balk balk! Mother Ken is angry!” Mikey made chicken noises, crossing his eyes and flapping his arms before taking off running, Draken in toe. The room wasn’t that small, but somehow these two managed to make it feel smaller. Pillows flew, a notebook Mitsuya forgot he even had gone soaring high, along with a handful of pens Mikey attempted to throw like ninja stars.

When a spar pin cushion bonked him in the head- thankfully lacking any pins in it- Mitsuya had enough.

“Are you two FIVE?” He snapped, twisting in his seat to glare. Mikey and Draken were in a sort of crouch, the bigger of the two’s hand around Mikey’s ponytail and said boy’s hand pulling Draken down by the side of his mouth. Both blinked owlishly at him. “Calm your asses down! This isn’t the playpen at a nursery!”

With that, he twisted around in his seat, returning to his project. Silence fell upon the room following it, something charged in the air. For a brief moment, Mitsuya wondered if he went too far.

A poke to the ribs told him otherwise.

“Oo, someone’s mad.” Mikey cooed, his face unnervingly cheeky. “We pissed off Taka, Kenny!”

“So we did.” Another poke to his other side made him jerk back, leaning away from the devilish look in Draken’s gaze. “Can’t have that, can we?”

“Go away! You two are pissing me off more now!” Mitsuya tried to stay mad, but each prod and poke tapped away at his mood, forcing his arms against his sides as he struggled not to smile. “Stop poking me, I’m working!”

“Oo, he’s working, Kenny! Better stop it now!” Poke poke poke.

“Don’t look at me, Mikey, you’re the one egging him on. Look, he’s getting red!” Poke poke poke.

Mitsuya was slightly flushed, the efforts to not burst into giggles right there proving difficult. “G-Go away! Bo-oth of yo-ou, sta-ahp thaht!”

“Oo, he’s laughing!” The pokes came to a halt. Mitsuya let out a sigh of relief. Behind him, Draken raised an eyebrow to Mikey. The shorter man nodded.

The next thing Mitsuya knew, twenty fingers were attacking his sides.

“AH! Ahehahahahahahha! Nohohohohoho, dohohoohn’t you dahhahahahahre!” Mitsuya squealed, flailing forward before sinking back in his chair, trying to curl up against the vicious attack. “Dohohohohn’t tihihihihihickle mehehehehehehehe!”

“Oo, why not? We’re only wittle five year olds! We don’t listen!” Mikey cooed at him in his best baby voice, snickering when Mitsuya cackled. “I wanna juice box!”

“And some animal crackers.” Draken added, moving his fingers up to the silver blonde’s belly, making him spasm. “Though that just sounds like a normal thing for you, Mikey. Sure you’re not secretly five? You pass for it being that short.”

“You know what, Kenny-”

“Guhuuhuuhuhys pelhahahhahhahahase!” Mitsuya howled, kicking his feet some when Mikey switched to his neck, pressing in all the sensitve spots. “Ahehahahahaha, dohohohohon’t! Iihihihihiihhm gohoohhoohohnna kihihihiihll yoohohohohohohou!”

“Threatening Toman’s leader? How bold.” Draken snickered, squeezing his hips. “You’re lucky we like you, Taka.”

“Yeah! And you make good brownies in a mug. I suppose I can let it slide.” Mikey nodded in agreement, snorting when the taller boy squealed, voice near silent. “Are you still mad?”

“NOHOHOHOOHOHOO!”

“Gonna forgive us?” Draken grinned, squeezing Mitsuya’s knee and making him kick.

“YEHEHEHEHEHS!”

“...Can I still have a juice box?”

“FIIHIHIHNE NOW STAHHHAHAHAP!”

The tickles finally came to an end. Mitsuya groaned through residue giggles as he sank further in his chair, nearly falling out. His vision was slightly blurred, and his body felt both light and exhausted- tingling from the tickles. Above him, Mikey and Draken laughed and cheered, high fiving.

“Jeheherks.” He groaned, shooting his hands out to jab them in the pits. Mikey all but flailed backwards while Draken jerked with a snort. “I hahahte you!”

“No you don’t.” Mikey recovered, ruffling Mitsuya’s hair until he was laughing once more. “So, where’s my juice box?”

“I don’t have any on me.” He confessed, earning a small pout from Mikey. “But I’ll buy you one. We can go down to the convenience store a few blocks from here.

“Whoo-hooo! You hear that Kenny? Juice!” Mikey cheered, already running out the door like a little kid. Draken laughed, standing up and pulling Mitsuya to his feet. 

“He really does act like a child. Heh, you good Taka?” The taller of the two looked around, wincing at the clutter. “Sorry about your room.”

“Don’t worry about it. You two can clean it up when we get back.” The silver haired teen shrugged, smacking Draken on the back as they headed out. “Hey, when I poked you-”

“Want round two?” Draken’s hand squeezed his hip out of nowhere, making the other jump back with a squeak.

“N-Nohoho!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Thanks for reading!

[swampstew]

Meet the Kid Pirates HR Director/Emotional Support Human ~ Heat

Ok, look I get it. The Kid Pirates look raving mad and chaotic. I don’t blame you for feeling nervous when you see one up close and personal. They’re tall, loud, violent, and brash, and their outfits! I swear to you though, Heat is by FAR the least aggressive out of ALL of them. Unless you’re an enemy, in which case Heat will roast you like a rotisserie chicken. Within the crew though? He’s the man! He looks a bit like a ghoul, but he’s a ghoul with a heart of gold. He’s Heat the Director of HR.

Meet the Master Strategist Strategist 🡢  ☠️ Meet your Vice-Captain 🡢  ☠️ Meet your Captain -> ☠️

When he’s in work mode, Heat takes his job seriously. With Wire’s assistance, the two run ship operations on behalf of Kid and Killer. They assign tasks to the crew, keep the ship up to Kid’s standards, and handle all the micro inconveniences of being a Captain that Kid doesn’t like want to do.

Since Heat’s super power is his empathy – no, not his fire breathing though that is also very useful – he’s the person who everyone comes to talk to. Be it professional advice, personal help, talk the shit, whatever, Heat is always down to clown or just talk to people. He’s a laid back guy, bit of a people pleaser, who enjoys other peoples company for the most part; unlike his three comrades who are more introverted than him, the guy with deep scars engrained in his face and neck.

Heat loves to party. Any reason is a good one to cut loose, get drunk, over indulge in Killer’s cooking, and have fun. A pirate’s life is grueling as it is awesome, so Heat tries to live every day to the fullest. You can also attribute his laid back attitude to all the weed he smokes. He’s Wire’s best customer! Sober or not sober, Heat’s attitude is the same either way. He might have a melancholy face but the dude is the nicest son of a gun on the entire ship. He once admitted that the crew is his family and being a pirate is everything he ever wanted, that’s why he’s so happy all the time. Awww.

As talented as he is with complex feelings and crew management, Heat also has another super skill. No its still not the fire breathing. The man can do hair. Have you seen his flawless locs? He twists them himself and has been for years. He’s the unofficial hair stylist on the crew for anyone needing help dying their hair. What, you thought the baby blue was natural? HAH. His outfit of choice was of course, like everyone else on the crew, created with an assist by Wire. That’s his bro. His bro would never let him leave the house ship looking like an idiot.

Oh my gods ok enough with the fire breathing, I know you want to know! The truth is…shrugs shoulders…its just a thing he does. He doesn’t have a devil fruit power and he’s pretty positive he wasn’t cursed by a Witch. Ever since he was a wee lad, Heat has had the gift of fire breathing. It does come in handy, its saved his life plenty of times before he was a pirate and before he was a gang leader too.

No one on this ship had a happy childhood. If they had happy childhoods, do you think they’d be sailing around the world with someone who is basically their hotheaded, younger brother with a higher body count than Dracule Mihawk, and actually take orders from him? Fucking ridiculous. Everyone's emotional irregulation and anger issues means Heat's work is never done. His therapist cup runneth over.

He's the person you can relate to the most out of the top brass, the one who handles most internal conflicts within the crew that are not Boss-related incidents. Heat is compassionate but it doesn’t make him a pushover. He’s The Guy who enforced the word BOUNDARIES on the Victoria Punk just so the Captain couldn’t bully the fuck out of everyone smaller than him. Those peaceful and lull moments on the ship? Your bedroom door not being kicked down on Kid’s every whim? Yeah, thank Heat for those.

Heat's heart and soul are devoted to Kid and the crew, don't ever underestimate what he'd do or who he'd cut down to honor their pride.

Welcome to the crew and practice your breathing exercises!

[bitbybitwrites]

OK . . am a day late . . . but not much has been done around here, bc I was struggling to finish the latest chapter of Puppy Love. (my RWRB WIP).

But here's what I got for you - snippets from a couple of ficlet fridays I'm working on (one RWRB, one Klaine) that are going to really be a wee bit longer than what I share here and a snippet of the next chapter of my Klaine WIP - If I Can Make Your Heart My Home . . all under the cut.

Also, by the way, many thanks to the following folks who tagged me for this and six/several/seven sentence sunday these past few weeks - you are all awesome!:

@alasse9 @daisyishedwig @onthewaytosomewhere, @thesleepyskipper @forabeatofadrum

@sophie1973 @wordsofhoneydew @porcelainmortal @taste-thewaste @blueeyedgrlwrites

@annepi-blog @duchessdepolignaca03 @softboynick @thinkof-england

And if I forgot anyone I'm sorry!

1.) From If I Can Make Your Heart My Home (Klaine fic)

“Yes, Bradford. I’m curious as well.   What are you doing here?” Four heads whipped around quickly to focus on Lillian, her face inscrutable, watching them all from a few feet away. Bradford Anderson stepped through the doorway, forcing Cooper to back away reluctantly and frowning as he did so.  Cooper sidled closer to Blaine who had a similar expression on his face. Bradford leaned down to kiss Lillian on the cheek.  “Aren’t I allowed to come see my own mother - or even my sons?” Lillian’s mouth pursed as she debated her reply.  “I did think you and Pamela were spending the holiday season in south of France this year. You can’t blame me for being surprised at this impromptu visit.” Bradford shrugged as he removed his wool overcoat and held it out wordlessly towards his sons.  Blaine tentatively took it from his father.  Cooper quickly tore it from Blaine’s hands and tossed it unceremoniously into a nearby chair. “Yes, well, what a lovely day for a family reunion,” Cooper said tightly.  “But we were just sitting down with Nan for dinner . . ." “Wonderful,” Bradford said, cutting Cooper off from the rest of his thought.  “I think I’ll join you.”   And in a display of sheer self-centered obliviousness, Bradford Anderson waltzed out of the foyer and into the direction of the dining room, ignoring the rest of the party gaping at him as he walked by. For a few moments the four remaining in the hallways just stood in silence, unsure exactly what had happened before them. Kurt knew this was bad.  Very, very bad. He knew the last person on earth Blaine would have wanted to see right now, besides maybe Kurt, was his father. ‘Perhaps . . .I should go?”  Kurt suggested meekly. “I don’t want to interfere with any. . . um, family affairs . . .” he whispered.  Lilian sighed deeply as she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in an apparent sign of frustration with her own flesh and blood. “No, Kurt, please stay." she said. "You’ve been kind enough to cook for us and before our surprise guest made his appearance, I was going to ask you to join us.  I had just wanted to check with Blaine first. Blaine, sweetheart, what do you want us to do?” Lilian quietly asked. The question however, fell on deaf ears.  Blaine was all too focused on staring towards the direction his father disappeared to than listening to his grandmother. Kurt could practically feel the tension radiating off of him. “Squirt?” Cooper gently touched his brother’s arm. “Are you alright?” “Oh yeah, just perfect, “ Blaine muttered bitterly. “Blaine?” Blaine’s head quickly tuned to Kurt, who was nervously  was twisting the hem of his apron in his fingers.  “I can go, Blaine.  I don’t want to make things any more difficult for you than it already is.” “Stay. . .go.  It doesn’t matter to me,” Blaine said flatly.   “Blaine, I can tell your father to leave," Lillian said softly.  “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Blaine’s mouth set into a grim line as he squared his shoulders and started walking in the direction of where his father had left.  “Let’s just . . .get this over with,” he mumbled loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

*****

2.) Color Me Surprised (RWRB Ficlet Friday)

*I had a fic idea that I had stalled a bit on until I got this Fictlet Friday prompt - so I've decided to combine the two:

“No.” “Yes.” “No, Pez.  I think I’d rather eat glass.” Percy cocked a well-groomed eyebrow and regarded his best friend skeptically.  “I’m confused.  I’d thought you’d be at least a bit interested.   It is a rite of passage, especially in this area, no?” Henry sighed as he tipped his head back.  “Perhaps, but one I’m not sure I want to partake in.” “Hazza,” Pez chided his childhood friend.  “You are young, single and incredibly hot.  Why are you not taking advantage on all of this?” He shook his head in confusion.  “Stop acting like you're being tarred and feathered.  It’s just an extended weekend.  You have been cooped up in this office beating yourself up over the writers block you’ve been suffering from.  I am giving you a change of scenery, that’s all.” “And I suppose you propose I find my inspiration there?" “We're going to Fire Island. It's like gay Disney World.”  Pez elaborated.  “I propose there will be many a tight-bodied, ravishing specimen of inspiration to blow not only your writers block out of the water but hopefully your back as well as . ." Pez coughed and tossed in a very pointed look. ". . . well, one could hope. . . other neglected things.”  Pez' s rather pointed look was all too familiar to Henry. Henry groaned as he leaned his elbows onto his desk and dropped his head in his hands.  Pez smirked.  He knew he had won. “There will be vodka involved, won’t there?” Henry said as he mumbled through his fingers. “Of course, my darling.  Is there any doubt?”

3.) fire island follies (Klaine Ficlet Friday)

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, San.” Santana looked over at her friend and smirked.  “Lookin’ a little green about the gills, Hobbit.  You ok?” Blaine took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he clutched his duffle bag close to his chest.  The ferry was going through choppy water, and his stomach wasn't faring well at all.  No one could blame him; Blaine was from central Ohio and hadn't had much experience being on the open ocean. He opened his mouth to respond, but the moment the boat hit a particularly large wave.   The sea vessel bounced so much that Blaine snapped his mouth shut quickly, clapping one hand over it.  Santana swore he looked even more pale than he had a minute ago. “Don’t you dare hurl on me, Anderson.  I will kill you if you ruin these shoes.” A young couple and their kid moved away from where Blaine and Santana were sitting, looking at the young man warily.  Blaine gave them a weak smile and wave before he peered down at Santana's open-toe espadrilles. “Fancy footwear for the beach, don’t you think?” Santana snorted as she wiggled her Burberry-clad foot at Blaine.  "I gots to look good for my sweetie.” She leaned over and poked him in the side.  He squawked and batted her hand away.  “Can you just give me a smile for once and not look like I’m dragging you to your death.” The boat hit another wave and bounced again.  “I feel like death,” Blaine said through gritted teeth as his stomach did another somersault. "Just kill me now." “Oh, perk up, sunshine.  We're going to Fire Island.  It's like gay Disney World."

****

Well there ya go . . am also tagging ( if you are interested in sharing whatever you are working on - writing or otherwise): @spaceorphan18 @datshitrandom @justgleekout @myheartalivewrites @14carrotghoul

@little-escapist @cha-melodius @kirakiwiwrites @caramelcoffeeaddict @almightaylor

@1908jmd @tinyarmedtrex @theprinceandagcd @iboatedhere

@gleefuldarrencrissfan @gleefulpoppet @itsmaybitheway @kurtsascot @mynonah

@esilher @cryscendo @porcelainandthehobbit @hkvoyage @madas-ahatters-world

@sarkyblueeyes

And open tag of course for any one else!

[walnutofthedead]

Can you do Yandere Mikoto x Gn! Reader headcanons?

Hahaha hah djbdhddhhdhd

The ask I’ve been waiting for frfr….

I’m so normal about yanderes (they’re fun to write leave me alone)

So uhm I MAY go a wee bit overboard here??? And May or may not have ended up doing the yan alphabet?? This is for Mikoto and not his alter, if you want an orekoto one just lmk <3

Prob will do a shortfic later

Yandere shit under the cut

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

I see Mikoto as a physical affection type of guy tbh- Like, he’s still really sweet! Always nice with his words, but he’ll like randomly hug you from behind, hold your hand, a lot of things that most regular couples do. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Well… in terms of like, actual messes, he tries to be clean! Mikoto doesn’t particularly even want to hurt anybody. He’s not ALL bad…

With that said, sometimes, he has to. If someone is trying to steal you away and doesn’t heed his warnings, or if they hurt you, he has no choice but to put an end to that! 

If someone hurts you, he’ll be more brutal.. not above torturing them if they’ve gone that far. 

If it’s because he’s jealous, he’s a bit more nice. He doesn’t make it too painful. Maybe a blow to the head, a fast-acting poison… 

After all, he can’t blame them for falling for you just like he did! It’s impossible not to~

They just don’t get to take you away from him. Never. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Nono! He’s a sweetie:c Mikoto honestly would just treat you with genuine respect and love,, be like, he loves you! He knows he’s already done something awful by abducting you and is sympathetic. Prob tries to make it as comfortable as possible. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Well… he’s definitely do a lot of hugging and stuff like that… but the furthest he’d go without (implied or direct) consent is just a peck on the lips<3

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

So here’s the thing- he’s delusional as fuck. He’ll just treat your relationship like he’d treat any regular one. He’s never invulnerable around you, but there’s definitely times he’s more vulnerable. Don’t hurt him please the silly:(

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

So confused and betrayed. You love him, so why are you fighting him? He only wants what’s best for you! 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He takes this shit so seriously- istfg bro hates it when you try and escape :((( kind of a pushover tbh- like he’ll probably just try and make it even more comfortable for you whenever you try to leave. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Being abducted is the worst it’ll get. Even while captive, he treats you with such care it’s baffling- he loves you!!!! Cmon pooks love him back ong

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

I feel like he daydreams about marrying them… like he has it all planned to a T. Probably already designed an outfit for s/o to wear at their wedding. We love a ✨ prepared ✨ mans 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets jealous and inhales lethal amounts of Copium. The poor silly

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Nah bro just acts like his normal self but like,, slightly more happy???   

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Just approaching regularly, he has no issue going up and talking to them! When confessions are involved though, he has a much harder time… probably would opt for a love letter. A long, well-written one with little doodles on it !!

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Lmao nope

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He kinda just.. wouldn’t..? If he got really pissed somehow, he might like, lock them in their room or something… but he avoids using violence when possible. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many! When he abducts them, he’s strict at first, but eventually even lets them go out so long as he’s there with them. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He’s incredibly patient. He doesn’t get angry very easily, and when he does, he calms down fairly quick. This is assuming he doesn’t switch to Orekoto, of course…

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Haha no

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Oh, absolutely. He’d feel like actual shit about it. Even with all the gaslighting himself to try and justify it, he knows taking someone captive like this is awful. And especially for such selfish reasons… that’s why he tries making it up to them by spoiling them! 

He won’t let them go though. There’s no going back once you kidnap someone. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Hm……. I’d say probably just emotional dependency and bad attachment issues. He just happened to get a bit too attached to s/o. 

-bonus hc: he gives his friends nicknames to make it feel like they have a deeper friendship than they do so they don’t drift away from him ! 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh, he hates it- just seeing them sad or afraid breaks his heart. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just tries his best to comfort them with words. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Give his darling some MOTHERFUCKING FREEDOM-

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His willingness to trust. As I mentioned earlier, he gives a lot of freedom, and that only increases as his trust in them builds. Once he’s convinced they do, in fact, love him, and won’t try and leave, he’ll begin letting them go out alone for short periods of time so long as they let him track their location. You can already see how that could turn out in an unsatisfactory way for him…

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Nope. Or at least, it would take a lot for him to lash out and do so. And even then, it wouldn’t be that bad. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He doesn’t really worship them per se… but he will totally go to extreme lengths to win them over. No amount of time or money or effort is too much if it means a chance at winning his darling over <3

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Depending on outside factors like other people pursuing them, it could be anywhere between a few months and a couple years. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Haha no. 

[inourselveswetrust]

that moving prompt made me cry blood (positively).... can i get something fluffy? maybe from their younger years when August was a wee pining baby?

Three years ago 

Two creams, one sugar.

Two creams, one sugar.

Or was it one cream and two sugar?

August’s steps falter as they begin questioning their memory – no, you’ve always ordered your coffee with two creams and one sugar. A smile spreads across their face as they enter the café, the wonderful smell of coffee and sweets welcomes them.

“Good morning, August,” one of the employees, August recognizes them as Kalea, greets them brightly. “Your usual?” 

“Hi Kalea, can I get a medium coffee with two creams and one sugar too?” August asks politely, and Kalea nods before turning her attention to the order. August’s eyes scan the glassed display of freshly baked sweets. The variety is almost overwhelming, especially for someone who doesn’t particularly enjoy sugary food.

But you do.  

“Can I get some cookies too?”

“Sure, what kind?” Kalea replies over her shoulder. 

August’s mind races, what kind of cookie do you like? Chocolate chip is a classic, but maybe it’s too basic for you. Would you like peanut butter? Are you allergic?

No, you know they’re not allergic to peanut butter, you fool August thinks to themselves. 

“Can I get two of each?” August asks, deciding to stick to the safer option. An option where you get anything and everything you could ever possibly want.

“Of course! Anything else?” Kalea asks as she hands August the two freshly brewed coffees. What if you don’t like cookies?

“Maybe some doughnuts too,” August replies as their eyes drift further down the display. “Can I get an assortment of a dozen?”

… 

“I think you bought at least one of everything,” Kalea jokes as she bags the order. What started as a simple order of two coffees has now grown to include cookies, doughnuts, brownies and some tarts. “Is it your turn to buy for the department?” Kalea asks as she hands the overfilled bag to August.

“Of course, cops and their sweets,” August lies easily as they gesture to the bag.

“I’m sure they’ll love it.” Kalea smiles before waving goodbye. I hope so, August thinks to themselves. 

The walk to the station is brisk, the chilly air biting at August’s cheeks but the sight of you waiting near their desk instantly warms their cool body. A flush creeps up their neck, and they already know they’ll blame it on the cold wind.

“Good morning!” you greet happily, and waves of joy wash through August. “Ooh, anything good?” you ask as your eyes drop to the familiar café bag.

“What makes you think I’m sharing?” August replies teasingly, raising a brow at you. I’ll share anything with you. 

“Pretty please?” you answer with a pout, and August struggles for breath for a moment. Those puppy eyes will be the death of me.

“How could I say no to my best friend?” August grins, handing the bag to you. Take what you need, take what you want, take it all.

You scavenge through the bag eagerly, reaching for a bit of everything despite it barely being dawn. Did you eat? Maybe I should’ve brought something healthier. 

“This is delicious! I love their cookies,” you moan as you chomp at a cookie. “What’s the occasion?” God, I’m in love with you and I can’t tell you, but I need to show you.

“I figured we deserved a treat,” August shrugs as they settle at their desk and sip at their coffee. “This is yours.”

“Two cream and one sugar?” you ask as you stare at the second cup. 

“Of course,” August nods and watches as you practically chug the steaming drink. 

“Thanks, August,” you smile the smile reserved just for them, and their heart flutters. “I’ll set these in the break room.”

Right, because it wasn’t all just for you. It would be insane to buy a dozen cookies, doughnuts, brownies, and tarts for just you.

“Sounds good, it’s your turn to buy next week,” August responds jokingly with a smile.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to spoil you!” you laugh. “It’s the least I could do after you’ve spoiled us this morning.”

I would spoil you for the rest of my life if I could. If I deserved the honour.

[oifaaa]

Please tell me how Roy’s characterisation was massacred for N52.

I understand how Jason and Roy’s relationship can be annoying where Roy never questions Jason and just follows him around blindly, never second guessing him. Roy is hard on himself and lacks self esteem and so thinks highly of Jason when really he should be angry, maybe even jealous of the power (all caste magic) Jason has. Then i get confused because I’d think someone going through a bout of depression and self hate and self medicating would have low self esteem and would think everyone is better than them and that they are a fuck up so isn’t that accurate portrayal of how awful Roy’s situation is?? Doesn’t that show the way Roy struggles just as he has pre N52?

Additionally Jason always compliments Roy on his greatness and abilities (Not in person which is annoying because grr he has to be manly and can’t compliment a friend) but in his little thought bubbles he’s always talking about how great Roy is and how grateful he is to have him.

Now this is where I get more confused because surely Roy respects Jason and through Jason’s monologues he clearly respects Roy though he may not say it out loud. The point is, people exaggerate so much how Roy is used as a crutch for Jason to look cool but Jason is constantly mentioning Roy and how important he is for the team. (Though I won’t deny there are times he may call him a goofball or undermine him but I mean cmon it’s literally ‘Red Hood’ and the outlaws, not ‘Titans’ where they’re equals, so it’s understandable that Jason would have swords and magic and stuff and save the day whilst Roy is not the main character). Idk I just haven’t noticed Roys character being MASSACRED when he’s with Jason.

People say Roy’s biggest trauma is having to be with Jason but I don’t know why that’s so bad like don’t just say it’s shit writing, fucking give me the evidence. (Sorry for the rant no offense to you what so ever). If the writing is so bad then blame the writer idk why Jason gets so much hate.

Anyway, please tell me how and why Rhato is the worst comics because I don’t think it’s that bad personally and I’d get shit for saying that.

Ps. This isn’t even about JayRoy or Lobdells disgusting history it’s literally just about why Rhato gets so much hate. I’m so confused so please explain /gen.

Thank you, have a nice day :)

Okay im gonna start this off by saying I think your looking at this the wrong way, your treating RHATO as just a stand alone story and if you want to know why people hate it you have to look at it in the broader context of it being a continuation of three different characters stories bc that is what it is - kory Roy and Jason are all pre established characters with rich backgrounds and personalities that have been building up for decades if you ignore these histories your gonna get push back from fans and Lobdell actually took it one step further

I'm gonna be short and sweet with this bc people more knowledgeable about roys character can put it way better then me but lets get straight to the point - the reason why people say Roy harper was massacred in RHATO is bc his whole character was changed- his back story, his relationships, his addiction, a lot of his personality and hell even his tattoos were changed and changed for the worse as a lot of it seemed to get done just to better suit Jason who was also changed a lot by lobdell but not to the extent that Roy was - a lot of it comes off like lobdell didn't even bother to read any comics with Roy in them before he decided to try and shove him into a role that wasn't suited for him which if your a long time Roy fan watching a character you adore get a complete overhaul just so he fits with the character the author uses as a self insert your gonna be a wee bit agitated

When your writing stories in the dc universe you have to be careful as a lot of these characters are main characters in their own right when they team up together sure you can focus on one more then the others but you have to be at least abit aware of each of the characters your including back stories motivations and personalities and what lobdell did was use the fact that the new 52 just happened as an excuse to create whole new characters with the same names as these much loved pre established characters and this rightfully pissed off a lot of people who loved these characters especially bc the things that happened in the n52 have had a lasting effect as these are the comics newer fans are reading and if your favourite character has been given a complete overhaul into a character you no longer recognise too bad a lot of people are gonna go forward only seeing Roy as Jason Todd's side character the guy in the baseball cap

[no-nic]

kakashi gaiden liveblogging

just saving screenshots & taking notes like i'm in an 8 credit class i can't afford to fail

(tumblr allows max 30 images in one post so it's been cut a bit)

oh no he’s cute

minato is sitting there just listening to kakashi’s tirade

TINY RIN!

when your pre-teen not-son quotes the rulebook

kakashi’s teeth are deserving of their own sound effect; self-control indeed!

just say “i’m uchiha obito”. or shut up. you’re delusional, baby obitobito you need a terrible makeover by an elderly relative

anyone told you it’s trauma related? or are you just squinting really hard and hoping?

i have no idea what wee wee means but it’s very close to wheeze

how dare you interrupt their argument for some pointless mission

kusagakure = land of freaky flora (& fungi)? hashirama’s experimental ground?

no more arguing. get fucked sensei. CHIDORI!

fun details:

obito: 2 bum bags

kakashi: 2 bum bags + tanto harness. is one of those bags that med pack gift from rin?

rin: backpack

minato: backpack

big stick-finger-in-socket energy

puppy got the zoomies!!!

shortcut to mushrooms (goes through)

QUESTION! …aren’t shadow clones (doppelgangers here) supposed to be a konoha special? (if not a forbidden technique? or are mass shadow clones the taboo?)

OBITO FAIL! love rin’s expression of despair here

bby kakashi is so cute… he’s been scolded by his sensei… minato: dust can’t get into your eyes when you’re wearing goggles. it’s fine to speak of self-control, but you must be strong at heart, not just in words. like dude, shut up, that’s a kakashi-level bullying comeback.

is it a choice to hide obito’s eyes here?

“it was five years ago, on a top secret mission…” i sense another TIMELINE disturbance. CINEMA SINS! arrest this guy! kakashi genin 5 -> chunin 6 -> sakumo’s suicide some time later (implied by order of events in kakashi’s birthday column) -> kakashi currently 11 years old or more minato: unfortunately, a great deal of damage resulted. in the end, both the land of fire and his peers blamed him for everything. CINEMA SINS! how was this mission “top secret” if everybody and their aunt knew about it? FANON! “sakumo was blamed for the third shinobi war” nope

she’s so tiny!!! “she has found a new master.” shut the fuck up you pervert

and now he’s back to laws. oh boy. and you were so right earlier. now you’re just giving obito speech material.

OBITO WIN! KAKASHI FAIL! the idiot boy is going for the [combat] dialogue option!

kakashi: if you give in to your fleeting emotions, and fail an important mission… you’ll regret it later. does obito have a lot of “fleeting emotions”? kakashi: but like i told you yesterday… better nothing, than a useless burden. a shinobi needs tools suitable to the mission at hand. emotion is just a useless burden. i don’t know if he read it in danzo’s root handbook or if this is just A Fact. emotions are not needed if you’re just a tool armed with tools. how will tears help you when you’re bleeding out? how dare you be human, obititio

of course kakashi doesn’t truly believe this. obito keeps asking if he’s for real, kakashi is making sad faces and flashbacking to his father.

obito: sure, in a ninja’s world, those who violate the rules and fail to follow orders… are lower than garbage. however… those who do not care for and support their fellows… are even lower than that! if i’m scum… the rules are no good to me! and if breaking them makes me the wrong kind of shinobi… i’ll crush all the so-called shinobi!! anyone wants to convince me that obito is happy with konoha (and the whole system)???

242: Chronicle 4: The Crybaby Ninja (it’s embarrassing that you immediately know it's obito)

flash to minato

“there are probably at least fifty on the enemy side. by comparison, the four of us are all that’s left on our end.” iwagakure sent 1000 shinobi, konoha numbers unknown. now its 50 vs 5 (4+minato). minato isn’t even throwing his own kunai FANON! “minato massacred 1000 enemy shinobi alone” he wishes

obito (to himself): okay… let’s go! invisible enemy: where are we going?

my boy is glowing!!!

white light blade and silver hair! he’s here and now he’s there! KAKASHI WIN! the iwa guy really looked at this tiny gremlin and went “white fang???”

first time in years he’s talked about his father!!!

243: Chronicle 5: A Gift

iwa jonin i can’t be bothered to look up: remember, you’re standing in the palm of your enemy now… a fun way to say you can control rocks and they are in a cave

OBITO WIN! not for long tho

obito: i was the only one… who didn’t… give you a gift… i didn’t know… what was proper… but… i do now… he actually thought about kakashi’s jonin gift!!! obito: i’m about to… die. but i’ll… become your eye… and we’ll see what happens… in the future…

244: Chronicle 6: Sharingan Hero

hole.

kakashi: rin… obito… he loved you… you were his only one… he gave his life to protect you. rin: then… kakashi! you should know how i feel about you… kakashi brought up confessing, rin was just staying on topic. btw obito “gave his life” to protect kakashi, not rin. just a reminder

let her look at stars

(narration) the third great ninja war. with the sacrifice of many nameless shinobi, the protracted war finally came to a close. it its wake, it also left legends… the stories of great heroes, to be told and retold for generations to come. the battle of kannabi bridge. that day, two heroes were born in konohagakure, each with his own sharingan. one found his name engraved on the memorial stone… the other came to be known as kakashi of the sharingan. in time, the tales of his bravery spanned all borders, and beyond.

CINEMA SINS! obito wears goggles (on his forehead) after he awakens the sharingan. when they go to the cave where rin is held he doesn’t have them on. are they in kakashi’s bum bag?

THE END.

[he110sweet13]

Created by myself an @msmhari this morning. Neither of us have time to flesh out this fic right now, but wanted to share the dopamine.

Casting the OFMD Pride and Prejudice AU. (spoilers I guess? The book is 200 years old, if I spoil it, then I spoil it)

Starting with the major pairings:

Mr. Bingley and Jane- hopelessly in love, of course, Stede and Ed.

Mr. Darcy and Lizzy- Darcy is smart, competent, but generally perceived as an asshole. I give you, Mr. Izzy Hands. But as we all know, Izzy is the fandom bicycle. So who is our clever, cheeky, and a little bit mouthy Lizzy Bennet? Lucius it is.

Lydia and Mr Wickham- This one’s a bit cheeky, but it’s my tumblr and I do what I want. And I fully blame @msmhari for Wickham. Lydia is Archie. Don’t worry- we’ll get back to her. She’ll be just fine. Wickham is Ricky. He dies of natural causes. Murder is a natural cause right?

Now let’s round out our families. First, the Bennet Sisters: Kitty and Mary will be played by Frenchie and Wee John. They share a room.

Lady Catherine is Auntie. Terrifying and knows it. Unless you’re Lizzy.

If Lucius is Lizzy, where’s Pete? Pete is Mr. Collins. I’m sorry Black Pete fans, please don’t come for us.

Spanish Jackie and the Swede are the Gardiners. They love love and just want to see everybody happy. Bonus points if they don’t have to clean up after their family of muppets anymore.

Jim and Olu are Mr. Bingley’s (Stede) “Siblings”. Archie runs off with them. See? She’s fine. No one gives a fuck about Ricky/Wickham. Olu is married to Zheng. #garlicsoup

Fang is Darcy’s cousin Fitzwilliam. A sweet gentleman who softens Lizzy (Lucius) towards Darcy (Izzy)

Mary is the woman that Mr. Bingley (Stede) was rumoured to be courting when he fucked off to London for a bit. Meanwhile Jane (Ed) is moping to Lizzy in her pillow fort.

Not entirely sure what to do with Buttons, but hey, that’s nothing new.

There are two very important characters left. Mr and Mrs Bennet. And personally, my favorite of our little fan cast.

Mr Bennet is the leader of this little mess. He created it. Brought it into the world. This is his circus and these are his monkeys. Thus I give you, the Daddy of our little crew, David Jenkins.

So who is the counterpoint to our producer and creator? The organizer who steers the ship? Mrs Bennet loves pairing up her daughters, and clowns just as hard as any of the fans. Silly and a bit chaotic, and really just wants to see Jane get all Mooney over her husband?

Javid Denkins, aka David Jenkins in a bonnet.

You’re welcome.

[zarkishere]

On the second day of christmas, Zark gave to me....second chapter of the Rubier fic!

yes, i forgot yesterday, leave me alone....

fic won't be full here, as tumblr is just not letting me :(

_____ The road is long and weary, but you will find your people. TW // slurs. _____ They chatted for a good while, the two who had fought settling down—mostly thanks to the older man, who he had learnt was named Hosea—they ended up reaching some sort of peace, which lead to Hosea and Ruben riding on one horse, and Arthur riding on the other. They promised to take Ruben somewhere safe, somewhere he wouldn’t have to hunt animals with his bare teeth, somewhere he could bathe safely...and he wasn’t even obligated to stay forever, just until he got his shit together. Sounded good, if not suspicious. Hosea had a gray horse, it’s top a little black along with it’s legs. The other mans horse was a red-ish beautiful horse, like a the horseification of a sunset. Now, Ruben could hear the voice of the two men talking clearly, something about the camp. Strangers. Why would they take him, specially after biting one of them? He raised his head and looked at Arthur. He looked angry. Ruben couldn’t blame him. The ride was long and mostly quiet from his part; Ruben didn’t care to pay attention to their chatter, just the horses hoofs striking the dirt and rocks below, the critters of the night...it was late. Why were they out? Just hunting? He could see the dead deer mounted on Arthurs horse, the way it’s blood stained the horses hair...he wondered if they cared. After what felt like years, but also not long enough to get used to the idea, they arrived into their camp. They were immediately greeted by two men—a fatter one that was clearly balding and a taller blonde—actually blonde, too. Neither looked happy. “ Who’s that then? ‘nother wee bairn ya picked off the street? “ The new blonde asked in a strange accent, pointing at Ruben with his rifle. He frowned as a response, mentally choking out the man, which only seemed to amuse him. As the barrel slowly drifted, accidentally moving toward Hosea, the original ‘blonde’ said “ Don’t. “ and pushed away the barrel of the gun. “ Roight “ Blonde 2 responded, scoffing as he moved the gun away. “ Welcome, then “ He hummed, looking back at the balding one. “ Yeah, welcome “ He nodded, playfully hitting blonde 2’s arm. The three of them could hear their distant chuckles and jokes in the distance, which only irritated Ruben further. Why was he here, again? This is all so stupid...he was fine on his own. He didn’t need—yet another voice interrupted his thoughts. “ Hosea! “ A man with slicked back raven dark hair and a mustache called out, his eyes nearly gleamed with happiness as Hosea looked back at him and chuckled. “ Dutch “ Hosea responded, voice warm and fuzzy, swiftly getting off his horse. Arthur got off, too, so Ruben took that as a sign to follow. “ Look what we brought in “ He said, raising his hand and moving it closer to Ruben—but stopping before he made contact. The action was oddly comforting. “ I saw! Who’s this? “ He asked, moving closer to the youngest of the group. Ruben took a step back, feeling completely overwhelmed by now...and Dutch was going to touch him, but stopped once he saw the blood. “ Nervous, I see...and very dirty “ He commented, looking him up and down. Hosea chuckled, crossing his arms. “ He was ‘hunting’, apparently, “ He said, in a very incredulous voice, which Ruben took silent offense to. “ With his teeth “ He added and chuckled. Arthur huffed, and Ruben could see him rub his arm where he had bit earlier. He felt guilty about it now. “ Well...welcome home, son “ Dutch said, now placing his hand on Ruben’s shoulder. It was firm, a little tight, and Ruben stiffened up immediately. Before he could say anything, though, Dutch moved away. “ C’mon, old girl, you and I got a few things to talk about… “ He said, voice smooth, almost too smooth. Like it was forced...just a show.

[chloe-caulfield94]

Pricefield in the Times of Plague

“Don’t come near me, Max!” - Chloe shouted, mustering the last bits of her strength to raise herself on her elbows above her bed of pain. Her face was red from fever and covered in blisters. Her hair was soaked in sweat. She went into a coughing fit and collapsed on the bed.

Max stood in the doorway of Chloe’s house. Just like every other house in the village, it was built using logs of wood, it had a sloping, thatched roof and the floor was covered in a layer of fresh straw. Inside, it consisted of one large chamber, with a fireplace at the centre. There was little furniture, besides two beds with mattresses filled with hay. The smaller bed was Chloe’s. The larger was Joyce’s and David’s. The larger bed was empty. Just like it had taken William five years ago, the plague now took Chloe’s mother and stepfather. Chloe cared for them when they fell ill. And when life left their eyes, she wrapped them in the best cloths she could find in her modest household and left them outside, to be taken by people collecting plague victims each morning. Chloe fell ill herself soon after that.

When Joyce and David became sick with the plague, Max’s parents forbade her from visiting Chloe. She obeyed. But when she heard the disease had gripped Chloe in its clutches, she couldn’t stay away any longer.

Now, standing at the threshold of Chloe’s house, she had to make a choice.

Chloe had already told her to leave. Now, Max heard her parents. They must’ve noticed her sneaking away in the wee hours of the morning. They stood outside the fence, ten paces from the door.

“Max, please! Don’t go in there! Come home with us!” – Ryan shouted. Vanessa sobbed.

Lying on her bed, Chloe quietly said: “Max, I know you love me. But you don’t have to do this. I won’t blame you. Nobody will. Stay away. Live”.

Everything tried to lure Max the wrong way. Her parents told her to go home. Chloe absolved her from abandoning her. Fear of the plague gripped her stomach and made her limbs heavy. Max made her choice. And she chose well.

She turned around to face Ryan and Vanessa: “Mom, dad, I love you. And I love Chloe, too. Dad, if mom was sick, would you abandon her? Mom, if dad was sick, would you abandon him? If I was sick, would either of you abandon me? I must be with her, for good or for ill”.

Vanessa cried loudly in Ryan’s embrace. Tears flowed down his bearded cheeks, too. But he nodded at Max, understanding her decision.

Max went in and closed the door behind her. She approached Chloe, sat on the bed next to her and gripped her hand. Chloe squeezed her hand too, weakly.

Max said: “I promised to always love you. To always have your back. To never abandon you. Now that you need me the most, I intend to keep that promise”.

“Max, think about your family …” – Chloe whispered faintly.

“Chloe, you are my family now. Isn’t it written in the Good Book that there comes a time for everyone when they leave their father and their mother and become one with someone they chose to love? Besides, if you’re so worried about my parents, look at it that way - I would bring shame upon my house by not keeping an oath I made”.

Chloe smiled, her spirit uplifted both by Max’s love and her sense of humour.

Max cared for her. She fed her, washed her, put cold compresses on her burning forehead. She talked with Chloe to take her mind off the death of her family and of her own death looming over her. And when Chloe was too weak to talk, Max sang her or told her stories. After three days, Chloe’s strength began to come back.

And then Max fell ill and the roles were reversed. Chloe returned all the care and love she had received. After a week, they both emerged from the house, weakened, but very much alive. They held hands. Ryan and Vanessa, who had been leaving them food and water on the doorstep, ran to hug them.

The tiny Romanesque church, the only stone building in the entire village, was full of the plague’s survivors. Almost everyone had lost someone they loved. The dwellers of Arcadia Bay were desperate for some positive development. So when the news spread that there was going to be a wedding, the villagers saw it as a good omen – that the time of plague had come to an end, and the time of healing and rebirth had commenced.

Max and Chloe stood before the altar. Max looked at her bride’s face. Max remarked that not even the pox marks covering her cheeks could hide Chloe’s beauty. Nothing ever could. True beauty is always within, where no scars can reach. Max knew her face was covered in similar marks. She saw her reflection each morning when she washed her face in a bowl of water. Not only she didn’t mind them, she was proud of her scars. She earned them in battle. Fighting for her love, which is the only thing truly worth fighting for.

Sister Kate from the local priory, who was officiating the wedding, asked each of them if they wished to be wedded in the eyes of the Lord. Of course they wished so! They exchanged wedding rings. They were simple steel circles, made by the local blacksmith. They were the best jewellery two peasant girls could afford. The rings were precious to Max and Chloe not because of the metal used to make them, but because of what they meant. Their love. How they defied cruel fate. How Max chose well.

The brides kissed. Ryan and Vanessa had tears in their eyes, but those were tears of joy and pride.

[sweetcocopowder]

Day Seven: Drunk Sex

Kinktober Masterlist will be posted after October

Synopsis: The lot celebrate Shay's birthday. Both Shay and Haytham get a little too drunk for their own liking, making sex a struggle.

Word Count: 2.6K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Nsfw/Drunk sex/An*l/Spit as lube

“Twenty-five, sir.”

Maybe Shay thought Haytham already knew his age. Or maybe Gist or someone else in the order had told him. But, the Grandmaster chokes on his ale as he’s taking a sip and the liquid sprays up into his face.

Everyone at the table goes silent, all trying to hold in their laughter. It’s quiet a scene, seeing Haytham shocked still as ale drips form his chin as he bends over forward on his chair. All so he doesn’t ruin his coat and clothing. He retrieves a handkerchief from his breast pocket, flicking it out before wiping his face.

Shay clears his throat so that any hint of amusement is gone from his voice, “I do apologize.”

Haytham holds up his hand as he sets his drink on the table with the others. He does not normally drink with his fellow Templars, but tonight is special occasion. Shay’s birthday. Something that Gist forced out of him a while ago. And only because it is Shay is Haytham here in the Greenwich Tavern.

The Grandmaster gathers himself again, patting his handkerchief into his pocket again.   

“It is alright, Shay. I just, did not expect you to be so young,” he says with the slightest hint of a chuckle.

If it was anyone else, no one would have seen the smirk on the Grandmaster’s lips, but Shay does. He sits back in his chair, holding his own ale with two hands on his lap.

“I wouldn’t exactly call twenty-five young, sir,” Shay responds as he feels his cheeks heat up.

“Bollocks, Shay!” Gist cries out, slapping his Captain’s shoulder. “It is the prime of your life and you are still a wee babe in our eyes!”

Shay chuckles at that and tries to his face away. “I don’t feel young no more, that’s for sure.”

“Wise beyond your years,” Haytham responds.

That, has Shay looking his way with raised brows. In all his life he’s never been called wise and it feels, odd. Gist raises his cup and cheers towards Shay. All but Haytham clink their cup with his and celebrate even further. The entire rest of the night, the comment keeps twirling in Shay’s mind. All the way until he drunkenly stumbles down the halls of the tavern to his room.

He had booked a room out earlier that day because he knew for a fact, that he wouldn’t be able to make the trip home. He normally can hold his liquor, but keeping up with Gist is a whole other game. Who knew an American could keep up with an Irishman.

He stares at the doorhandle as he tries to open it, fumbling around with it. It isn’t until a warm hand overlaps his own and takes it off gently to open it with a key does he realise his mistake. Shay leans on the door heavily, his forehead whacking against it. He looks at Haytham with a big smile on his face.

Haytham may also be a little bit topsy turvy. He did notice that the Grandmaster tonight was in such a good mood. A mood that had Shay buying him a drink every time he noticed his cup was empty. Who is he to blame? How could he have such a handsome man buying his own drinks.

“Are you to help me inside, kind sir?” Shay slurs.

This only brings a warm smile to Haytham’s features that makes him look gorgeous. It’s a rare thing to see, but Shay relishes in each moment it happens.  

“To make sure a drunkard fool gets home safely so no one snatches them up?” Haytham asks.

Shay only raises an eyebrow, waiting for the other to answer his own question.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Then snatch me away, sir,” Shay smiles.

At that, Haytham opens the door.

And Shay falls into the room like a sack of potatoes.

He hits the ground heavily with a grunt and a groan. He knows for a fact that everyone in the tavern would have heard the massive thud. Someone across the road would have heard him.

Haytham has to compose himself before he looks around the door frame at Shay laying face down on the floor. Haytham will have to be honest with himself here, he is a little intoxicated himself and this is all a little bit too amusing for him right now. Shay was terrible with buying him so many drinks. But how could he not, he would have hurt the more man’s heart.

He quickly jumps inside and moves Shay’s legs with his boot so he can get the door closed and locked. Shay finally gets his arms under him but the world spins around him. Maybe that last pint wasn’t such a good idea. Haytham gets his arms underneath Shay’s pits and lifts him. But it’s all dead weight at this point and Haytham grunts as he tries his best. He truly isn’t thinking. Something only Shay could bring out in him.  

“Shay a little help?” Haytham wheezes.

The Captain gets his feet under him but he trips over himself, pushing Haytham back. Luckily, the bed is behind them and they both fall onto the bed in a heap. Haytham huffs out his lung capacity of air as Shay lands right on top of him. A drunk laugh escapes Shay as he rolls of the Grandmaster.

“Image having the others see us now,” Shay comments.

“I would rather not,” Haytham bites.

Shay’s crew and Gist are still partying downstairs without the main man. The noise can be heard from the second floor where the rooms are. The floors aren’t all that thick in the first place. He’s surprised someone didn’t come up and investigate the loud bang.  

Haytham had retired first, and then an hour later Shay had followed suit. Not wanting to make it noticeable but it isn’t like half the crew has their own rumours about the both of them now. Even Gist has asked a couple of times and each time, has narrowly escaped the nearest thing being thrown at him. But none of their comments are out of hate or disgust. Yet. Either way, Shay would hide their asses before any harm came to him or Haytham.

“Did you really think I was older, sir?” Shay picks up randomly as he shuffles up the bed more.

But he’s dragged down the bed quickly by the straps crisscrossing his chest. Haytham begins unbuckling them and suddenly, Shay likes where this is heading.

“I might of. I’m not sure really now,” Haytham comments, his dark blue eyes focused on the straps.

But his normally elegant fingers now fumble of the buckles and straps. He curses under his breath as he gives up, letting Shay take over.

“Why do you ask?”

Shay shrugs as he sits up, throwing the straps to the ground. He then takes off his belt and sash to even begin taking his coat off. Sometimes nights like this, Shay really wished he didn’t wear so many layers and armour.

“Just thinking about how old I look I guess,” Shay responds.

Haytham stares at him out of the corner of his eye. After a few seconds, he meets his gaze with an expression that says “Huh?” For the first time, his quick witted mind can’t catch on. Which is a little odd for Shay, if he was proper sober.

“Do I look old?” Shay asks instead.

Haytham expressions furrow and stares at the Irishman for a moment. Trying to collect his thoughts in his drunkard haze to try and answer correctly. This isn’t the time to be having this conversation, but truly it is the only time they’ll ever speak like this. Outside of rooms like this one, it is strictly formal.

“There are some times where you act your age, Shay. But most of the times, the things you have been through, you act as if you have many years of experience under your belt. Many more than others can say or ever do in their own life times,” Haytham answers back proper, seeming to sober up a bit.

Shay now realizes, he truly is too drunk for this talk. And with the slight sway as he sits, Haytham sees that as well. Haytham comes to Shay, wrapping a hand around his neck and bringing him in for a kiss. The simple touch feels like fire, the alcohol in his system doing wonders.

Haytham pulls away all to whisper, “We’ll speak of this another time, not now.”

“Not now,” Shay repeats, not being able to form any other words.

The hands that glide over his body feel so good. Shay captures the other’s lips in another kiss, needing more, needing to taste the alcohol on Haytham’s tongue, needing to touch the warm skin it almost burns. Shay helps Haytham strips of his clothes and vice a versa, layer by layer, piece by piece until every bit is on the floor of the tavern room. Leaving both men completely nude for each other to gaze upon with a drunkard smirk.

Shay can’t help but feel Haytham’s toned body up, his fingers flittering over old scars and new. The Grandmaster shivers under the touch, breathing shallowing with his mouth slightly parted. Shame is something of the past tonight. All that lies between them is pure adoration.

Haytham pushes Shay back down on the bed with an almost comedic oof. But he stays there, watching and waiting. Not for Haytham to do whatever he’s planning, but for his head to stop spinning. He groans lightly to himself, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. All while he lets Haytham do whatever he’s doing. But whatever this is, he’s very much into it. Because everything in his body tingles.

He just wishes he didn’t drink that last pint so he can enjoy this a little bit more.

But his cock still stands at attention, needy and ready. But he don’t dare touch himself because every single pass of a hand or finger is like a hot fire. A hot fire that makes him want to burst like a firework.

Haytham grabs his thighs and lifts them up so his ass is on full display. Now, Shay uncovers his eyes so that he can watch the first Grandmaster of the American Colonial Rite’s tongue disappear into his ass.

Shay gasps and tenses up, grabbing the bed sheets like some dollar whore. His senses feel like their heightened but sloppy at the same time. It’s an odd sensation but he wants more. And Haytham gives it to him. Eating him out slowly and making sure that there’s enough spit and saliva for the next course of action. Because neither of them bought any oil, and no tavern would supply such a thing in this day and age for an act as sinful as this. For Haytham’s tongue is a wicked devil at that.

Woman must fall at his knees for such a talent.

When Haytham is done, he has Shay trembling in his touch. The Irishman swallows thickly, chuckling at himself. He’s usually so much well preserved in bed. Same could be said for Haytham. But with drink in the equation, all manners seem to go out the window.

Haytham moves up Shay’s body a little lazily, all so he can capture his lips in a sloppy kiss. Their teeth clack together but neither of them care at the pain that ebbs in their faces. Shay runs his fingers through Haytham’s hair, making it a complete mess and ridding him of the cute ribbon he always has in his hair.

Shay moves his kisses to Haytam’s chin, then his neck and then his nape. All until he has the man panting over him.

Haytham reaches down to his own cock, grinding his teeth at the touch of his own hand. He brings himself to Shay’s ass, waiting a moment before pushing in slightly. Shay hisses loudly, grabbing onto Haytham as the head of his cock enters his ass.

“A lil warning next time,” Shay seethes.

“Apologises.”

Shay keeps a hand pushed against Haytham’s stomach, stopping him from moving any further. The burn and stretch isn’t good right now. Something that Shay wants to push away from. If they had oil or literally anything else but spit, this would be so much easier and less painful.

But idiot drunks will be drunk idiots.

When the pain eases is when Shay lets the other move. Haytham grinds softly into him, all too sluggish to do anything proper. But neither is Shay, so he can’t blame the man. He keeps his legs wrapped around Haytham’s waist and that’s the best he can do for the other.  

With each shallow thrust Haytham is able to ease more of himself into Shay. He grunts in Shay’s ear, the sensation feeling as good as the Irishman is feeling as well. The burning pleasure that comes with being intoxicated is something that Shay chased a lot when he was just a fresh adult. Going from tavern to tavern and drinking and whoring. But this feels so much better than all those times. It’s nothing like all those quick fucks and girls in Havana.

But by God does he feel good right now. He holds onto Haytham for dear life, because he feels like if he lets go, he’s going to float away. He holds Haytham close so they’re chest to chest all while the other moves his hips, grinding just so there’s enough friction between the both of them. Shay’s dick sits in between their stomachs and the smallest movement as his balls tightening. The noises Haytham is making in his neck is going to send him over the edge let alone everything going down there.

Haytham keeps an even pace for a while before he gets up on his hands and knees, pushing Shay’s hips up with him. He bows his head, hair falling over his face as he quickens his pace. He pants loudly now as he tries to reach his high. And this new angle and pace has Shay gasping and grunting at the tingling sensation. At the coil tightening in his gut that is close to bursting.

He wraps a hand around his dick, matching Haytham’s pace. He wants to come at the same time. Try to at least but they’re both so close. Shay can feel it and by the way Haytham is going at it, he’s close as well.

Shay comes first, his whole body tensing up as he lets himself go onto his stomach. It hits him like a punch to the jaw, making his head spin and spiral. He tightens around Haytham’s cock, stuttering the man’s movements. But Haytham uses the last of his energy to thrust hard a couple more times before driving his dick deep into Shay with a grunt and a moan. The warm sensation of Haytham coming inside of him makes Shay’s own orgasm something that makes the room spin even more. He has to quickly cover his face with a hand to make everything stop, all so that he doesn’t have to lean over the bed and vomit up everything he’s ingested in the past couple of hours. Which Shay thinks would be a complete mood breaker.

Haytham collapses onto Shay, almost winding the man. But the weight is fine, it grounds Shay quicker than what he was doing himself. And Haytham doesn’t seem to notice which is a plus. They both stay still, catching their breath and too tired to move.

Shay makes the comment in his head that they should clean up before passing out. He doesn’t know if he gets as far as voicing it because he’s not sure what his mouth is doing at the moment. Everything seems numb. It’s all lost though as he passes out, slipping into a drunk and sex filled sleep.

[thesconesyard]

Where the West Begins

26. Vaquero

“Honey behaving over there?” McCoy asked. He and Robbie were riding into town. Scotty and the others were getting ready to brand the young cattle and that was one task McCoy avoided as best he could.

“Aye, she’s a sweet horse.”

“That she is,” McCoy agreed. He himself was riding Pepper, knowing that a spirited horse like her was a bit much for a newcomer like Robbie.

Robbie had been on the ranch for nearly a month. He got on well with everyone, as alike to his brother in that as anything. He was helpful and happy. Scotty too was extra jolly since Robbie had arrived. McCoy would be happy he had written that letter for the rest of his life.

“You sure you don’t want to help with the branding?” McCoy asked with a sly grin on his face.

Robbie tried to hide a grimace. McCoy had noted a few times when Robbie had not appeared to enjoy the work on the ranch. But McCoy couldn’t blame him. Coming so far from another country, to a land very unlike where he was from, to work he’d never thought of doing before; to McCoy it made sense if the man was uncomfortable at times.

“Do ye?” Robbie asked in turn.

“No thank you,” McCoy laughed. “I know Monty says that Spock is a wonder with the animals, but I just can’t bear to hear them cry out.”

“But patients cry out,” Robbie said.

“Not to me,” McCoy said quietly. “Not anymore.”

“Ye fixed up Pavel last week; why not still practice?” Robbie asked.

McCoy sighed softly. “Helping on the ranch is enough,” he replied quietly.

“Oh.” Realization crossed Robbie’s face. “That’s something I shouldn’t ask isn’t it?”

McCoy gave a slight nod. He liked his partner’s brother very much, but he wasn’t comfortable enough to spill his own story.

The first stop in town was the post office.

“Hello Dr. McCoy,” the clerk greeted him. “Everyone’s letters?”

“Yes sir,” McCoy smiled back.

“Give me just a moment,” the clerk said, and he disappeared into a back room.

McCoy stepped over to read notices on the wall and Robbie followed.

“Never know who might try to show up on the ranch,” McCoy chuckled humorlessly.

“Here you are doctor.” The clerk returned with a small pile tied with brown string. “You know for a moment I thought you were Mr. Scott sir,” the clerk said to Robbie. “He’s not been in for a while.”

“I am Mr. Scott,” Robbie grinned. “Just not the one ye know. I’m his brother.”

“Oh! Well! How about that!” said the clerk. He was an older man and adjusted his glasses to peer at Robbie more closely. “Well you look just like him. Have a good day gentlemen!”

“Thanks. You too,” McCoy said. He and Robbie left the office.

“This is a nice wee town,” said Robbie as they stopped on the walk outside the post office. McCoy tucked the letters into a pocket, then looked up and down the street.

“It really is,” McCoy agreed. “I’ve got to get some things from Dr. M’Benga and then what say we stop for a drink at Gaila’s? Kill some more time so they can really be done with the branding?”

“Lead the way!” Robbie smiled.

“This is more like it!” Robbie said as they settled at a table in Gaila’s saloon. McCoy smiled and took a sip from his drink.

Robbie looked at him nervously. “I- I don’t think I’m cut out for life on a ranch like all of ye.”

“Some people aren’t,” McCoy said evenly, waiting to see what Robbie was going to say.

“And I don’t want to hurt Monty— I don’t want him to think I’m leaving him.”

“What are you thinking?” McCoy asked. He set his glass down and looked at the Scotsman.

Robbie sighed. “I worked in stores back home. I didn’t work in fields or barns or with cattle like ye. There was a sign in yer post office there looking for help.”

“So you’d stay here?”

“Aye, but would Monty be hurt? I think he wants me to stay there.”

McCoy sat back and thought. “I think he would understand,” he said slowly. “Would you prefer to live here in town?”

“Maybe,” Robbie shrugged. “It’s still so small compared to Aberdeen, but I feel so little on the ranch.”

McCoy nodded. “Then you’ll have to be honest with him.”

“Aye,” Robbie agreed quietly.