#I’m coming off anon in the hopes that I won’t get any more hate on my fics lmao

[tsume-inuzuka]

Save Me/Take Me

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Tw: Taboo Relationships, Modern AU

Summary:

Left behind at the cusp of eighteen, Sakura has no choice but to reconnect with a man she had thought she would never see again.

[bearambles]

ARUGUMENT FIC W HAMZAH PLEASE like gets into an argument and you need to cool off and leave and he won’t let you jus angst 👅👅

jealous

(hamzahthefantastic)

words: 1.9k

warnings: established relationship, angst, arguing, swearing, hamzah is kinda a pos, happy ending

note: i hope this is what you were hoping for! i could also 100% write a part 2. also, i think another anon recently requested an argument fic, so there might be another one coming bc it was honestly fun to write. love u all, more fics coming soon

hamzah is driving you insane.

he’s usually not the “jealous type”, but for some reason, today is different. he’s grumpy and pissy and you think you know why.

last night you had gone out to dinner with a few friends from your old school. you weren’t out late, and the group was only about ten people, but to his dismay, your ex boyfriend was one of them.

you told him about it as soon as you knew, and he was pretty passive as soon as he heard. still, he didn’t make too big of a deal, even when you wore your skimpy little outfit to the bar. after all, it was high school. besides, he trusts you.

that was until he saw the pictures. your exs hand on your waist. the way he’s next to you in the group photo. it all really pisses him the fuck off, and even when you swear to him it meant nothing and the guy didn’t mean it, he wasn’t so sure.

“y/n, you see this guy after like five years, you look fine as fuck wearing that tiny fucking skirt, and you think he won’t be into you?���

you scoff, your chest now rising and falling. you really never pegged hamzah as the type of guy to act like this. yet here he was, standing in your bedroom, a few feet away from you with his arms crossed over his chest.

you’d crawled into bed last night to him asleep, and the two of you had been completely fine until this morning. he woke up to see your friend post on instagram about the night prior. he scrolled through her photos before finding the ones of the whole group.

“okay, so it’s my fault if he was?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you meant it though!” you run your fingers through your hair, frustrated. “listen, i already told you it was nothing. but if it wasn’t, if he was interested, it doesn’t matter, because im dating you.”

he smiles tightly and shakes his head, the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.

“sure. okay. yeah.”

“you think i’d cheat?”

you stare at him, your blood pressure rising. you can’t believe the way he’s acting. the shit he’s implying you’d do.

“i never fucking said that, y/n. i’m just saying he was touchy, and you won’t admit it.”

“it was one fucking photo! he happened to be next to me! where did you want him to put his hands?”

“anywhere else! not your waist! it’s fucking weird!”

“so you’re mad at me because of the way a guy acted towards me.” you say, sitting down on your bed and mimicking his move of crossing his arms. “that’s really fucking progressive of you.”

“oh my god, you know that’s not true. jesus christ. i’m not mad, im just fucking annoyed. and i don’t like how you acted either.”

“how did i act hamzah. you weren’t even fucking there.” you start to feel tears prick your eyes. you hate crying in front of him, you rarely do. but this was so frustrating, listening to him accuse you when you only love him.

“i still saw.” he mumbles, clearly losing what he was trying to say in the first place. he’s just spitballing stuff at this point.

he isn’t even looking at you any more. his eyes meet the floor and he’s breathing so hard you can hear it just barely. he’s close enough to where you could reach out to his arm and pull him on top of you. you won’t though.

“saw what? my tiny skirt?” you laugh, baffled. “just leave me alone.” you can feel some of the tears start to fall.

he looks up at you when he hears your voice break. his eyes soften their gaze but he stays where he’s standing. it’s silent for a moment before you speak again.

“go away, hamzah.” you say, moving your position to lay down, your face turned away from him.

“no. i wanna talk.”

you’re silent.

“y/n-“

“i said go away.” you mumble between sobs.

you’re stiff for a long moment before you hear him sigh. he turns and leaves your room, and you wait till you hear the door click before really letting yourself sob.

you’d dealt with this in the past - controlling relationships where anything you did around any ex was considered suspicious. in fact, you almost didn’t go last night. but you’d wanted to catch up with your old friends. if it was up to you, you wouldn’t have had your ex there either. he was a total jerk back in the day. but he was, and it was fine. you’d barely spoken outside of taking that group picture.

you don’t want to fight with hamzah. he’s your person. but the way he’s acting is scary.

eventually you decide you need some air. you get dressed, throw on some makeup, and head out the door. you don’t know where you’re going, but you know it needs to be away from here. away from him.

he jumps up from the couch and catches your wrist right before you can turn the knob. you whip your head around, and meet his eyes. he looks just as pissed as before.

“where are you going?” he asks, still gripping you hard

“what, do i need your permission to leave the fucking house now?” you bite back, wriggling our arm free, “get off me. i’ll be back later.”

he starts to protest, but you slam the door before you hear any of it. if you had any fucks left to give, youd tear up again. at this point though, you’ve had enough. if he wanted to be like this, you weren’t gonna entertain it.

the city’s relatively walkable, so that’s what you do. there’s plenty of stuff to do around the area. retail therapy, you think. whatever makes you forget about this argument for a while.

-

it’s late when you walk home. later than the night before, and later than you’d ever been out without calling. you and hamzah had one another’s location, so really, he could see anytime where you were. which was the outdoor mall, and then the local bar. you’d only had a few drinks, but you were there for a good two hours. just talking and talking to the bartender. you guys are friends, and she was a good listener. so she listened.

“he’s just being so mean. and like, he’s never mean. sometimes we argue and stuff, but it’s always over stupid stuff, you know? and like, we make up super quick. but he’s like, so mad at me. and i swear to god, i didn’t even do anything.”

“it’s his first real relationship, right?” she asks, while pouring a drink

“yeah. i guess maybe that’s why. i just like, never thought he’d be like this. all jealous.”

“i think most guys are, honestly. or at least, the insecure ones. either way though, he shouldn’t be acting that way. i’m glad you got out to clear your head.”

you nod and take a sip. you’re tipsy, you realize. it actually feels pretty nice though. letting loose to someone like this. you should be talking to hamzah, but he doesn’t seem to want to listen. you sigh and shake your head like it’ll clear the thoughts away.

when you walk through the door, the house is silent. it’s nearly one am, so you assume at first that hamzah fell asleep. that is until you’re going to hang your jacket up and hear him open the bedroom door. you press your eyes closed, ready for the reprimanding.

“you scared the shit out of me.”

you turn around to face him, and his eyebrows are knit together. he’s in the doorway, his arms crossed and his back against the doorframe. he chews at his lip.

“sorry.” you mumble, going to take your shoes off.

“sorry?” he scoffs, uncrossing his arms and using them as he speaks, “you were out for hours, y/n!”

“i told you i’d be back later.” you don’t look at him, don’t step forward. you stand there, your arms pressed against our chest, holding yourself tight.

“that’s all i get then? not even a text? what the fuck, y/n.” his nostrils flare as he talks, and he starts moving closer to you. “I had no idea if you were safe! you could have gotten fucking killed.”

you laugh, moving your head back like you can’t believe what he’s saying. though honestly - he’s right. the city can be sketchy, especially at night. you seldom went on walks without him this late. especially drunk. which, he hasn’t seemed to notice you are yet.

“killed? come on.”

“don’t act like that’s crazy to say. the streets are dangerous. you know that!” he’s in your face now, motioning with his hands. “seriously, y/n, what the fuck.”

you flinch as he raises his hands in exclamation.

“so you’re mad again, great.” before you know it, you’re crying again.

you hold yourself tighter as tears start to fall. you feel like a little kid, just standing there helpless. the drinks are really getting you now.

hamzah is silent for a minute as you sob. he stands so close to you, but doesn’t dare move. when you finally look up at him, his gaze has softened and his hands are in his pockets. he reaches out slowly to brush your hair out of your face, looking at you like he’s waiting for protest. instead, you lean into his hand on your cheek.

he stares at you for a moment and you can’t tell how he feels. his eyes scan your features, landing on your lips, which are quivering just slightly. after a few moments of just looking at one another, he puts his arms out, offering a hug.

you fall against his chest and start sobbing all over again.

he rubs circles into your back absent-mindly, whispering little “shhs”. you don’t even thin of how angry you were today. how mean he was. you just cry and let him hold you. he pulls you two apart and goes to hold your face in his palms.

“how much did you drink,baby? " he asks, wiping a tear.

“not that much. just like, a few.”

“a few what?”

“mmm seltzers?” you say, more of a question than an answer.

he sighs.

“okay. well, i think you should go to bed, yeah?”

your eyes scan his face, searching for whatever emotion he’s hiding. surely he’s still angry. you hold onto both his arms while you speak.

“hamzah.”

“yeah?”

“i don’t like my high school boyfriend.”

“i know.”

he presses his eyes shut tight. his chest rises and falls slowly and before you can argue that he clearly doesn’t know, he speaks again.

“i was gonna apologize when you got home.”

“but now you’re mad again.” you say, pouting

“not about that. and i’m not mad, y/n, i was worried. you were gone for five hours without a text or anything.”

“m’sorry.” you mumble, pressing your head against his chest again.

“let’s go to bed, okay?”

he strokes your hair as you breath in his scent. he’s warm, and it hits you how tired you are. Ou nod softly against him and before you know it, he’s picking you up and carrying you to bed. giggling, you land with a plop. he joins you and holds you tight.

“we can talk more tomorrow, yeah. you deserve a better apology but i have a feeling you won’t remember much of it if i tell you now.”

you nod, scooting back to press your back against his chest. he kisses your shoulder. you fall asleep.

-

i hope you guys enjoyed >.< requests are open

[pupkashi]

Idk if your taking requests but I may or may not be in need of a gojo comfort fic when your boss is shitty and work is stressful👉👈

hi anon i hope this brings you a little comfort <3 wishing you all the best you amazing hard worker !!! i didn’t expect this to get this long

everything seems off the second satoru enters your shared home. there’s no sound from the kitchen or tv, there’s no music playing and there’s no lights on.

his first instinct is to panic, his mind racing as he wonders if something bad had happened to you, ready to burn down the world to ensure your safety and make anyone responsible pay for hurting his lover.

then he takes a deep breath, calms his racing heart and calls out your name. when he gets no response he frowns, heart rate spiking again as he searches the living room, kitchen and restroom before heading upstairs.

a wave of relief washes over him when he sees warm light peaking out from the cracked bedroom door. he’s about to open the door to loudly greet you when he stops in his tracks, heart dropping when he hears your muffled sniffles.

the second you see the door opening your face pales, trying your best to wipe any stray tears away before satoru can see you.

“angel! didn’t expect you back so soon” you laugh nervously, wiping your nose with the sleeve of his your sweatshirt as you stand up from the floor. you know your eyes are puffy and red, you know you’ve been caught but a part of you hopes satoru will let it slide just this once.

the other part of you knows he won’t let it go, he’s going to do everything in his power to help you and make you feel better about it all.

“what happened? are you hurt? who hurt you?” his words come out with a flurry of emotions; anger, sadness, and worry all wrapped up with a bow of concern as he walks up to you quickly. he’s gently resting his hands on your shoulders, looking you over and around the room to try and figure out what had happened.

“I’m okay it’s nothing” you say, trying your best to force a small smile, but your bottom lip quivers. it hurts satoru too much for him to stand around doing nothing.

“sweetheart please,” he whispers, brows drawn together in concern, “I just wanna help you.” his gentle words are enough to make you break down into tears again, knees weak as you let yourself sit on the edge of the bed, holding your head in tour hands as you cried.

“work is just so shitty” you say as best you can, calming yourself down as satoru holds you against his chest tightly. “my boss treats me like I’m an idiot who can’t do anything” you mumble against his chest.

“i do everything i can and prove myself over and over again- I’ve taken on so many things lately and it’s so stressful and for what?” you question, pushing yourself off your lover and looking him in the eyes, “all so they can tell me i need to do better? i hate it there, they never acknowledge me and- i hate it” you cry, tears welling in your eyes once more.

the last weeks had been too overwhelming to handle, but you’d set your emotions aside, wanting to perform at your best at work. your boss’ shitty remarks were the tipping point for you as you clocked out.

satoru holds you tightly against him, trying his best to calm you down. he’s rubbing your back with one hand and holding your head against his chest with the other. it’s not until he feels you only hiccuping as you calm down that he loosens his grip on you.

when you pull away from him you cringe at how soaked you’ve left his t shirt, biting back an apology as you know the state of his shirt isn’t even on his mind at the moment.

“did you want to just vent or did you want me to give input?” he asks softly, acknowledging that sometimes he doesn’t need to give you any advice, you can handle yourself when you need to.

“just wanted to vent i guess” you mumble, thanking him when he hands you tissues to blow your nose.

“i can always kill your boss” he smiles. you smack his chest softly, chuckling as you shake your head. you know he’s not joking about it, fully prepared to end anyone that makes you cry. “okay then how about buying out the company?” he thinks, a finger on his chin as you shove him.

“stop throwing your money around for nothing” you tell him, making him pout as he looks at you.

“it’s not nothing though, it’s for you” he says, pressing a feathery kiss to one of your cheeks, “I’d spend every penny i have to see you smile, sweetheart.” the words have your face growing hotter by the second, and you don’t care to admit the way your heart thumps against your ribcage at his confession.

“but for now how about i just spend however much you want on some takeout and snacks, yeah?” his words make you smile, letting yourself lean against him, letting your eyes flutter shut. they burned slightly from how hard you’d cried, for a second you worry about how swollen they’ll be tomorrow, but it quickly fades when you feel satoru’s lips on the top of your head.

“here, pick whatever you want while i go start the shower” he smiles, handing you his phone before he’s kissing your forehead and heading to the restroom.

time seems like it stops for a second, as you scroll on satoru’s phone and pick your favorite takeout, you leave it unlocked so he can ass his meal on there too. like clockwork he’s stepping out of the restroom, motioning for you to join him in the restroom.

it’s one of the most intamiye moments you’ve shared with him, letting him gently take the clothes you were wearing off. you step out of the pants and underwear pooled around your ankles a he ushers you into the shower. satoru takes his clothes off afterwards, following you in and grabbing the shower head.

he lets the warm water run over you, making sure to get your hair soaked before he’s getting shampoo in his hands and massaging it in. then he does the same with the conditioner and body wash. it’s relatively quiet, save for the water running and satoru’s occasional humming.

once he’s done he’s giving you a warm towel, wrapping it around you and telling you he’d be right out. satoru shampoos his own hair with much less gentleness and care than he had yours, quickly rinsing his hair and drying himself off before joining you on the bed.

“you wanna wear my sweatshirt? I’ll spray my cologne on it for you” he grins, heart leaping when your eyes sparkle at his words. satoru doesn’t waste a moment, handing you the sweater and a fresh pair of underwear.

he’s putting in boxers and grey sweats, messily towel drying his hair when the doorbell rings. “you wanna eat up here or downstairs?” he asks you, slipping a black t shirt on before opening the bedroom door.

“let’s do downstairs” you smile, watching as he walks down the hall and disappears down the stairs. you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief, feeling like the pressure of the world had been washed down the drain thanks to your lover.

life feels okay again as you eat takeout on the couch, a shitty romcom on the tv as you two poke fun at the main characters of the movie, betting on what cliche they’ll do next. there’s a pint of your favorite ice cream flavor waiting for you in the fridge and a bouquet of flowers in a beautiful vase now adorning the dinner table.

satoru keeps you at his side the whole night, pampering and assuring you how amazing you were. he makes sure to tell you that he could easily support you if you wanted to quit, he could have you moved to another location if you just say the word.

but you shake your head, “i just had it piled up for too long, I’ll be okay” you assure him. “plus i have a really great boyfriend to help me when things he hard” you add on, making him smile and hold you tighter.

“sweets you don’t need me at all, you’re much stronger than i am” he chuckles, “i would’ve killed them by now; you’re so resilient.” his words make you smile, letting a comfortable silence fall over the two of you.

work sucks, your boss is an asshole. but satoru is always there to help you when things get too much. and you have a sneaking suspicion that a blue eyed man is behind your boss getting fired in two days time.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke

[blackhairedjjun]

staying afloat - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, argument -> makeup, implied friends to lovers, office worker!taehyun, the subtlest of love confessions | word count: 899 | warnings: burnout and exhaustion from overwork

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - HEAT: while engaged in a passionate argument with one another, sender, in the heat of the moment, blurts out “i love you!” to the receiver. think of like, that glorious trope where people have a huge argument and then suddenly sb drops the mic with “because i’m in love with you!” and silences the other person. u know the trope! (requested by anon)

author's notes: HI ANON im sorry this took sooooo long. as i said, this was hard for me to write bc i already did the heat prompt twice before and i didn't want to be too repetitive with the arguments... the argument here is a bit calmer and more one-sided on yn's part but i hope it still works!

“you are running yourself into the ground, taehyun!” you grab his shoulders and give him a little shake. taehyun watches you closely, and you can see the darkening circles under his eyes. 

he’s still standing before the threshold of your home, right in front of the door. with just one step he could walk in if you weren’t blocking his way. outside, the night air is so cold that you shivered instantly upon opening the door for him. the sky is dark, with neither moon nor stars, and the only light comes from the fluorescent bulb at the doorway.

“y/n, you’re up working too,” he says. his voice is steady but firm. “you can’t tell me what not to do when you’re also working like this.”

“i’m doing overtime for just one night, for god’s sake. but you 一 you’ve been so busy and tired for what, two weeks? you forget to answer my texts. forget!” you throw your hands up. “and you’ve never forgotten before, not in all the years that i’ve known you.”

taehyun stuffs his hands into his pockets and his gaze flickers away from yours for a second before it returns. though he tries to stand his ground, you notice the soft look in his eyes, laying bare the tiredness and worries weighing down on him.

“well, i’m here now. why won’t you let me make it up to you?”

“because it’s one in the morning and you’ve been staying up late for overtime and extra projects for what, two weeks now? you go home late and you wake up early, your boss dumps all this work on you, and you barely get any time off!” you take a step closer, now fully exiting the warmth of your home, to stand so close to him. “please, taehyun. it’s not that i don’t want to see you, but you’re so, so tired. i can see it in your face.”

you reach out to touch his face, but his expression goes taut and your hand hovers just inches away. he turns away from you before you can scan his eyes for the tired look you saw; a cold breeze blows by, causing both of you to shiver and pushing the bangs away from taehyun’s forehead.

he looks... sadder than what you remember. you remember how easily his face would light up before he took on his new position at his job; he would smile at the smallest of your remarks, his big eyes sparkling like jewels. you thought of the steady stream of texts from him day after day, reminding you to eat or commenting on a silly photo you took, and how that stream soon turned into a trickle. the memories make your body feel heavy.

taehyun says nothing for a few moments and just lets out a sigh. when he looks back at you there’s a pained look that wasn’t there before, and you feel an ache in your chest at the sight.

 “y/n, i... i don’t want you to worry about me like this. i can’t... i can take care of myself. please, please just trust me. i hate watching you worry like this.”

“oh, you hate watching me worry?” your tone rises before you even realize it. “and i hate watching you turn into this! you’re exhausted, taehyun. you’re not yourself anymore. i can’t even remember the last time i saw you smile! do you know how much it hurts to see the person you love lose himself like this?”

you tremble in your spot and your words start to trip over themselves. your emotions pile onto each other, keeping you from speaking straight: some anger, yes, but mostly disappointment, worry, loneliness, fear. “i ha一 i hate seeing you like this, taehyunie. i can’t一 i can’t watch一 i love you too much to see this一”

taehyun cuts you off to pull you into a hug. he holds onto you so tightly, as if trying to wrestle you away from the emotions gripping you. one of his hands makes his way through your hair. angry tears prick at your eyes but you relax in his hold, finally letting out a sob.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his hand combing through your hair then rubbing your back. “i know you’re just looking out for me... and you’re right. i am exhausted...”

something shifts and now you feel his full weight on you. now you’re the one holding him, his head moving to rest in the crook of your neck, his shoulders fully slumped. the weeks of exhaustion have finally caught up to him, and you wrap your arms around his waist to prop him up.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he repeats. “for not... listening to you... for forgetting...”

your hold on him tightens and tears stream down your face, but you manage to speak. “i just don’t want you to hurt yourself...”

neither of you say anything more. taehyun doesn’t let go of you and sinks fully into your touch; despite the chill night air, he’s still warm in your arms. you let your tears fall freely as you keep a firm hold on the friend you love, as if letting go of him means he will sink and drown.

the night is so quiet that the murmur he lets out against your neck still comes out loud and clear.

“i love you too.”

[artdcnaldson]

mean art in patricks sister au being upset with art after they finally fuck for leaving. so she doesn’t talk to him like for a week. and finally he corners her and takes her to his dorm and fucks the attitude out of her bc shes being a brat

i need this so bad bc 🐞 anon made me feral

Ok this is so different but so fundamentally similar that I’m combining these <3 <3 <3

But mmmm <3 taking a week away from him, denying him the pussy he craves so badly because your feelings are hurt :( Because he can’t keep being mean to you and treating you like you’re disposable. You’re NOT, and you know he actually wants you. Maybe he just needs a reminder of how badly he does.

He knows something’s up when you don’t show up to one of his practices. You usually sit on the bleachers, in a section shaded by the sun. You’ll have your books laid out, your headphones on, and you’ll catch his gaze and wave sweetly, just so he knows you’re there (not that you’re hard to miss). He hated it at first— it was embarrassing and so fucking clingy— but he hated it more that you were gone.

It felt mortifying to text you, to sink to your level, but your absence grated on him. Where were you today?

It’s a while before you respond, just a plain one-word response like he usually sent you. Busy.

That night, he pulls up your facebook page, gets hard looking at pictures from the Mediterranean vacation you went on. He starts to jerk off, but gives up once he remembers he could always just actually fuck you instead of beating off to bikini pics like a fucking loser. He texts you again: Still busy or can I come over?

You type back after ten minutes. Yeah, still busy.

When you walk out of your lecture the next day, Art is waiting nearby. He knows you’re going to say goodbye to your little friends, walk over all cute and dainty, and let him take you back to your dorm. Instead, you avoid eye contact and walk along with your friends. You disappear inside of a coffee shop on campus. He watches you giggling and talking over open textbooks. Occasionally, you sneak a glance outside, like you expect him to be there.

After a week of you brushing him off, he waits outside of your room. You walk up and frown when you see him, distaste dripping from your features. “I’m not in the mood,” you say plainly.

“You’re always in the mood,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, so you’re pressed against his chest. “C’mon, your roommate’s out.”

“She’ll be back any minute,” you lie, wrestling out of his grip. When he persists you just sigh and meet his gaze. “I really don’t feel like being treated like shit right now, okay? It’s a fucking lot to take, and maybe you get off on it, and maybe I do to, but after we’ve both cum it just sucks.”

He swallows, knows he’s in the wrong, but won’t admit it to you like this. “I’m not going to fuck you like a girlfriend,” he says firmly.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Yeah, but you could fuck me like a person, at least. Night, Art.”

He feels like a fucking idiot, standing in the middle of the hallway, freshly rejected and wearing it like a battle scar. He sulks back in his room, tries to jerk off to your tits in a bikini but can’t stay hard. That’s your fault.

When he’s outside your lecture in the morning, you sigh and try to avoid him. He jogs to catch up, turns you to face him. “I’ve been an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you reply with a sigh, meeting his gaze. Your eyes are soft, sweet. You’re trying your best to understand, even when he’s not sure if he does. “It’s fine, I mean— I’m not your girlfriend.”

“But you’re… I mean— I’m not fucking anyone else, okay?” It feels like he’s being slowly flayed alive to admit it, to expose that soft mushy side of his heart to you after everything.

And your eyes brighten up, happy and eager, hopeful. "You're not?" When he shakes his head, you practically bounce on your feet. Smiling so sweet and pretty up at him. "Me either. I mean, you knew that."

And he does know that. You wouldn’t even dream of letting another man touch you if it meant it might spoil your chances of being happy with Art. You were still clinging to that hope that he’d pick you, that he’d wake up and realize you’re his sweet, perfect little girlfriend.

“Okay, so we’re good?” He asks, almost frowns because he feels so stupid. If Patrick knew he was acting this fucking whipped for anyone, he’d never let him live it down. But here Art was, trying to make sure you weren’t mad enough to deprive him of your perfect fucking pussy.

And sure enough, you nod, smile sweetly. “I’m free for the afternoon. My next class got cancelled.”

It’s no surprise when he’s right back in your dorm, bullying his cock into your tight little cunt. So pretty beneath him, so fucking devoted. And your body just takes it like an act of fucking worship. He shouldn’t have even apologized, he knew you would wind up begging for it. You needed him that bad. He just got impatient is all.

Your legs wrap around his waist, tugging him closer, deeper. “So good, so good—“ You gasp, over and over. Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as he drives into you, so hard he’s worried you might draw blood. “Fuck, Art— missed this, missed you—“

It had only been— what?— a week? You needed him so bad, craved him with your entire being. It gave him a major fucking ego boost, knowing that the week apart was just as bad for you as it was for him. That you’d been fucking killing yourself to prove a point.

Nicer. He’s supposed to be nicer. He leans down and kisses you hungrily, licking into your mouth while you mewl beneath him. He feels every moan reverberated against his mouth, relishes when you pull back and pant soft gasps against his lips.

When you’ve both cum, when you’re just laying in your sweet, frilly bed and smiling over at him like he hung the moon, he feels a pang of… something. He could’ve done this that first night— stayed, held you a little. He was a dick— just trying to prove a point, prove that you didn’t mean anything.

But look how desperate he was after a mere seven days. Couldn’t even go to another girl to get his dick wet because he just wanted you. He knows he’s fucked— knows he’s already in too deep and he cant crawl out of this hole he’s forced himself into.

You lay your head on his chest and your breathing goes steady after a while. He tries not to feel a twinge of fondness. Tries to remember this is all just to keep you happy so that he can have unrestricted access to your pussy. Tries being the operating word.

[hamiltonaf]

Expecting the Unexpected | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Angst but turns into fluff / Kind of smutish towards the end / Cursing if you squint.

A/N: Thanks to anon for requesting. Currently working on other requests so hopefully they will be posted soon. Hope you guys enjoy .xoxo

2 years of marriage. It went by very quickly but gosh it annoys me being asked that one question since the day we were married. When are you guys having a baby ?

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love kids and of course I want to see Kylian being a dad, but the idea of having a baby right now at the age of 23 wasn’t part of my plan. Studying a post graduate degree isn’t easy and especially going to work in between. I’ve heard it countless of times to drop work and studying because Kylian is there for me, but all I really want is independence and not having to hear one day that I used Kylian.

As family oriented as I am, I’ve come to a point where I try to avoid meeting any family - my own included - just to avoid being asked the dreaded question. I hate the idea that straight after getting married, all that’s left is to have kids… why can’t married couples enjoy their life for a few years at least before growing their family ?

Since Kylian’s season was over, my mother-in-law had invited Kylian and I for dinner. I was willing to go for dinner since I haven’t seen my in-laws in a while, but my mood turned sour when my boss instructed me that I needed to stay behind and do corrections to my work that was apparently incorrect.

Kylian had texted me asking me where I was and I replied back apologising that I won’t make it to dinner because my boss was holding me back to do extra work. He left me on read.

The corrections drove me insane because I did as I was told to do, but yet my boss gaslighted me saying that he told me to do something else. Asshole. I left work 2 hours later and went straight home, not knowing if Kylian was back from dinner or if he was still with his family.

As soon as I unlocked the door, I dropped my keys on the kitchen counter along with my bag. I could hear the TV playing and walked my way to the lounge. “Oh you’re here. Sorry I missed dinner. My boss was being such an ass and gaslighted me saying-“ “Save it” he cut me off as he continued to watch the TV. “Excuse me ? What do you mean save it ? I literally told you that my boss was holding me back to do extra work, I didn’t have a choice !” I raised my voice as I walked around the couch to stand in front of him with folded arms. His ‘don’t-care’ attitude was driving me insane, he literally had the audacity to continue watching TV.

“Kylian. I had a long day and the last thing I want is for us to argue” I toned down my voice. “I’m so done making excuses for you” he said as he finally met my gaze. “What excuse ? You didn’t even give me a chance to finish ! I was saying that my boss gaslighted me into thinking I did the wrong work when I literally followed his instructions. He held me back because he wanted me to correct it” I started to grow annoyed. “Lies lies and more lies. Just admit it (Y/N), you didn’t want to come to dinner because you’re worried about them asking you when we’re going to be parents. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me ? Our relationship looks so one sided” he raised his voice as he stood up and towered me.

“One sided ? You know that’s a lie. Also, enlighten me on how it’s embarrassing for you when I’m the one who’s expected to carry our child, not you ! So do tell me how you’re the one under pressure” I raised my brows. “How do I answer my mum when she asks me when will she be a grandmother ? What do you want me to say ? Oh don’t expect to be a grandmother any time soon because (Y/N) isn’t interested in having a child !” He yelled in my face.

“I- you know what, I can’t continue this conversation any further” I said calmly as possible before walking away from him. “No, we’re not done talking. Why do you keep running away from your problems ?” He asked as he followed me. “Can you just shut up ! Ugh !” I groaned as I walked to our room. With all my built up frustration and stress, I could feel tears start to pool at my eyes.

“(Y/N) answer me !” He said as I came to a halt. I looked up in hopes of getting rid of my tears, but the second I turned to look at Kylian the tears threatened to spill. His look softened when he saw the tears run down my face. He stepped closer and cupped my cheeks. “I’m sorry ma chérie” he said as he wiped my tears away with the pad of his thumb. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to try, and calm down. I walked away from him and walked to our en suite to lock myself in the bathroom.

He started knocking on the door and calling out,“Ma chérie, I’m so so sorry. Please forgive me. I hate fighting with you and seeing you cry. I’m just so frustrated from being asked the same question over and over.” I don’t know what came over me but I couldn’t stop crying to myself. I was so focused on my thoughts and emotions that Kylian’s words were inaudible.

After a minute the door had suddenly burst open. I looked up in shock to Kylian as he rushed to my side and pulled me in for a hug. “Please don’t scare me like that” he said softly. I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand and turned to look at him. “Are you crying ?” I asked as I half smiled. He nodded as I wiped away his tears. “Please talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I hate being left in the dark, I don’t know what else to tell our family. Why can’t we have a baby ?” He asked.

“I love you Ky. I really do…but having a child after 2 years of being married wasn’t part of my family planning” I pouted. He pressed his lips together as a sign for me to continue.

He remained silent for me to get to my point. “Ky, if I barely spend time with you, why would I even think of us having a child right now ? I won’t lie that at times I did think that maybe us being parents would change things for the better but I kept holding back because I have too much on my hands right now” I said as I avoided his gaze. “Babe, then why don’t you drop studying and working ? Why put yourself through so much when I can be the one to provide for you and our baby” he said as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “It’s easy for you to say but I just happen to enjoy being independent. It’s how I’ve always been growing up, besides that, the last thing I want to hear is people calling me a gold digger or user blah blah. I didn’t marry you for your money, I married you because I love you” I pouted.

He broke into a smile as he cupped my cheeks and pulled me in for a sweet kiss. “Please don’t worry about what other people think. What’s mine is yours…I love you so so much. I’m sorry again for snapping at you, besides being asked that question so many times, I myself had questioned when will the day come that we’ll have our own mini us” he smiled at the thought. “I know you said that we barely spend time together, I’ll also take the blame for not spending more time with you when there were times that I could’ve made the effort. Again, I’m sorry for not being the greatest husband, I’ll try to do better” he said as he held my hands and rubbed small circles with his thumb.

“Please stop apologising. You’ve been such an amazing husband to me. I know this whole thing got blown out of proportion, we should have had this conversation sooner” I sighed as I pulled him along with me to sit at the edge of our bed. “I agree, but don’t feel pressured into doing anything. I get it” he said as he held my face with one hand. “This timing is really bad but I don’t think I can keep it a secret any longer. I’m pregnant” I pressed my lips together. “Stop playing with me babe” he half laughed. “Ky I’m serious. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a dad !” I squealed.

“Wait. Really ?” He asked again. I nodded my head as he then screamed and jumped up whilst punching his hands in the air. Once again he cupped my cheeks and placed his lips on mine. He then lifted me up and spun us around the room. “I can’t explain to you how happy I am ! Why didn’t you tell me sooner and when did you find out ?” He asked eagerly.

“I found out about 2 days ago. I did a test because my period was late for about 2 weeks and I thought it was just one of those moments where it’s rarely late, I don’t know what made me take a test and a few minutes later I found out. I was planning to do a whole cute reveal for you but like I said, everything had gotten blown out of proportion. You didn’t know this, but I was actually looking forward to coming to dinner, I thought I could reveal it tonight just amongst our immediate family but then I was genuinely upset by my boss” I half smiled. “Oh no. Now I feel even more terrible. Babe I really am so sorry I just-“ I cut him off by grabbing his face and connecting our lips together.

Our lips moved in sync as he walked backwards to the edge of the bed. “Stop apologising” I said as I straddled his lap and broke away from our kiss. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents. I can’t wait to be a dad. More especially, I can’t wait to see you grow and carry our baby. You’re already so sexy, I don’t know how I’ll contain myself seeing you from now on. I say that this calls for a celebration” he smirked. “I was hoping you’d say something like that” I wrapped my arms around his neck and closed the gap between us.

[anystalker707]

Got ya

Pairing: Marine!Portgas D. Ace x Pirate! [male, amab] Reader Words: ~ 3 200 Summary: The rear admiral has a favorite pirate, apparently. Tags: Rough / Bruises / Overstimulation / Hate fucking / Dom-sub dynamics / Dom Ace / Very light dacryphilia / Objectifying

Requested by anon ["Smut with Ace & Amab reader, (Hero x villain), Hate fucking (they just won’t admit they like each other), lots of overstimulation, Reader is a villain & Ace is a hero (...)"]

MASTERLIST

          It’s always that damn marine. The same rear admiral coming after you to ruin every plan you have. Sometimes he’ll just blow things up indirectly or make it quick when he can’t hold you captive. How could he be so annoying? You make part of the Worst Generation, of course, but you don’t remember Kid, Law, or any of the others having a personal marine going after them like that.

There was a while since the last encounter—which involved Ace creating a fire barrier that fucking stopped you from doing anything until the marine cleared the area. Worst thing? You were actually just helping the local village get out of the control of some other pirates that were the real bad ones, but no, Ace was there to make your crew seem like the villain of the story. Again.

Ace sort of left you in peace after that. He disappeared for a while, instead showing up in marine propaganda with that damned smile. You hated seeing that pretty face on the first page of newspapers, but you still kept it. All those pages of newspapers, either hanging on your cabin’s wall or kept inside the first drawer of your desk. Those pretty eyes stared at you whenever you lay on your bed, thinking about how you should’ve just taken a knife and buried it right into Ace’s chest the last time the two of you were having drinks together. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be like you are right now.

Ace had fucking caught you. You were on a random island, and the only thing you knew next was that you woke up, tied to a chair with the idiot sitting on top of a desk in front of you, swinging his legs. Was it all a plan? Did he give you a pause so that you’d let your guard down?

Well, it didn’t matter now.

“Oh, look at who’s awake again!” A silly grin stretched across Ace’s face as he looked at you, leaning back on his hands.

A sigh escaped your lips. Your head didn’t hurt, surprisingly. “That’s mad cliché.”

Ace observed you for a moment, then exhaled, shortly and humorously. “Let me think about something else to say.” He paused, tongue peeking out between his lips as he thought for a moment. “I’m glad you’re finally in my hands, I hope you enjoy your stay. Does that sound better?” A smirk played on his lips. Idiot.

“You’re so funny,” you didn’t even try to sound sarcastic as you moved your fingers over the armrest of the chair. Your ankles also ached to move, but they were way too restrained for that. Soreness tugged on your muscles, that sharp pain making itself present the more you tried to move. A sigh escaped your lips. How long had you been tied there? Damn, Ace. “Let’s just skip the part where we have a drink and let me go already. I’m not in the mood for our pointless talks today.”

With a quiet hum, Ace hopped off the desk. “No, I don’t think you understand what’s happening. That’s it, (y/n). There’s no going back. The marine has caught you, so that’s bye-bye to your pirate era.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. “Don’t be annoying,” you said simply, voice strained. “I’m really not up for jokes today, Ace. You really just interrupted me in the middle of a—”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t care,” Ace said simply as he stood in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets when he leaned forward to your level, and you could finally see his eyes properly. There was something different about them. There was some sharpness in his eyes, and the playful glint they usually carried was replaced by something else. It was different from what you were used to seeing when it came to Ace—a shiver ran down your spine while you gulped.

“I’ll be making sure you don’t get away this time, (y/n),” he said in a softer tone of voice that made your skin rise in shivers, but you couldn’t really identify whether it was due to panic or something else. Ace’s index finger ran along your throat before it was set under your chin, lifting your head, so you could look at him. “You’ve been causing a lot of trouble, and do you know what we do with pirates that stress us out a lot like this? Yeah, we keep them on a tight leash,” he said slowly, eyes never averting away from yours. His words sank in a little harder than they should.

It took you a solid minute to ground yourself again and gather your thoughts. “Well, drop the act. I know you’re not that type of marine. You hate a tight leash yourself.” It was obvious how much of a headache Ace could be for his superiors—it was practically common knowledge, at this point.

A small scoff escaped Ace’s lips. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get my duties done. Or better— It doesn’t mean I don’t achieve my own goals.”

          Ace was exposing you around like some wild animal he had caught. He had his arms crossed and that grin over his face the whole time, always nearby whenever you were interrogated by the other navy officers. There were so many repetitive and boring questions that you had to go through with those shitty, heavy handcuffs sinking into the skin of your wrists.

Once all the interrogation was done, your mind felt so fuzzy. Your thoughts couldn’t complete themselves. All you could do was curse everything and everyone. It took you every ounce of self-control in your body not to curse and kick everything when your jacket got stuck on the door handle.

Ace could probably see the annoyance irradiating from you, with that lousy smirk over his lips as he walked ahead of you. The look on his face made you want to strangle him with the chain of the handcuffs, but you just walked past him when he opened his office door for you again and let you walk in. You sat onto the armchair with a huff, trying to finally calm down as you kicked your feet over your desk, but you were driven to the edge again as Ace started clicking his tongue.

“Nope,” Ace said after closing the door. “Where are your manners?” He scoffed exaggeratedly as he pushed your feet off the desk and let them fall to the ground.

Hell, how could someone be so annoying? Your blood boiled under your skin, heartbeat in your head as you glared at him.

“You think you can—”

The words died on your tongue at the moment Ace’s gloved hand took firm hold of your jaw. His eyes gazed into yours with that sharpness once again; his face was so close you could feel his breath fanning upon your cheeks. “Who do you think you are here?”

“Who do you think you are to control a pirate?” Your voice was breathy and as low as his.

Ace’s lips parted into a grin as he tilted your head back up. He turned it from side to side as if to get a good look on your face. Are you some object to him or something? That loser.

“I know I always say that,” Ace said with a chuckle, “but you look so adorable when you’re angry like that.”

That really was the last straw. Ace couldn’t even see it coming when you suddenly stood up and pinned him to the wall with the cuffs’ chain across his neck. His eyes widened, but it was a matter of time until Ace started laughing. His hands wrapped firmly around your wrists as he looked at you.

“You can be quite stubborn, can’t you?” Ace scoffed. “That’s so annoying. Can’t you just recognize it when you fucking lose?” Ace’s grin disappeared as he easily pushed you off him and pinned you to the wall instead, holding your hands above yourself by the chain of the cuffs. “Don’t make me waste time.”

“Ah, Ace, go get a life!” You said through gritted teeth. “What even are you doing now that you caught me? I thought catching me was sort of your life goal or something.”

The way Ace started laughing made you lose it again, and you tried to fight him, thrashing and kicking. He was actually caught off guard this time, resulting in the two of you wrestling a little until he had you pinned to his desk this time—the edge of the wooden surface dug into the back of your thighs as he forced you back. His lips were parted in a wide grin as his hands closed tightly around your wrists.

“You better stop this,” Ace said with a chuckle, though humor wasn’t the only thing it carried. “My patience is starting to run out.”

“I don’t care,” you hissed in response. “Aren’t you always making things happen your way? Letting me run away in the end? Let me go already. You’re taking this way too far—”

Ace’s fingers were tight around your jaw again, making you look at him. Something about that simple action made your heart jump in your chest every single time it happened. “You’re not escaping anymore,” Ace said, his breath fanning over your face with the smell of the fruit drink he had earlier when talking with you during one of the uncountable interrogatories. “And I’m making sure of that.”

Damn it, that voice of his…

“You are?” You scoffed. “If anything, you’re a useless Marine. You could’ve caught us so many times—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ace said as his face fell serious. “I’m not joking—”

You started struggling against Ace again, trying to get his hands off you, not minding how his palms started heating up against your skin. “Then fucking shut me up!”

Ace’s eyes widened a little as you started shouting, and the tightening grip of his fingers around your jaw sent pain sharp enough to make you falter.

“Oh, I will.” Something played in Ace’s tone before he pressed his lips to yours, making you gasp and ball your hands into fists. Despite all the tension and the will to fight, it wasn’t that bad.

A soft sound escaped your lips with the way Ace’s lips pressed forcefully to yours—forcefully, but damn, enough to make your legs want to give up under you—, and the way his thumb gently ran along your jaw made you snap back to reality. That damn fucker. You bit down on his lip harshly, making Ace hiss as he pulled away.

“You’re asking for it!” Ace scoffed.

Damn it. Maybe you were. Maybe ever since the first time you ran into him. The grin on your face didn’t deny Ace’s words, making his gaze change a little as he pushed his things off the desk before pushing you on it instead. He had one hand on your hip and another on your wrist for some leverage.

“You’re so annoying!” Ace clicked his tongue and forced a kiss upon your lips again, starting to move his lips only when you finally welcomed the kiss.

It was a shitty, forceful kiss, but it sent the blood straight to your crotch. His tongue ran against your bottom lip before he took the smallest opportunity he could to push his tongue into your mouth with a soft groan, also managing to snatch a sound from you. His tongue pressed down to yours, gliding against it as he deepened the kiss and pressed closer out of instinct. Fucking hell. It had you throbbing, but you half wished it wouldn’t have been against Ace’s thigh. He felt that, of course—he broke the kiss with a satisfied sigh.

“I’ll show you who you’re messing with,” he whispered, “and make sure you don’t escape again.”

Ace wasted no time. His fingers unbuttoned your shirt skillfully, letting his hands roam over your chest and pinch your nipples. He seemed a little amused by the way you tensed up, skin raising and shivers and nipples hardening as you squirmed just by the little touches. His thumbs pressed to your nipples to rub circles into them until you let out a sound—a hiss through gritted teeth because of the friction of his gloves against your sensitive skin. He let himself continue his journey until his hands met the waistband of your pants to start unbuttoning them.

“Fuck you,” you whispered as you observed his hands. The chain between the cuffs was long enough to let you lean back on your elbows as you sat on the desk, even if it was uncomfortable.

Ace scoffed a chuckle. “Well, that’s what I’m going to do, can’t you see?”

He let out a low whistle once your pants were unbuttoned, revealing your tented-up boxers. Your tip stretched the thin fabric, making its shape obvious. He took his glove off by biting on the tip of the middle finger of it and pulling his hand, then let the glove fall to the side.

There wasn’t any discretion in Ace’s touches. No hesitancy. He just took hold of your cock through your boxers, giving it a couple of experimental pumps, his lips slowly curling up into a smirk once it made you start squirming.

“As much as I’d like to,” Ace said as he got rid of your pants and boxers—along with your shoes—properly, then removed his other glove. “I am not going to invest too much into foreplay. Not this time.” He reached into the desk’s drawer, rummaging through it.

“This time?” It probably sounded more desperate than you intended it to be.

Ace chuckled. “What?” He didn’t formulate. He turned back with a small tube in hand, pouring lube generously on his fingers before he also let some of it over you; the cold liquid made you hiss and twitch once it fell on your balls and slowly dripped down to your ass. You squirmed with it, but not as much as when two of Ace’s fingers started tracing your hole and pushed in. The soft burning feeling and the discomfort of the intrusion quickly subsided as Ace’s fingers curled up. Given how brief it was and with little real care, you presumed it was to actually spread the lube rather than prepare you for anything.

Your elbows were starting to hurt from pressing into the wooden surface of the desk like that, but you couldn’t resist it. You simply had to see it the moment Ace lowered his pants and boxers, mixing the bit of pre-cum that coated the flush pink tip of his cock with the lube he had in hand.

“Finally,” Ace breathed. He hooked a hand under your knee to push your leg up, and feeling his gaze on you like that made you throb more. Fuck. His cock sat heavily on his hand as he stepped closer, and just the tip of it pressing to your hole was enough to make you squirm. Amusement laced Ace’s grin—his eyes met yours before he finally started to push in.

��F—Fuck you! Fuckin’ hate y—you!” You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips when Ace’s cock started stretching you so good, making your arms give up under you. Lying on that desk wasn’t comfortable, but it was one of the last things you thought about now that Ace was thrusting his hips into you while his fingers sank into your thighs to hold them up for him.

          The moans were impossible to suppress, even with Ace scolding you. Whenever he got annoyed and scolded you, the thought of being caught only made you tighten around his cock, leading Ace to fucking you harder and snatching more moans from you. Even when he teased the way you came so fast the first time—all the teasing and degradation just made you more sensitive and louder, something that Ace didn’t hesitate to exploit. His hands were everywhere, he was deep inside you, and his lips were wherever he could reach. He fucked you until your eyes crossed before giving you a break and starting it all over again, not caring whether you were shedding tears or not.

Despite the way your neck hurt, you kept your head up to observe Ace.

Ace’s eyes were half-lidded, eyebrows occasionally furrowing as he practically made out with your chest. His lips were wrapped around your nipple, sucking and licking on it. He had been on it for a couple of minutes already, and his touches made you feel on fire, but you wouldn’t make him stop, still. You could tell that excited him—his cock throbbed inside you while he kept that extremely slow pace. Suddenly, his eyes shifted to meet yours, and it was just a second before his teeth sank into your skin.

A long, loud whimpering moan drew from your lips as you arched your back and let your head fall back again, squirming with the sharp pain. Cold air replaced Ace’s warm lips once he pulled away, and he was back on slamming inside you again, fingers sinking into your thighs enough in a way he’d probably leave bruises behind.

The moans slipped past your lips with each thrust, each time your body rocked, but you had already given up on fighting that. You looked at Ace, observing it as the strands of hair started to stick to his face and neck already. Looking down at your chest, you saw that the hickeys he’d left behind were now accompanied by a bite mark that formed a ring around your nipple. Fuck. He was hot.

Ace suddenly pulled away, and all you could do was mumble slurred questions about what he was doing, only to be silenced when he guided you to change positions, letting you bend over the table this time. Your arms felt too weak, so you just let them rest ahead of you, and this position thankfully gave your legs some rest, despite how feeling the surface of the desk all over the bare front of your torso wasn’t the best thing ever. It wasn’t only that, though.

A gasp escaped your lips as Ace pushed inside you again, his cock reaching new angles that just felt so perfect. You felt like you could easily cum again, but he was careful not to let that high arrive so easily. He aimed for your sweet spots, rubbing your hips in a way that made you squirm the most, but his motions fell slow again at the moment he felt you squeezing around him way too much. Hearing your words fall into incoherent pleas satisfied him so much. Something he took pride in.

Ace moaned as he squeezed your hips, feeling his own high arriving again. He had come a couple of times already, but not as much as you, and his self-control was starting to falter a little. He hissed softly as he rolled his hips, holding tightly onto yours, so he could fuck you as harshly as he wanted to, fucking you through his release and apparently giving you yours as well.

“Ah, fuck,” Ace cursed as he observed his cock slowly slip out, letting the cum trail out of your hole. He took it in his thumb, pushing it inside you again while biting his lip.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[chairofchaos]

55 or 57

Maybe Azriel x Eris or Tamlin x Nyx

All about the sweet fluff amidst family filled drama

Banned from Bed | Tamlin x Nyx (Nymlin?)

A/N: Anon, I hope you find this appropriately sweet because I laughed like a maniac the whole time I was writing this. Enjoy!

“It isn’t fair.”

Tamlin opened his eyes, darkness in the room around him. Being awoken in the middle of the night was nothing new, not with his lover being the Prince of Velaris.

“I hate it, Tamlin,” Nyx sighed, sitting delicately at the edge of the bed. “We’ve been hiding this for a century.”

Tamlin sat up, reaching for the raven-haired male. They had this conversation every so often, but the instances Nyx brought it up were increasing in frequency. “I know.” 

Nyx sighed once more, kicking his boots off unceremoniously. His wings flared behind him as he threw his body over Tamlin’s, tackling him both back into the pillows. Tamlin couldn’t help but laugh.

“My birthday is in a couple of months,” Nyx continued. “I want to celebrate here, with you. It was bad enough not being able to see you around the Winter Solstice.” 

Tamlin drew in a deep breath. “I would love to. You know what that would mean.”

“I know.”

“Would you be ready for that?”

“I’m turning 400. None of this should matter.”

“And because you’re turning 400,” Tamlin teased, kneading Nyx’s shoulders, “You know exactly why it matters.”

Nyx nipped at Tamlin’s neck with an equally teasing snarl. “I can’t help the fact that they both need mind healing and won’t get any.” 

Tamlin laughed at that, rolling Nyx off of his body as he sat up. “Well. Truer words. Come on, your shoulders are ridiculously tense.”

“I flew here,” Nyx admitted. “I know, I know. I’m getting older. You're older still, Mr. Nine-Hundred-and-Ten. But Dad was having sex in the sky-”

“Nyx please,” Tamlin groaned, covering Nyx’s mouth with his hand. “Please, please do not talk about your parents’ sex life when we are in bed. Or ever.”

“Hmm?” Nyx hummed against Tamlin’s hand, his eyes flaring with challenge as the bond between them coursed with a matching fire.

“Darling,” Tamlin ground out between gritted teeth. “Please.”

A sudden abnormal darkness filled the space between them, and faster than even he could blink, Tamlin found himself being pushed back into the pillows before the normal darkness of night returned.

“What did I say,” Nyx pressed Tamlin’s hands into the bed with his own, “About calling me ‘darling’?”

“Well. Apparently topics previously banned from bed were allowed.”

Nyx’s blue eyes narrowed. “Really. So you’re goi- oomph!”

Tamlin had flipped them back the other way, slotting his hips between Nyx’s thighs while he shifted his legs to a larger form in order to weigh his mate down. “I’m going to kill this conversation.”

“Oh?”

“I mean it. Your shoulders are seriously terrible. Please roll over and let me help.”

“Fine,” Nyx sighed dramatically, raising his head to give Tamlin a brief kiss. “If you insist.”

Still, Tamlin didn’t move. He watched his mate stare up at him for a moment before speaking. “Do you mean it? About telling them before your birthday?”

“Yes.”

“We should talk about it again in the morning, but I would plan a mating ceremony in a heartbeat if you let me.”

Nyx paused, then nodded. “Let’s plan a mating ceremony, my beast.”

Tamlin chuckled lowly, lowering all his weight atop his mate’s body. “As you wish, my prince.”

[be-my-ally]

Attention needed. (Jealous Elvis Request)

Dearest anon, darling, here you are! Apologies for the *slight* delay, work has kept me far too busy and tired this week - and also, I intended this to be a very quick 1-2k, and somehow that turned into 4k….so hopefully you enjoy!!! I found it a little hard to make it Jerry, who I can’t see knowingly flirting with Elvis’ girl, but I hope I did the prompt justice by making it a -teeny- bit of miscommunication.

pairing: afab!reader x elvis

summary: Reader wants Elvis’ attention, but he refuses to give it to her so she tries to make him jealous, going so far to cozy up with Jerry.

warnings: 18+, jealous!elvis, physical altercation b/t elvis + jerry (not with reader), oral sex (elvis receiving), hurt/comfort with slightly injured!elvis.

wc: 4.4k (whoops)

You hate when he ignores you like this. It’s worse because you know it's calculated, intentional. It’s not just that he’s busy recording, or messing around with the other guys (although he is) but he’s toying with you, in his twisted version of flirting, playing with you. The trouble is that the rules to his games never get shared with you. You’re left guessing how to react, or what his aim is - does he want you to fight him? Argue until you’re forced to be “taught a lesson”? Submit - simply allow him to do whatever, ignoring both your heart and brain? Or some strange, acceptable combination of the two? It seems to change every time, and it’s impossible to guess his reactions at the best of times, let alone when he’s intentionally trying to keep you unbalanced.  And it is, certainly, intentional.

It has to be intentional; his determined actions to ignore your glances over at him, ignoring you lingering in the doorway of the recording studio, your hand on his thigh in the car. In fact he’d brushed you off, not in a malicious way, but in a  - I’m talking to my boys and having fun and moved my leg and didn’t even realise you were there - way. Which in some ways annoys and hurts you more; because you can’t wholeheartedly accuse him of doing it on purpose, and to bring it up would imply that you don’t want him to have fun with his friends, which of course you do. 

So, it has been building the whole day, leading to where you are now. Sulking on the edge of the bed, as you hear him play-fighting with the other ‘boys’ outside, although you can’t see them - its summer and it’s warm enough that the windows are open, but even with the curtains drawn it’s too dark to see. It was late, Elvis’ schedule didn’t conform to trivial things like day and night. So, despite the lateness of the hour, it’s only just coming up on dinner time. He’ll be up in a moment to change - it’s not required for any reason, it’s just family tonight - no-one special to impress, or photographs to be taken but he still likes to look his best. Especially considering he’ll be undoubtedly rumpled and muddy from their roughhousing. All you can think is that you don’t care to think of him looking his best, you just want him to really look at you. See what you’re trying to communicate with him. 

You hate how he makes you feel like it’s you who’s lacking, or who has to put in the extra effort. But still you do it - it annoys the hell out of you but you still do it. You’ve changed into a little powder blue set, teased your hair up high - just how he likes, determined to get his attention back. Your intention, is to make him look at you, force his attention onto you, which means a grand entrance. Which means that you’ll have to hide when he comes up to change and allow him to go downstairs alone before following. He won’t be able to ignore you coming in by yourself. You roll your eyes internally, at the ridiculous lengths you go to for him. When you hear them all coming into the house you dive into your little dressing room, locking the door behind you. You can hear him humming to himself - as he thuds about the bedroom, you can hear the closet door opening and closing and the water running in his bathroom as he gets himself ready and then, a few minutes later, his quick footsteps as he hurries out and back down the stairs. It’s what you wanted, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to look or call for you. 

The annoyance grows, as you wait, when he doesn’t come himself or send someone to get you for dinner, forgetting in your sheer annoyance that he has no idea where you were. You head down the stairs after a few minutes had passed, you can hear the noise of the dining room as soon as you leave the cushioned sound proofing of his upstairs suite. When you walk in, late, you expect a reaction. Sure you’d wanted him to look at you, appreciate you, but you had also expected a little more. To be denied anything else - him simply glancing up at you, and pointing to the empty chair saved for you to the left of him at the head, was borderline offensive. Normally he’d have commented either in annoyance, or out of a protective worry - checking that nothing was amiss, that nothing had kept you. But tonight he does none of that, simply turning back to his conversation - not even waiting to see if his silent order was obeyed. It was, but you’d argue simply because it was the last seat available, not because you’d wanted to. 

That particular place puts you directly next to Jerry, and just out of Elvis’ reach. It’s not an unusual place for you to sit, you’d normally sit as close to him as possible; sometimes sitting up with him or him sitting with you, sometimes even on his lap, but it is rare for him to tell you where to go. He’s commanding and wants his own way, but he’s not normally so demanding in such normal circumstances. You humph to yourself but nonetheless do as he wordlessly commands - you wanted his attention though, not half a glance and an order. You’re quiet through the meal, despite the rambunctious energy from the rest of the table - everyone in high spirits from the finished recording session, and time off they had that evening. 

Elvis ignores you entirely, laughing and joking with Sonny and Red who were sat closest to him, but also joining in on the conversations happening around all sides of the table - shouting down to be heard when necessary. It’s a bit of a squeeze on the table tonight with so many of the closest knit memphis mafia boys staying, extra chairs added and the table extended. Which means that while Elvis, as ever, remains with more than enough space you’re knocking elbows with Jerry. You smile apologetically at him whenever it happens and he responds in kind back at you. You like Jerry, he’s always been nice to you and you’ve never felt the competitive edge that some of the other members of the ‘mafia’ seem to have from him. You chat politely to him, but you don’t have huge amounts to talk about tonight and he’s more preoccupied with the other conversations happening around you so you mostly eat in silence.

Being this close together though does give you an idea of how you might catch Elvis’ attention. You lean over to top up Jerry’s wine glass, using your left arm across your body so that you have to place your right hand on his thigh for balance. You can feel him look down in surprise at you, clearly taken aback at the forward action, uncertain as to whether he should pretend it didn’t happen or acknowledge it. You stroke his thigh once as you linger your hand before pulling it away and he appears to hold his breath until you’ve picked up your own glass with it. You don’t look at Elvis. If he wants to ignore you, you can do the same. Time to play with him for a change. Jerry shifts a little, and you smile at him, allowing him the opportunity to pretend nothing happened. He does so, but you can tell he feels slightly uncomfortable at the suddenly charged atmosphere. You risk a sneaky look over at Elvis, and see that his jaw is tight, although he doesn’t give off any other impression of anger. Your own frustration grows, as he continues to stare away from you - even though you can see him chewing his cheek almost every time you look over - as if in silent signal that he can tell you’re watching. Still, he doesn’t say a word to you. 

When dinner finishes Elvis leads the way into the TV lounge, and you follow. You need to figure out how to up the ante a little, but without taking it too far. Little did you know the chance would come quite quickly. Elvis immediately settled himself onto the large sofa, cigarillo ready to be lit, and some of the others followed. It was pretty crowded, and it wasn’t long before they broke out to some of the other rooms around, spreading out a little. It made it easier to keep one eye on Elvis, while you considered your options. You were stood near the bar - it wasn’t like you were the only one still standing, every place to sit in the room taken up (despite the fact that normally Elvis would have insisted they make room for you - you’re a lady after all), when Jerry came up to it to pour himself a drink. He asks if you want one too and when you agree he does enough for two, handing you the glass as he comes back out. You chat about nothing in particular, and Jerry seems legitimately interested in what you have to say, and you drink, until you’re significantly more relaxed - almost forgetting about your mission. 

You’re two drinks in now, and that plus the wine at dinner has made you a little brazen. You lean against the wall, and you can feel Jerry’s eyes track down your body as you, subtly, push your chest out a little. You continue your conversation, not really talking about much, but you can tell he’s panicking slightly about what to say or do to you. You look over at Elvis again who’s busy entertaining - regaling a couple of the boys left behind with tales from tour, and sigh. Jerry tracks your eyes, and frowns for a moment, 

“Why’d you put up with it?” You look up at him, surprised he would be so direct, 

“What do you mean? I don’t, he’s just…” You’re annoyed with him but you still don’t want to badmouth him to one of his best friends so your trying to choose your words carefully, “Look, you know probably better than anyone that you can’t tell him what to do, or what not to do. So you just have to…go along with it.” His brow furrows as he looks down at you, and he turns so that you’re both facing each other while resting sideways against the wall - if you turned your head slightly you could rest your cheek on the cold wallpaper. 

“It’s just - you’re a swell girl, you’re so pretty, real bombshell like, and you could have anyone, hell he won’t even say he’s in a relationship with ya!” You smile and inch a little closer, not wanting to be overheard. 

“Well, thank you that’s very kind. I’m not… blind to my own attractiveness Jerry. I’m not, … look, here’s the thing. I’m not super needy, or desperate to be liked for my own self worth, but I like him, and that might make me an idiot but I do! So, I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, because I like him, and that’s all there is to it.” He continues to stare, with a slight commiserating look in his eye. You know he understands more than most. You’ve somehow ended up even closer to one another, barely a few inches between you now. 

“I just don’t think he treats you right.” He shakes his head, and you go to say something in reply but you’re interrupted by Jerry’s arm being abruptly grabbed and pulled away from you, 

“What the hell you doing Jerry? Hitting on my girl like that! What’s wrong with ya!” Jerry stumbles back, and rubs his arm where Elvis had grabbed him, 

“Jesus- EP, we were just talkin’ is all. We weren’t doing nothing.” You can sense that Elvis wasn’t believing him, 

“Looked from over there like you were about to do more than that. Looked like you were about to try and kiss her. You going around kissin’ my girls now?” You shake your head, starting to protest, and he whirls onto you, holding up a hand, “I’ll deal with you in a second little girl. Come on now Jer - you now saying you don’t want to kiss her?” Jerry stutters back at him, 

“No-I uh, god, no offense y/n. I wouldn’t E!” 

“No? Sounded like you’d try, I heard you Jer, ‘he don’t treat you right’ is what you said ain’t it!” It’s like watching two cars collide in front of you, you simultaneously feel panicked by the way the conversation is going, but also can’t look away. Jerry suddenly seems to have had enough of being accused or perhaps simply aware of the inevitability of the next event and draws himself up, 

“Well, so what if I did - it's true.” The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Elvis’ fist is flying. 

“What the hell! Elvis! His nose!” You’re horrified at the action unfolding, but you can’t help but be a tiny bit pleased that Elvis is at least fighting for you, even if it is with a pinch of guilt that it’s at Jerry’s expense. Jerry is, unlike some of the others, not afraid of Elvis - and not unwilling to fight back, although you can tell he’s purposefully not aiming for Elvis’ face. So they scrabble together, Elvis stumbling back onto the edge of the sofa after a particularly hard shove from Jerry. 

“Elvis! Jerry! Someone stop them!” You’re shouting at the other men in the room, but it’s too late - the pair go crashing over the top of the sofa, and hit the coffee table on the way down. Both of them lie flat on their backs for a moment before Jerry stands, offering Elvis his hand. He takes it, and is immediately pulled up, shirt ruffled, hair a mess (although he’s faring better than Jerry with a black eye forming and a red nose) and you step forward - “What was that all about! Of all the childish stupid things to do! Look at the pair of you!”  Elvis looks over at you, his eyes blazing, panting, before storming out of the room. You turn to apologise to Jerry, and he accepts it with a small nod of his head, heading over to the little bar for a drink after the drama. He’s not one to hold a grudge, and to be fair neither is Elvis - they’ll be friends again in half hour. 

You can hear Elvis shouting to himself as he tears through the house and you’re in half a mind to let him wear himself out before going in to him, but the other half of your brain is telling you not to let him rile himself up any more than he already is. So you follow, but slowly, and by the time you get into the foyer he’s sat on the sofa in the music room, leaning heavily against its back, his head tipped back and his eyes closed.  You can see his chest heaving with breaths from the exertion, and can tell, from his brief wince on the inhale that he’s obviously hurt a rib. You find it hard to be sympathetic though, since it was of his own making. 

“El-“ 

“Don’t you start little girl - I saw you flirting like a goddamn teasing whore, trying to turn me the fuck on. With Jerry of all people.” You wince at his tone - eyes wide in an attempt to protest your innocence, 

“That’s not fair - he wasn’t - … you weren’t paying me any attention! He was just talking to me!” He scoffs at you, 

“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” He swings his head forward to look at you and he’s calm, but you know that can sometimes precipitate further emotion from him. You can’t help but think he looks good, even as you can tell there’s bruising forming under his shirt; slightly sweaty, hair ruffled, and his shirt coming untucked. Actually, he looks a lot, and you blush as you recognise the thought, like he does when you’ve had sex. You start to stutter out some apology or explanation but your mouth has gone dry as he continues to stare at you. He crooks his fingers, the same two fingers he always does and you follow him closer.  He pats his thigh and you warily approach, half expecting to be flung over his knee, he’s unpredictable like this. You try to perch delicately but he pulls you up and across with a slight grunt. Probably from his rib, you look down at him, 

“This is silly - you’re hurt! Let me have a look.” You start to pull at his shirt, as if attempting to get underneath to assess his injury. But he stops you with a tight hand on your wrist. 

“I’m fine, nothin’ that won’t be sorted after a shower.”  His dismissive tone does nothing to reassure you, but you can’t protest when he shakes you slightly with his hold around your wrist and waist. “Now, baby, what was all that about. You gonna try and tell me again you didn’t do it on purpose?” You falter for a second, you don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to admit to your actions; you’re a little embarrassed to have stooped to such a level. “You’ve been doin’ it all evening - god, all fucking day, trying to get on my damn nerves.” Now that you will protest. 

“Elvis! I haven’t! Not all day! I was jus-“

“Ah-ha!” He crows at you, “So you admit, you were this evenin’ though huh honey?” You wince, refusing to incriminate yourself any further. “Trying to rile me up all night you have - turning up to dinner late, and you think I don’t know you were hiding in your bathroom?” You look back at him, slightly stunned to be so called out, his hand leaves your wrist, trailing up to your face. He strokes the side of your cheek from the bone of your eyebrow to the base of your chin. You tremble, feeling goosebumps springing up on your flesh.  He does it again, stroking down before he, with the same fingers, grabs hold of your face, gripping your cheeks in his fingers - squeezing them together. 

“Say you’re sorry, say ‘sorry Elvis’.” He mimics you in a high pitched tone. You start to protest and his fingers dig in tighter, 

“So-rry Elvis.” You repeat back to him, he hums back at you. 

“Got a nasty habit of arguing with me, little girl. I ain’t gonna put up with that anymore. Not from you.” You nod, and his hand, almost in praise, travels up your thigh. You squirm, your heart beating fast, suddenly aware of your pulse - you wonder if he can tell. He trails his fingers down your cheeks, stopping near your throat, resting for a moment before skipping down to hold you around your waist again. He leans his head close to yours, his breath tickling your ear. “You want my attention darling, you just gotta ask. I ain’t dealing with this bratty shit no more.” His hand strokes your inner thigh, “Understand?” You frantically nod back, 

“Yeah, yeah of course, of - uh - course.” You probably shouldn’t find it so hot to be told off but you do.  He shifts you from leaning so heavily on his side, and you sit up completely, looking over at him sternly - you knew he was in pain. He interrupts you before you can say anything though.

“Been tryna get you to just ask me for what you want all goddamn day. But Lord did you make it difficult for me.” His eyes have a certain glint in them, and you’re not wholly surprised when the next words out of his mouth are, “Guess you oughta make me feel better then little one, you gonna make it up to me? - Go on, baby, get on those little knees for me.” You half roll your eyes, not convinced you’ve done anything that requires apologising but still you slink off his thighs to kneel between his legs. It’s not something nice girls should admit to, but it’s not a hardship for you to take him in your mouth, in fact, quite the opposite. So you kneel, letting him unbutton his trouser - his hardening cock immediately jumping free. 

You lean forward, stroking him gently to full hardness. You go to kiss the tip, and his hands find their way into your hair, bracketing your head, his rings catching a couple of strands that sting a little. But, in a good way that causes your thighs to clench with each little pull. Your fingers go to gently stroke his balls, and you watch as it prompts a bead of white to form at the end of his uncut cock. He grunts down at you, 

“Don’t tease me baby, that’s not how you say sorry.” He pulls your head closer, and the tip of his dick nudges your lips. You let it in, letting it sit for a moment while you adjusted to him being in your mouth again - it’s not something you’re especially skilled at, and you don’t do it often enough to be entirely used to it all but you’re certainly enthusiastic about it. You let it slip out of your mouth with a little pop, taking the time to lick a stripe down his full length, before circling the tip back in your mouth. 

“Thatsa good girl, c’mon now, take it in.” You do as he commands, bobbing down again, tasting his slight salty tang, the sweat from his exertion adding to his general manly musk. Your nose brushes against his base as you open your throat, taking shallow breathes in from your nostrils. His hips jerk as you take a moment to suck, causing his dick to knock against your throat - you can’t help but gag, and you pull off coughing slightly - his hands tugging you off quicker than you’d have gone by yourself. “Sorry sweetheart,” he strokes your cheek as you catch your breath, “God you’re fucking gorgeous.” You blink up at him, through your watering eyes and he groans, his head falling back again. “Lord, if you could see yourself right now.” You smile slightly, going back down on him. Your hands come up to hold his thighs and you dedicate yourself to the task at hand. Bobbing the length of his cock, You’re more prepared this time when he can’t help but move his hips and you go with him, fighting your gag reflex. Your hand finds where your mouth can’t comfortably reach, and gently holds him in place while your other goes down to delicately stroke his balls. You go with where his hands in your hair tug you, up and down, as you feel his thighs clench. 

You don’t have any particularly strong opinions about swallowing, it just depends on your mood and although he’s made it quite clear he’d prefer for you to swallow he’s not about to force you into anything. Today though, as you look up at him through your wet lashes, you can see the glint in his eye as he murmurs that he’s close, and watches you glance about, realising that in the living room you don’t have much choice, unless you’re planning on dirtying your sleeve or the couch. You make eye contact and it seems to be the catalyst to send him over the edge, swearing as you swallow him down. He breathes heavily for a few moments as you finish licking him clean before pulling off to wipe your mouth and chin clean. He tucks himself away, “That’s it. Good girl,” he sighs,  thumbing any lasting traces of wet on your face away, “that was a mighty nice ‘pology.” You smile up at him. Pleased that he’s pleased. 

“I really wasn’t flirting with Jerry,” You tilt your head, “…much.” He guffaws back at you, his previous black mood forgotten, looking down at you with half lidded eyes, 

“S’ok darling, sorry I lost my lid with ya - shouldn’t, shoul-dn’t have. Knew you wouldn’t really.” He pulls you up into his arms, although you protest, and he starts to try to lay you on the couch. “Lemme take care of you now baby, lemme take care of you.” 

“Elvis,” You start tentatively, pushing back on his hands to sit upright. “Wouldya, would you let me have a look at your side? That’s how you can take care of me, let me have a look.” He looks at you, eyes wide, 

“You, you don’t hafta baby, it’s my fault.” You hush him, shifting to be sat next to him and pull his top up, he allows it - lifting his arm to help you roll it up and get a clear look. You tut at the red marks mottling his side, can see where it’s going to develop into a nasty bruise right along the line of his rib, clearly where he’d crashed into the coffee table. He winced when you push into it, but (despite your lack of medical training) you’re pretty sure that it doesn’t feel broken or cracked. Just bruised.

“Let’s get some ice on that, and then I’ll put some cream on it later, ‘fore we go to bed.” He blinks at you for a second, 

“Yeah, yeah sounds like a -ah- plan.” He grunts as his arm comes down, his facial expression changes quickly, a little smirk forming although he’s still got that soft expression on his face, the one that always appears when he’s being taken care of. “You gonna nurse me back to health? Get you a lil’ cap and gown?” You shake your head at him, 

“In your dreams, buddy. C’mon,” You shake his arm as you stand, “Let’s go get that ice.” He nods, following you like a lost puppy.

[cecilxa]

hiii since ur reqs r open, can i please have kaeya, thoma and childe (separate) with a reader who returns home after a tired day with a huge back ache and wants a massage and wants to be coddled and doted on but doesn't say anything bc they dont want to bother the boys but they find out. ty<33

relax in my arms forever, i'll hold you for eternity

contents: fluff, slight hurt/comfort, gn!reader, literally just guys wanting to take care of you :)

cw: food, mention of alcohol, slighty slighty suggestive, allusions of violence

a/n: tysm for this request anon! i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! (this also turned out a lot longer than what i was expecting haha)

kaeya— pavo ocellus  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There’s nothing more that Kaeya loves than seeing the look on your face when you’re elated. The way your eyes crinkle up in joy, how he’s able to see how happy you truly look, and the way it makes him fall in love all over again. On the other hand, there’s nothing more that he hates than to see the look on your face when you’re exhausted, too tired to even give him a small peck on his cheek. He hates the way you won’t talk to him, and he hates the way you think he’d ever think you’d be a bother. You’re acting like this right now, and- even though you’ve still not told him about your fatigue- he’s observant enough to figure it out rather quickly, even with only one eye. 

With his sharp tongue and glinting eyes, Kaeya is usually always up for a ‘nice’ chat- even better with some alcohol in his system- but somehow he’s reduced to placating tones and gentle words whenever you’re with him. He knows that you’re not in any serious danger; otherwise, he would’ve had to deal with a lot more than your tired face, but it still pains him to see you not happy and smiling like you usually are. Another yawn comes out of your mouth, and you lean up to stretch your arm muscles. He can hear the bones in your shoulder clicking as you do so. 

Well, that’s settled it, then. He’s going to give you a massage whether you like it or not. The telling signs of your muscle fatigue and the dark circles under your eyes inform him that you’re in desperate need of some good, old TLC, and what better way for you than for him to give you a special massage, courtesy of his never-ending love. He does want your smile back, after all. 

“Darling, sit down, and get comfy, hmm? Turn around so your back’s facing my chest.”

His velvety voice invades your senses, and- too tired to care- you oblige, shuffling around so that he’s able to properly reach your shoulders. His eyes widen when he sees the obvious hunch of your back, and he resolves to fix it much sooner than later. 

“Kaeya, what are you doing?”

You say to him, sleepily, stretching your arms out once again. He can hear them click once again, too. 

“I’m giving you a massage. No offence, darling, but I think you need it.”

Sighing, you mutter a few words back at him, so quietly that he can’t hear them, but takes it as confirmation for him to continue. He hums under his breath, gently placing two hands on your covered shoulders, making sure to cover the most surface area while still managing to maintain a firm grip. 

“Tell me if this hurts, and I’ll be less harsh.”

You nod, and he gets to work. 

It’s surprising how delicate yet steady Kaeya manages to be. Most people would’ve assumed that he handles things harshly, through no fault of his own; but through all of the battles and fights he’s had to endure. Instead, his hands knead the knots out of your muscles perfectly, and the steady rhythm of going around in circles and rolling the skin of your shoulders helps you melt further into his arms. They caress and tug, coaxing out the stress and fatigue that’s been building up, not entirely unlike his own personality. His hands hit every pressure point they can, and soon enough you’re falling into a light slumber, the soft hums of his voice pervading the air surrounding the both of you. Before you fully drift off to sleep, you hear him chuckle. 

“My, my, am I really making you feel that good?”

Blushing at his insinuation, you try to feign sleep, but one thing you may have ignored was that you should never forget how much this man knows your quirks and habits like the back of his hand. 

“Darling, I know you’re still awake. But, I guess I can play along for now. Your shoulders have loosened up quite a bit, all thanks to my handiwork. You can thank me later.”

He presses a sweet kiss on your forehead, scooping you up ever-so-gently, and silently pads over to your bedroom, placing you down onto the soft mattress. Covering you up with some blankets, he’s noticed that you’ve actually managed to fall asleep properly by now, and he delights in the fact that he’s able to take some time to admire you. 

He much prefers your peaceful, calm look, with no crease in your eyebrows, and no frown that he so hates. Cupping your sleeping face with one hand, he dons a particularly adoring expression.

“I hope you feel better. All for you, of course.”

thoma— rubeum scutum  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Humming a merry tune, Thoma whistles cheerily, eagerly awaiting your arrival from work. He’s been cooking a variety of dishes, each one distinctly picked out to suit your tastes. The smell of food wafts outside, and the apron he’s wearing has been stained with various greases and condiments, which he knows you’ll scold him for. Hopefully, the food will win you over, but some kisses might work as well. He sighs dreamily. Just thinking of having a nice homemade dinner with you has his heart fluttering, the utter domesticity of being able to cherish and spoil you being too much for him to handle.

When he hears the door open, he perks up, eyes shining as he tries his very best not to run straight over to where he knows you’ll be, taking your coat off and hanging it on the rack he managed to buy at half price. He finally reaches the entrance and, a smile reaching his eyes, leans in to hug you, only for you to head straight to the kitchen, leaving him- for lack of better words- utterly gobsmacked. His mouth gapes open, thoughts only of you in his mind. Your usual routine is to hug him, then kiss him, then he’ll ask for some more and you’ll laugh it off, saying that you were hungry and wanted to have some food, maybe giving him a small peck out of pity. What happened today? Did you receive bad news? Has he- no- are you mad at him?

Racing towards the kitchen, not even caring that he’s running on freshly polished flooring, he finds you sitting down, a large sigh coming out from your mouth once you’re seated on a chair. You close your eyes, enjoying the relief that it gives you, when a plate of hot steaming food is placed in front of you. Thoma’s eyes are the first thing you see, overflowing with concern, and- are those tears? His hesitant voice calls out to you, gentle and careful. 

“Baby, are you mad at me? Because if you are, then I’m really sorry for what I did, but could you at least tell me what I did? I love you so much, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

A sad smile etched onto his features, he takes the seat opposite you and begins eating his food dejectedly. You- too stunned to even reply- battle with your thoughts. On one hand, the only thing you want right now is to be doted on by your lover; but on the other, you don’t want to bother him even more; he’s already gone to all this trouble just for you. Your gaze softens.

“No, Thoma, it’s fine, you haven’t done anything wrong, I love you too.”

The concern doesn’t leave his eyes, however. 

“Are you sure? What’s wrong then? Are you tired? I don’t mind going to bed early, but please eat first!”

It’s almost comical how much he cares for you. You would laugh, but he’s hit the nail on the head; really all you wish for is to be doted on by him, being an extremely tiring day at work. A sigh leaves your mouth, making his frown even larger. You’ve made your decision, and there's no time like the present.

“Today’s been really tiring, Thoma, do you think we could take a bath together?”

His frown immediately disappears, morphing into a soft smile, immediately getting what you were hinting at. 

“Of course, baby. I’ll set it right now, finish your food first, though.”

You smile back, allowing him to see the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Thanks, Thoma.”

“Anything for you.”

—

When the food’s been gobbled up (it was suited to your tastes, after all), you and Thoma head to the bath to relax. He holds your hand the entire way, down to when you settle comfortably, back pressed against his chest. His arms cradle your waist, hands absentmindedly stroking your stomach, as you let the warm water relax your muscles. You can hear him humming, his chest rumbling against your back as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Love you so much, baby.”

His nose brushes your cheek as he whispers those words, one hand of his reaching up for a bottle of shampoo. Ever so gently, he lathers your hair with it, hands massaging the roots of your hair. He scratches at the best parts, making sure never to be too harsh, as bubbles start to build up, leaving you oh-so-relaxed. You can feel him press tender kisses along your shoulder, lips grazing your skin in such a loving way that makes your heart beat just a bit faster. Once your hair’s been sufficiently massaged, he takes the showerhead, and rinses all the suds off, making sure to wipe away all the water that comes into contact with your eyes. He murmurs words in your ear, each as caring and tender as the hands that look after his lover.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?”

With the water cascading down your back, and your lover’s hands carding through your hair, you would feel content staying in the warmth forever.

The soft smile- so full of love- that Thoma gives you, agrees. 

childe— monoceros caeli  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

After a day of working (fighting), there’s nothing more that Childe wants than to lie with you, see your face, and he can go to sleep happy. However, when he enters your shared home, he’s greeted with the sight of you all bundled up in a blanket, seemingly staring into a vacant space. 

His first reaction is to coo at how adorable you look, immediately having to resist the urge to tackle and smother you in kisses. His second reaction is to be concerned; no matter how cute you look, he does seem to notice that the expression on your face is slightly off, not like usual. Childe prides himself on being surprisingly observant, but maybe you would expect that based on his Harbinger status. And, if it were to concern you, he pays just a bit more attention than usual. 

His final reaction is anger. Whoever- or whatever- made you like this will pay the price. Usually with their life, but you’ve been trying to teach him not to resort to violence every time he sees you upset. Maybe he’s a bit overdramatic, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

He still feels the itch of his fingers, waiting for a weapon to hold and use to maim; he still sees the usual red in his eyes whenever he catches you off guard, upset. But for now, he’ll have to settle for the clenched fists by his side, as the main problem here is to figure out how to make you feel better. He doesn’t like the distant look in your eyes, usually so bright and carefree, the numbness he’s observing in your body should be carried by him instead. 

Gently padding over to where you’re sat, he holds you tenderly and places you on his lap. Arms wrap around your waist as his head leans to rest on your shoulder. Mustering the best possible smile he can, he turns to face you with an inexplicably cheery tone of voice.

“What’s wrong, darling? If it’s someone, I can get rid of them, no problem! Anything for you, always.”

You mumble back, eyes slightly drooping.

“It’s nothing, Childe. Just a bit tired is all.”

His fists still haven’t unclenched themselves. Childe doesn’t believe you, not one bit, as he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“You sure? I could do with a bit of practice… my aim’s getting rusty. Plus, it’s for you, so it’s no bother!”

Glancing at him ever so carefully, you hesitate. Truth is, you’re exhausted. All you want to do now is lie in bed forever and not come out, basking in the comfort of its warmth. Childe is an added bonus, but gratefully accepted nonetheless. However, you don’t want to burden him; you can see the faint eye bags he’s been trying to hide, and you notice the fatigue in his muscles when he cooks your meals for dinner. 

“Darling? Say something, at least.”

You sigh. The earnest look on his face is too much for you to handle; it reminds you of a loyal soldier too faithful for their own good. Well, that is what his job is, essentially. 

“Can we lie in bed together? I just want to be with you.”

He visibly perks up. The grin on his face widens, and you can see his eyes sparkle- no, not even metaphorically- you swear they actually sparkle. A blush forms on his cheeks, and he laughs like someone so in love that it makes a small smile on your face appear as well. He buries his head into your neck, hands unclenching to stroke your waist.

“You’re so cute! I just want to hold you in my arms forever!”

He does check on you as an afterthought, though. He’s not a totally bad partner.

“You sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yes, Childe. Better now you’re here.”

–

You can feel Childe’s arms wrapped tightly against your waist, his legs intertwined with yours, your head on his chest. You can also feel the soft thump of his heartbeat and it’s funny how even when you just look at him, it speeds up. You point it out to him and he pouts.

“Not fair that you’re so cute!”

Every so often (more like every other moment he gets the chance to) he presses a series of kisses to your face, one on your forehead, one on your cheek, one on your jaw, and one on your lips. They’re also particularly sloppy, but you can excuse that, for him. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you’re feeling a lot better, a lot less tired, and as loved as ever. He lets out a contented sigh.

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Childe. Could you get me some water, though? My throat’s feeling a bit dry.”

He immediately jumps out of bed, scrambling to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. You can hear the shouts of his voice as he runs off, energy at an all-time high.

“I’ve got it! Stay in bed and relax, baby! I’ll be right back!”

You giggle to yourself. He certainly takes the message, ‘love and look after’ extremely seriously.

a/n: tysm for reading until the end ❤️ likes, reblogs and comments are always, always appreciated!

[mazzystar24]

Hi, a 'BT' here! (Although I also happily ship buddie too because multishipping is so valid!) I come in peace and just looking for some discourse if that's okay? I saw the ask in regard to apparently BTs are saying that all the focus on rg means he's leaving? I haven't seen anyone say that on either side so a strange one huh!

But it was more your comments in terms of pushing for Tommy to replace Eddie as lead when Ravi is right there and I just wanna say I agree! And I have seen many bucktommy shippers including myself pushing for Ravi to be main cast. He absolutely should be and deserves it and is an absolute darling angel and I love what he brings to the whole dynamic!

My biggest hope for Tommy is for his to be recurring much like Karen! Speaking of, there's another character I'd love to be main cast and who I think is ahead of the queue in front of Tommy to be main cast. Heck I'd love if all of them got to be main cast but, as much as I love bucktommy, I definitely can see there's an order to who should be main cast and don't want any 'queue jumping'

One other thing I want to out out there as food for thought, is that on both sides I see a lot of discourse thrown out through anonymous asks of 'oh the bts are saying this' or 'the buddies said this ridiculous thing!' And something I would love both sides to seriously consider is... did they really? Or are there just a few people out there who feed on the chaos that it all brings and will send out anon asks that they know will increase this 'fandom war'and pretend they are kn the other side when doing so just to get a reaction and give ammunition to 'their' side to make it seem like one side is delusional and the other side isn't?

Tldr I just wish we all got along and stopped taking messages intended to stir up hate as gospel.

Peace and love

Glad you agree on the Ravi/ main thing front!

As you know I want tommy out already so no recurring hopes from me sorry 😔💔 ngl at first I was like hmm it can be interesting and I’m not opposed to exploring bt and their potential dynamic and maybe they can redeem him and make him likeable it’d be perfect (like my comparison was if they wrote him like Hannah from bones) but like buddie endgame but as eps went on both he and a section of the fandom became so insufferable to me that I’m like I don’t care about the potential juicy storylines I just want this man off my screen - but it’s totally cool if you like him and ship them it’s just not my cup of tea

For the other part I totally get what you mean and that may be the case like I totally agree that that is possible but I hear like so many things that happen in the bt fandom secondhand cos I’ve got so many of the toxic/annoying ones blocked (my block list is a mile long genuinely) and so many have me blocked too but usually stuff that my anons mention will be talked abt by more people in the fandom (like this is) or like there have been times where if I ask my anons for elaboration links ss etc and they are able to do so

That’s why half the time when I reply it’s more so like “damn didn’t know that if that is the case then xyz” you know? Or if I saw something I’ll mention it and be like oh yeah I saw xyz and this is my opinion on it or answer

Also like I’ve first hand seen things that are like 10x worse or more delusional than the “rg must be leaving and s8 lfj main” thing like no lie some of this stuff makes that seem tame in comparison so it’s like the chances they’ve said this are like HIGH

Genuinely I agree with you on that last point I do wish that this fandom was how it used to be and more peaceful but certain things I follow this kinda mental rule I’ve always had which is that I won’t respect a disrespectful opinion

Like from the very start of the discourse I’ve been very oh let ppl ship what they want and enjoy their fandom space and from the start I’ve encouraged proper tagging to help people do that and like even if you’re fully delusional abt your ship I fully respect that (not saying YOU are but I’m saying like let’s say one side is like yesss they are getting married in s8 and having a baby on the first episode I would genuinely just mentally be like woah that’s a bit delulu but love that for you and move on)

My only issue really has been where people from the bt fandom (not saying they are the only ones who do this but I’m saying personally speaking it’s what I see and what I experience also not saying it’s all the bt fans and I do try to say that as much as possible) being disrespectful whether this be through being racist, being ableist or rude to the buddie fans just to boost their ship

Like I’m so not against hating stuff like seriously idc hate whatever you want rant about it and make twenty posts and make so many jokes but when you’re being disrespectful or when it crosses certain bounds it’s like you’re a piece of shit

Anyways I got carried away but thanks for being so nice and respectful in your ask 🫶

[eddiediazismyhusband]

breathe friend you know tommy is bones in s8, he's not bucks endgame the reliable leaker has literally been clear about that. don't believe anything that psychopath on twitter says, she's literally insane.

oh trust me i don’t believe anything she says lmao

and i know the leaker said that about tommy but tbh that dont mean shit about whether or not they are actually going to fix any of the fuckery they pulled in s7

just because they are allegedly giving tommy the boot doesn’t mean they’re going to actually get their shit together and stop ship baiting us; so like i said until they actually start to give us any indication that they’re going to stop mistreating poc characters for cheap drama and that storylines are actually going to be thought out beforehand rather than thrown together because “ehh, this is good enough” i’m not going to be wasting my time. these shows are meant for entertainment. if i am not being entertained by what’s being done, why am i going to waste my energy on it?

i dont say this to sound snippy or rude, anon, and it is NOT directed at you specifically (and i really hope it doesn’t come across that way i am just bad at emoting through screens 😭😭), i promise, but sometimes it feels like people who try to “talk me off the ledge” in these anonymous asks don’t really look at what i’m actually saying and they jump to the conclusion that i’m just making shit up to panic about, but the fact of the matter is that everything i talked about in that post is something that could feasibly happen… all of buck’s love interests up to this point have not been narratively satisfying; developed or not. so even if tommy does end up going like the leaker said (again not getting my hopes up because things change at the drop of a hat in this business) that doesn’t mean they will actually follow through with queer eddie or that any other potential love interest for buck will be in any way narratively satisfying. i’m not saying i’m closing on buddie, because i will love them and ship them together when my body is six feet under, but after the burning dumpster that was s7 post the cruise ship arc, i don’t have the faith in tim that i had before.

at the end of the day, yes abc is a more accepting and inclusive studio, but it is still that: a studio. a corporation. a money maker. they don’t actually give a fuck about the fans. i have seen time and time again that these shows do this cat and mouse shit with a queer ship and then never follow through, even if one of the characters involved does end up being confirmed queer. maybe it was a little harsh to say that tim is only interested in money, but after how little thought and care he put into last season it’s hard not to feel like he actually cares about the fans who have stuck with this show since the beginning.

i’ve mentioned before that i have stuck with this show for seven years. i have shipped buddie since s2. i witnessed the s4 buildup and subsequent letdown in s5 and 6. I know that was not tim’s fault specifically, that KR and Fox both fucked the show over

but that does not mean that tim won’t also change his mind— we saw evidence of that last minute with all the rewrites that were happening post mid season hiatus with s7. he found out he’s getting another season so he changed the plot of 7b, and if they get a season 9, all the more reason to keep dragging the buddie bait hype along with now true intentions to follow through?

i reslly really reallly wanted to trust tim again especially after the potential he had with the shooting arc in s4, but sometimes it feels like he himself has closed on buddie since then unless it’s done as a last-ditch effort to save the show… again, i’m not saying i think bt is going to be endgame, but just because they aren’t endgame doesn’t mean buddie is and that is what pisses me off. that we will have been waiting for nearly a decade for this ship to go canon, we will have gone through so much hate and vitriol from the bt stans, we have been teased and built up time and time again (even in s7), we have been bait and switched with no satisfactory outcome, and we have been laughed at the entire time, and there is a possibility that none of it will actually pay off, all because some white man gets to call the shots and he’s shown that all he cares about is melodrama and trolling people online to stir up shit.

anyway, i didn’t mean to hijack this post, anon, but i wnated to further expound upon what exactly my point was in my original post, which was not that i believed Bree’s delusions or that the helicopter pilot is buck’s endgame, but that i won’t trust tim to actually go through with anything promising until i start to see actual concrete irrefutable evidence of it.

[hogwarts-legacy-confessions]

Hello! One of the more prominent fandom writers here.

I see this has already been addressed. I don’t come to flog a dead horse and I do not intend to be rude to you, the blog owner.

I want to offer some perspective from someone who has been impacted by this.

I am not offended that you’re unaware of every targeted statement submitted to this blog. I am not either. The issue lies in your apparent expectation to be told if a statement was too pointed. You have—as respectfully as I can say it—not cultivated an environment that appears welcoming for something as vulnerable as feelings.

When things have been posted about my work, I did not anticipate coming to you would make much difference. If anything, I assumed it would make it worse.

I would say the impact it’s had on me is inline with the recent posts, and the fact that there are other posts of this nature makes me wonder how many other larger creators are suffering in silence every time someone pokes at them on here.

Here’s the thing: those of us who’ve “just been around since the start” and “got lucky” have been through multiple waves of bullying. For ships, for our ages, for character ages, for characterization, for writing smut/tropes/dynamics, for not liking or portraying (insert character) as a (edgelord, golden retriever, himbo, et cetera).

Now, we can add to that:

- not replying to every comment on our works and art.

- Not performing enough exhaustive research for something we do in our spare time, free of charge—despite both the canon game and the books/films contradicting themselves constantly.

- Liking characters that we like.

- Not editing enough, as if that is not delegated to a separate career in the professional world.

- Generally, not doing /enough/ to have earned our place in the fandom.

I won’t include the criticisms that were specific to me. I’m aware this is anonymous and you have no reason to believe I am who I say, but I won’t risk stepping off anon and receiving hate atop the rest of that list.

I am just a person. This was an escape for me, and one that gave me a lot of purpose and fulfillment. All of which is gone now. This has completely wrecked my self confidence in writing.

These big, popular creators that are getting bashed are not celebrities. Be it roleplayers, artists, writers, mod creators, or edit makers—they’re just people who wanted community and creative outlet.

To the blog owner, I see you have said that you wonder if the posts were really about [those who assume it’s about them]. I think the nature of the space you’ve created begets paranoia. Even if the posts were not about me or anyone else, does it not warrant your concern if it hurts the fandom we share? I respect the need for a space where unpopular ships, headcanons, and the like can be posted without fear (which shouldn’t exist, this is the nature of fandom). I do not see the need to laugh namelessly at the accuracy of fanart, the kissing mod that people created, proper grammar, and incorrect geographical locations in fics to name a few recent ones.

I don’t believe in censorship. I also don’t believe in encouraging persecution.

I see you have addressed this, as I said. I do not expect you to delete your blog. I hope you have found community regardless of the vitriol here. If I can offer a suggestion going forward: I ask that you don’t allow hate on fanworks. If you can’t do that, then at least do not allow anonymous hate on other creators, even if they do not mention them by name. If people want to say it with their full chests, off anon, I would respect it much more. That would also remove your need to judge the validity of any claims.

If this is published—I want to say that if this is your first fandom (which I suspect is true for many of you) that this is not a game of ‘eat the rich’.

If you had been “early” and “got lucky” and if people said the things you have said about our works, would yours still be available?

Most every popular creator in this fandom only ever wanted to be friends with you, reader.

👀

[princelylove]

How about I make you some tea and biscuit, your highness? ☕ 🍪 I hope it will please you while you help me answer my wondering about this.

I read your work "The Father" that analyze about Bruno. There is a small detail about Narancia get closer to darling. It's maybe not important the reason why, but I just thinking, what if the reason is Narancia fall in love with Bruno's darling. How Bruno react if Narancia (or any other members) fall in love with his darling?

~ 🏵️ anon ~

You know, I’m not really a tea person, or hot drinks in general. I do like one or two kinds, but I don’t have it frequently. I can bear the cold with my cold drink. 

Ohhh, that would be……… bad. Bruno’s the possessive type, even if he tries to hide it. “Man With An Open Heart” and “Model Man” by King Crimson are, ironically, very Bruno songs. Here’s the entire Bucciarati team falling for Bruno’s darling, as a treat. You’ve been good. Hopefully this makes sense, I've been a bit busy lately.

Poor Pannacotta. He’d probably never mention it, but there would be signs. It’s incredibly weird to fall in love with your father’s almost-spouse, but it’s worse to actually make a move on them. Pannacotta isn’t going to ruin his chances at having a safe home- if Bruno suddenly hates him, he loses the one place he feels safe, and probably goes back on the streets. He’s not risking it. But it’s obvious, he’s difficult to handle at the best of times, but treats you oh-so-delicately. You broke something? That’s fine, annoying, but fine. You don’t have any glass in your hands, do you? Ok. Leave, he’ll clean this up. Bruno wants Pannacotta to love you, of course, but not in a romantic way. He’s delusional enough to just tell himself that Pannacotta doesn’t view you as part of the family yet, and that’s why this.. problem has made its home in his perfect happy family. Really, Pannacotta never viewed you as family, more like a random stranger forced to live in his father’s house, but Bruno never has to know.

Naranica is in the same position as Pannacotta, but he has a little more wiggle room. I’m not your son, I just live here! (< desperately wants to be a family with Bruno, ignoring the weird implications). Bruno’s still fairly upset, but he���s not as quick to anger with Narancia- Bruno often forgets that Pannacotta is actually his youngest, since he’s spent more time with him. Narancia’s actually the most vocal, he makes extremely inappropriate comments when you’re here, and when you leave. It’s not uncommon for Narancia to drop a “Is that babe you keep hanging out with coming over today?" or a "Damn..." when you bend over. Bruno scolds him the usual way- through smacking him as hard as he can. He'll knock it off eventually, hopefully.

I do not think that Giorno actually likes Bruno, to be honest with you. He views him more as a… coworker, really. “Man who I happen to be betraying the boss with.” Absolutely no emotional attachment. Bruno is the opposite- he views Giorno as somewhat of a friend, never mind the age difference. Bruno is fond of Giorno, Giorno is the only one who has seen Bruno in a real state of vulnerability lately, so he thinks they have something- he thinks wrong. Giorno will play along, he doesn’t mind playing the long game, but he won’t play pretend forever. Bruno feels betrayed when Giorno makes his move- unless, of course, he’s dead. Then he can’t do much thinking at all, can he?

Guido is not about to cuck the man that bailed him out of a multiple decade sentencing, but looking is free. If you can’t handle someone checking out your partner, you’re probably insecure. Checking you out isn’t a crime, plenty of people do it in a non-invasive way. It’s natural for a human being to acknowledge another as attractive. Guido’s fine with settling if you really do love Bruno- or if he thinks you love Bruno- so he won’t compete, but he’s not going to abandon his spot as #2. Bruno’s not the happiest about Guido trying to get into your life- you already have a family, but… he supposes it can be a little bigger. As long as he doesn’t try to touch you too much. (He will.)

Spare Leone the guilt, he can barely find it in himself to speak to Bruno, this can’t be happening. He’ll just shut up and let the feeling pass, or cope about it later. Until he sees the way you smile at him, whether it be genuine or not, and he just melts on the spot. A little crush is fine, as long as he doesn’t… say anything about it… to the man that saved him… Bruno has mixed feelings, on one hand, he really trusted Leone to watch you, and that is now ruined. On the other hand, it’s great that Leone is feeling emotions again and getting out of his slump! It’s just a shame he’s going for someone who is already spoken for.

[caspersickfanfics]

For @monthofsick day 11: Totally drained/Exhausted

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, panic, trauma/trauma response, ptsd, passive self harm in the form of deliberately not caring for one's body

This went a bit off script - I apologize if it's not what you were looking for, anon, but I really hope you enjoy it anyway!

Anon asked:

I know that someone recently requested a sick Cyno one so I fully if this wouldn’t fit, but I was thinking about a cynari one with sick Cyno for the prompt totally drained/exhausted? Maybe Cyno has come back from a long job, and is just worn out from it all, that his stomach is rejecting food or maybe got poisoned or something. His stomach is just…so upset and Tighnari won’t allow him to simply “power through”

Cyno stumbles up to Tighnari’s home in the middle of the day. He’s not surprised that the forest watcher is out; he’s often quite busy with his duties, and he takes his job seriously. 

Any other day, Cyno would join him and offer his assistance. Just this once, though, he sits just outside of the small hut, and trembles. It’s a bit torturous right now, to be still. Every so often, he gets up and paces, in spite of his aching muscles and tired body. Cyno scouts the area for danger once, twice, too many times to track. He is annoyed with himself and with his body, impatient to see Tighnari and more overwhelmed with each shallow breath. As much as he hates to admit it, Cyno is aware that in his current state, he would only be a distraction - or worse, a burden.

Tighnari finds him there, hours after his arrival. It’s dark enough that, even squinting, it’s hard to make out Cyno’s face. Though his posture relaxes somewhat at the forest watcher’s presence, something still something seems off. Tighnari ushers him inside for a better look.

The lamps illuminate a sorry state that the setting sun did not: Cyno is visibly exhausted. The bags under his eyes could just as easily be bruises. They’re so dark that it compels Tighnari to touch them, only for Cyno to violently flinch away. 

They both freeze. Tighnari blinks. That’s never happened before. In the privacy of their home in Gandharva Ville, Cyno has always basked in physical contact, seeming to need it as he does air. Now, he pulls away further, eyes wide, and trembles harder. His shoulders bunch up by his ears. When an ashamed apology slips from Cyno’s lips, it makes Tighnari’s breath catch. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says, pulling gloved hands behind his back. “It was my bad. I’ll brew us some tea.”

Cyno nods absently. He’s barely listening, Tighnari can tell. Hopefully the tea will help. Even the quiet pop of the stove clicking to life makes the matra jump.

“I’m just tired,” Cyno says, uncharacteristically defensive. “You were out for so long today.” Tighnari nods placatingly and stays thoughtfully silent as he waits for the tea to brew.

Once it’s ready, Tighnari moves slowly, and says Cyno’s name quietly to get his attention. He still startles, but accepts the mug with both hands and a quiet thanks.

The matra stays standing while they drink their tea. It’s painful to watch. His legs look too shaky to hold him on, the lines of his face drawn and tense at the effort. Tighnari should probably ask him when he last slept. He doesn’t. Instead:

“Did you wait long when you got here?”

Cyno shrugs and avoids his eyes, telling Tighnari everything he needs to know.

“You silly man,” Tighnari huffs. “Why didn’t you go in and rest?”

He doesn’t get much of a response. Another shrug. They finish their drinks in silence, Tighnari’s eyes traversing Cyno’s body, calculating and evaluating his needs. There’s a flush across his cheeks, and Tighnari wonders if he’s managed to catch a cold. It’s an unusual event, considering Cyno’s healthy constitution, but lack of sleep could certainly have made him more susceptible. 

Fortunately, the tea seems to be doing its job. Cyno’s eyelids droop, some of the tension in his muscles fading away. He doesn’t protest when Tighnari asserts that they’ll do the dishes in the morning. It’s unnatural, keeping his distance, but Tighnari is careful to give the other man his space as they transition to the bedroom.

Once they’re under the covers, Cyno speaks quietly. “Nari. You can touch me. I’m not– I’m not afraid of you.”

His breath is still coming in short, erratic huffs, making Tighnari hesitate. He hums softly, so Cyno knows he’s heard, and turns to face him. Cyno is turned away, and Tighnari aches to hug him, can guess that’s what Cyno would like as well, but then he sees a shiver run through him. He has to make sure.

“What do you want?”

The answer comes quick, with an edge of desperation. “Little spoon. Please.”

Tighnari is all too happy to comply. Never to this extent, but it has happened in then past that, after a particularly taxing job, Cyno needs some help with calming down. This part is familiar to Tighnari. He curls around his partner, chest pressed to back. His hand comes to rest over Cyno’s heart, and he can feel it pounding relentlessly.

“Tachycardia,” Tighnari mumbles, counting each beat. Definitely too fast, but not enough to require a trip to the Bimarstan. Not yet, at least. “For how long?”

Cyno makes a noise that sounds both pleading and irritated. “It’s okay, Nari. Just need to sleep.”

There’s little Tighnari can do at this point, so he lets it go. He snuggles in, pressing his nose against Cyno’s nape and clutching him tighter. He forces himself to stay awake; sheer willpower has him blinking his eyes open multiple times until he feels Cyno’s heart calm and his breathing even out. He presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs, finally allowing himself to drift off as well.

–––

Cyno’s mind is not kind to him. He had hoped that Tighnari’s presence would calm his nerves, and it did, but only temporarily. He still wakes no more than 2 hours later with tears on his cheeks and a conviction that he’d done something horrific. He checks Tighnari over for injuries in a haze, his head pounding and stomach swirling. It’s fear, though he hates to admit it.

He wishes he couldn’t remember the last time he was this tired, but he can. He was about 12. Back then, he was…

Cyno bites his cheek, hard. He pushes the thoughts from his mind. If there was a time when he was a monster, then so be it. If the monster still resides with in him, then he will simply refuse to let it rise up again.

Though his brain is ready to move, his body is not. Cyno turns slowly out of Tighnari’s grip so as to avoid waking him with his once again racing heart. He’d like to prevent further questions about that. He doesn’t want to confess that it’s been like this for days. 

It truly is a relief to have gotten some rest. Tighnari has a uniquely calming presence on him, and for a while, it’s bearable to just lay there. Cyno tries to manage his breathing, tries to keep his mind blank or thinking about the forest watcher beside him. It works, until it doesn’t.

He hoists himself up with great effort, reassured when the pain shooting through his muscles brings clarity to his mind.

Then, he keeps himself occupied.

First it’s tidying the hut. Just little things, here and there - nothing that would be loud enough to wake a sleeping fox. Once he’s done as much as he can, Cyno slips outside. It’s dark, with only the moon and stars brightening the sky, but he’s long since learned to navigate without relying on light.

He finds a peaceful field nearby and trains his body, a familiar routine that is frustratingly more difficult than normal, until the sun starts to rise and the town starts to wake. His body aches. His head pounds. Cyno wanders the village and helps the older folks who rise early with their morning chores, and then he helps the older folks who slept in with theirs. One of them asks if he’s alright, and Cyno blames his wilting appearance on the forest’s humidity.

It’s still early when he returns to the hut. He plans to make breakfast in exchange for Tighnari’s hospitality, but the forest watcher is waiting for him in the doorway. From a distance, he looks annoyed. As Cyno draws closer, his expression changes to one of disbelief.

“Oh, archons,” Tighnari breathes, looking at him like he’s seen a ghost. When Cyno tries to look back, there are suddenly three Tighnari’s in front of him. Hm. That can’t be good.

“Cyno, sit down.” He sounds distinctly exasperated, “Do you even know what you look like right now?”

“Probably like a very strong, intelligent, and admirable human,” Cyno quips. 

Tighnari glares, ignoring the joke entirely. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Yes,” Cyno says, and perhaps he responded too quickly, because Tighnari’s eyes narrow keenly.

“How long?” It’s a demand more than it is a question. Cyno can’t help but hesitate. He knows Tighnari sees right through him, but suddenly his brain just isn’t working right.

“Don’t worry, Nari,” he mumbles. He tries to think of something reassuring. “I’m fine. I’ve been helping the villagers all morning.”

The concern in Tighnari’s face morphs into something more akin to horror. He shakes his head. “Get in bed.”

“I’m going back to work in a few hours.”

“You’re hilarious. Bed. Now.”

“At least let me make you breakfast.”

“Absolutely not.” Tighnari has been working himself up into a fury, and it’s alright - this is how Tighnari responds to worry. But then his face falls. Utter devastation mars his delicate features. Cyno trembles. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Tighnari, bravely, forges on.

“Do you– do you know that you’re hurting yourself right now?”

Cyno flinches away. Something aches, more than his muscles, deep in his soul. It swirls his stomach. He wants to sleep. He wants to relax. He wants Tighnari to smile and lie around in bed with him all day.

He cannot let Tighnari get hurt.

Unbidden, the vision from Cyno’s nightmares is superimposed on top of the forest watcher before him. It’s gone in an instant, but the damage has been done. Heat washes over his body and tremors run violently through him. Tighnari’s eyes widen, and then he disappears from Cyno’s vision. 

The matra manages a choked noise of protest. He wants to follow, but his feet are held frozen in place by an overpowering wave of nausea. He doubles over, retching, and Tighnari reappears, bucket in hand. Cyno grasps at it. He coughs uncontrollably until hot, burning liquid shoots into the container, a revolting splatter against plastic. There’s just barely time for a moan before he’s being sick again, choking on a few chunks of undigested food until they’re carried forward by another gush of puke.

“That’s it. You’re okay.” Tighnari’s voice is thready and strained. “You’re safe.”

He certainly doesn’t feel it. Cyno would’ve liked to remain standing, but his legs give out. Tighnari catches him by the waist and guides him to the floor as Cyno continues gagging and heaving. His head feels heavy, ballooning bigger and bigger with each heave, and the ground is shaking beneath him. There’s a moment of relief when Tighnari’s cool hand finds his forehead, but then it draws away with a curse.

“I shouldn’t have let you go out this morning,” Tighnari mumbles. As if it’s his fault. Cyno’s stomach squeezes, wringing itself out all the more forcefully and emptying into the bin.

He doesn’t remember leaning into Tighnari, but when the retching comes to a stop, Cyno realizes that he’s practically in his lap. Queasy tremors continue to run through him, but his heart is finally slowing. Tighnari holds him without complaint. He gives him time to catch his breath, waits as he burps again and again, bringing up a few more pathetic streams of bile, catches him a second time when Cyno slumps against him.

“Did you know you had a fever?” Tighnari asks eventually. Cyno just shakes his head. He’s spent, 100%. He doesn’t move when Tighnari’s hand falls over his heart.

“It seems… better. How are you feeling?”

It takes a moment to find words again, but Tighnari waits. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Nari,” he croaks. “I just can’t–” He squeezes his eyes shut, awful memories on the edge of his vision again. Tighnari hums.

“Tell me, Cyno. You can’t keep bottling it up.”

He’s right. Cyno knows it. And Tighnari knows about his past, he’s fine with it. Still. There’s a difference between knowing his monstrous history and finding out that he still carries the beast with him. That it’s with them, ready to attack, every night in bed. That Cyno can’t guarantee it won’t get out in the moment when he’s weakest. When he’s tired. When he’s sick. Cyno whimpers. He doesn’t know how to tell Tighnari this, and he doesn’t know if he should.

“You’re scared of something,” Tighnari whispers knowingly. “That’s okay. I’m scared of things, too.”

Yes, Cyno thinks, but not of me.

The thought has him lurching for the bucket again. His throat grates as he heaves, repeatedly, until he manages to weakly cough up a few splashes of bile. He’s so exhausted. And Tighnari is so sweet. It pains him, but Tighnari deserves to know. Cyno wipes an arm across his mouth.

“I could hurt you.” His voice sounds small even in his own ears. He knows Tighnari heard. He must have. And yet, when there’s no big reaction, when he doesn’t jump away or even tense up, Cyno second-guesses. “Did you hear me, Tighnari? I said–”

Tighnari snorts. As if he’s laughing. Defiance flares and Cyno’s fists ball up. When he speaks, Tighnari sounds entirely unfazed. “I heard you. You have seen my ears before, Cyno, haven’t you?”

Cyno squirms, irritated and planning to remove himself from Tighnari’s lap until a hand presses down firmly on his chest. “I heard you, Cyno,” Tighnari tries again, his voice serious, now. “And I don’t mean to dismiss your concerns, but really. I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” Cyno says darkly, but Tighnari is shaking his head before he finishes speaking. 

“I know what childhood was like for you. I know it was difficult, and painful, and scary, and that you think you hurt people. But I also know it wasn’t your fault. You were a child.”

“I’m a monster.” The words slip out and send a clawing fear up Cyno’s throat. Tighnari holds him tighter, and nothing else happens. Tears flood Cyno’s eyes. “Tighnari, I– I’m a–”

“No,” Tighnari says firmly. “You are not. I trust you. The villagers trust you. Collei, who trusts few others, trusts you. Sumeru trusts you.”

Cyno wants to protest. They’ve all made a mistake. They shouldn’t. They don’t know what could happen, the risk–

“Please, Cyno, trust our judgement, for once. Just a little bit. Just for today.”

And it’s… Not a fix. It doesn’t obliterate Cyno’s fears, doesn’t make him feel wholly human. But something fizzles out, like a balloon deflating through a single pinprick. Cyno does not give his trust out easily, but for nearly as long as they’ve known each other, Tighnari has held it gently in clawed hands, never so much as threatening to scratch it.

Perhaps he’s simply too tired to maintain the tension that’s kept him awake for so long, and it will be just as bad tomorrow, but Cyno doesn’t think so. Dazed, but hopeful, for the first time in nearly half a week, Cyno nods. Tighnari smiles, and Cyno can breathe a little freer.

“Okay,” says the keeper of Cyno’s trust. He stands and takes Cyno up with him, cradled in his arms. Safe. Almost whole. It’s good enough, at least for now. “Let’s get you back to bed, then. When you wake, we’ll play a game of cards, if you want.”

Cyno mumbles something unintelligible into Tighnari's chest and falls into a deep and peaceful sleep.

–––

Send asks here!

[tabithatwo]

jackie is a mean girl and i don’t get why people defend her nasty ass. girls like her who think they’re pretty so they can do anything piss me off then they all jump in to defend each other for shitty behavior. watching you do that tells me exactly who you are.

WOW! What a thing to say to a stranger!!

The bigger person in me would probably say clearly you’re hurting and that’s making you decide to be just awful and I hope you heal BUT I had a killer month so she’s actually not home today and instead you get my honest reaction, which is probably fine since you sure gave me your unfiltered opinion!!

Jackie isn’t a mean girl. It’s not even a matter of opinion, it’s a matter of who can pay attention to a fucking show and who cannot pay attention to a show and dives into their own stereotypes and throws them around and covers the text with their own bullshit.

You can have a LOT of different views on Jackie (and any other character!) and they can fall into the purview of differing interpretation (I have a lot of specific reads on her character that I know are not popular opinion and I don’t think people are wrong for disagreeing with!), but I’m sick of pretending like this black and white, jackie is an uncaring cruel mean bitch line of thinking is a valid opinion. It’s just fucking not, like you’re just making shit up at this point. And that’s okay! View media however you want! If you want to imagine that Jackie is a mean girl then that’s your right!

But to come into peoples asks and onto their pages and just spew shit like this is suuuuuch bullshit. And I’ve hesitated to straight up tell people they’re wrong before because that really isn’t my style, but you know what? This was fucking mean and WEIRDLY personal and I’m tired, so you come to me with this shit from now on and I will simply tell you that you are fucking wrong and you have really fucking bad media literacy <3

(If you have these opinions on your OWN BLOG AND NOT IN MY ASKS WHILE YOU COME FOR ME PERSONALLY IN THE SAME BREATH I will see it and think damn I couldn’t disagree more, but I won’t comment on it like that because it’s YOUR SHIT, does this make sense to everyone, do we see the distinction?)

Anyway, you don’t know shit about me. And I don’t know shit about you but since we’re making assumptions here, maybe you were treated poorly by someone and you can’t stop labeling other girls and women unfairly based on that experience, but tbh the way that you are so locked onto hating this teenage girl character and so willing to tell me that you know “exactly who I am” and imply that I’m a “nasty ass mean girl with shitty behavior” really leads me to believe that whoever you are projecting onto Jackie might not have even been mean to you! because you seem to be pretty damn comfortable being the mean one yourself!

Anyway to anyone who is reading this, please don’t do this to people! I know it’s just the internet, I know people can turn off anon asks, I know I know. But also? Sometimes people are having really bad days and something like this would really fuck with them and we are all capable of NOT doing this shit! It’s actually sooo easy to not be an asshole in someone’s messages <3 and if someone has sent you shit like this, just know that it says literally nothing about you and everything about the person saying it, so try your best to just brush it off and carry on! <3 <3 <3