#I’ve tried so hard to work on any of my drabbles all day and there has just been a wall

[collectivecloseness]

One thing is, if you had really bad executive dysfunction (like with depression, ADHD, etc) then not only would the fruity four take such good care of you, but they’d also make sure you never felt bad about it.

Anything you need help with, one of them is already extending a helping hand. If something’s going on, and there’s a reason it’s worse atm, they’re all sitting down to make sure whatever’s bothering you is fixed. And they know sometimes it just happens, there’s no reason behind it, and they won’t get mad at you for falling behind, even if you’re scared they will be. Once you explain about your ed, they really try their best to be understanding, I think some of them have even experienced it too (definitely Eddie has).

You’re their number one priority. So they’ll either lift you up and go help you do the thing you need, or they’ll take care of it for you if they can so you’re not stressing. They get in a semi-bad habit of doing the things themselves, because they don’t want you to feel bad or worry, and they want to help! Even if sometimes they know they should let you do it yourself, just with their help, they can’t help taking care of things for you! They’re doing it for you before they can even think about it. Or they’ll even tell you how it’s not important, and nothing to even worry about doing at all.

They just try to make sure you know that they could never think any less of you for what, struggling with an actual neurological issue, that already makes you feel bad for not being able to deal with it in the first place? They couldn’t do that to you. Their number one priority is just making sure you’re looked after, you’re loved, and you fully know it.

[kierahn]

yandere ! ceo x stripper ! male reader for @rin-sama-writes.

[ nsfw, minors dni. ]

hi, i read your ideas in my inbox and i just had to make a quick drabble about it :] i’ll be making a full one some other time though since i still have 3 prompts to work on. (also, i accidentally published your previous ask before i got to complete the draft, so it got deleted. i’m so sorry,, 🥹🙏)

this is more of a power bottom reader, but i'll do a couple of dom readers soon. this just is a small warm up lol.

× cero had a long and tiring day of filling up paper works, organizing documents, attending several meetings, and the likes; usual CEO stuff. so to reward himself for a job well done, he decides to ask his driver to drive him to your workplace after work. he deserved a treat or two from you.

× the moment he stepped foot inside the nightclub you worked at, it was like a message had been sent to all the present employees. everyone scurried away the moment cero blessed the room with his presence, rushing to prepare the v.i.p room that he had built specifically for you and him to have some fun alone; away from prying eyes. no one deserved to see you in that blissed out state but him.

× the performers that you worked with on stage stopped to inform you that a client had requested your presence in the v.i.p room.

× it was him again, the man whose name you learned was cero, dressed in designer clothes from head to toe and a branded watch around his wrist. everything about him screamed rich which made him an immediate target for you. it was so easy to have guys like him all hooked up on you like some moth drawn to a flame.

× usually, cero would tease you or whistle upon seeing you enter the room, but he was strangely silent tonight.

× you approach the leather couch where he was seated and noticed how his usually neat appearance seem to be absent today. his hair was slightly a mess and his tie was crooked. he looked tired overall.

× normally, you wouldn’t care much about his wellbeing. however, you couldn’t help but notice how cero didn’t seem to be performing his best today. his thrusts were sloppy and he wasn’t hitting the right spots for you to feel good. even prepping you was a major fail ! you ended up scratching his back when he tried to put himself inside, expressing your discomfort.

× with a sigh, you stop him. “i think i’ve seen enough,” you say exasperatingly, detaching yourself from him. his grip on your waist seem to tighten, a conflicted look on the ceo’s face. he almost looked like a kicked puppy.

× he tried to protest, but you stop him by holding up a finger to his lips. “look, sir, i can see that you’re tired.” you trail your hand to cup cero’s cheek and glaze your thumb under his eye. you stayed seated on his lap, cero’s tired eyes gazing up at your own.

× “i’m fine. i’ll manage, i just need you right now.” cero stubbornly protested, a slight rasp in his voice. his hands trailed down your waist to resume what you two were previously engaged in, but you grab his wrists gently. “say.. how about i do all the work tonight ?” you insisted.

× it wasn’t like you were worried about him, you simply couldn’t handle any more of his sloppy attempt to pleasure you.

× you left no room for an argument. you shut down his protests about how he possibly couldn’t let you do that, or how he had been doing just fine doing the work. maybe in a normal night he would be good at it, but not tonight.

× you got off his lap and positioned yourself in between his thighs. no doubt, he was still rock hard and raging due to your interruption, but cero still kept trying to insist that you didn’t have to.

× when he tried to grab a fistful of your hair to stop you, you grab his wrist first, sending him a look of warning. he really needed to keep his hands to himself.

× just as the thought crossed your mind, your gaze wandered over to his crooked tie. ‘that could work.’

× without explaining any further, your hands worked to undo cero’s tie. he didn’t seem to have any violent reaction towards it, so you assumed that he was fine with you doing so.

x as soon as you finished removing his tie, you held his wrist together and tightly tied them up together with his expensive tie, much to his surprise.

x “for now, i’ll do all the touching.” you say with an edge to your tone, meaning that what you said was absolute. “if you try to touch me even once, you’ll have to forget about getting what you want.”

× cero furrowed his brows at your words. were you ordering him around ?

× but before he could express a single word of protest, a jolt of his thigh caught him off guard. he bit his lower lip to suppress the lewd sounds that threatened to escape his lips.

× your tongue wrapped around his tip sent him into overdrive. he immediately hardened inside your mouth, a small groan escaping his lips.

× “wai..t, y/n– ngh!” his muscles tensed when you started to move. holy shit. it was as if all his stress melted away.

× it was a foreign feeling for cero to feel so stripped of his control over his own release. it was all in your hands now.. or well, mouth.

x as soon as you got a hold of his whole length in your mouth and you assured that there would be no gag reflex holding you back, that was when you went all in. cero’s ragged breathing and low moans filled the spacious room, along with the sound of your muffled groans.

x it took him a lot of willpower to hold back from forcing you down on his cock and hitting the back of your throat, but he knew that he couldn’t touch you. damned tie.

x cero threw his head back, cold sweat dripping from his forehead as his fingers twitched and itched to lay a hand on you. a quiet whimper escaped from the ceo’s lips when you slowed down to tease him a little.

x when you looked up at him, you were met with cero’s eyes that held a hint of pleading. a plead for relief perhaps. it was quite a new sight, but not an unwelcome one. you were so used to seeing him act so prideful about making you feel good, seeing him in this state wasn’t so bad.

x a slight chuckle. the vibration from your mouth was, surprisingly, enough to make the ceo finish inside your mouth. you slowly pull out, his load staining the inside of your mouth and your tongue white.

x who knew he was this sensitive. you avert your gaze to study cero’s aftermath. his hair clung to his skin that glistened with sweat, eyes clouded with bliss, and he panted heavily like some dog in heat.

x you couldn’t help but smile in mischief at the realization that you could put a powerful man like him in such a state.

[withleeknow]

Helloooo! I’ve never done a request before so I hope this comes off okay :)

I love the song “flower line” by om shankar, it makes me smile every time. So, I was wondering if you could do a drabble based that.

If not, maybe the prompt: “real smooth, tripping over air”

If you take this request, thank you so much but if not I completely understand 🫶

call it what you want.

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader genre/warnings: strangers to lovers, college au, fluff; some light cursing, very unedited i am half asleep rn lol, italics indicate flashbacks word count: 1.4k note: hi anon! thank you for the request hehehhee. i decided to go with the prompt and also you didn't specify a member so i went with hyunjin, i hope that's okay :) happy reading <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

"real smooth, tripping over air."

hyunjin came back to the table and set down two coffees, the content of seungmin's plastic cup spilling over the rim just a little bit when hyunjin pushed the beverage toward him rather aggressively.

"shut up," hyunjin grumbled, covering his face with his hands as he wallowed in his misery. "literally shut the fuck up."

it was burnt into hyunjin's subconscious, the feeling of utter embarrassment when he had quite literally scrambled to stand up after you called out his order number and stumbled as he made his way over to the counter.

this was the fifth time that seungmin had been dragged to the campus cafe where you worked part-time as a barista, just to provide emotional support while hyunjin tried not to chicken out of chatting you up. every time, hyunjin swore today's the day, and every time, he went home with his tail between his legs and a brain that was wiped clean the very second you smiled at him.

seungmin only laughed despite losing a few drops of his coffee to hyunjin's dramatic ass. it was entertaining to see his friend like this, panties all twisted in a bunch over a crush on a cute girl whose number he couldn't even muster up the courage to ask for.

"you're such a pussy," seungmin tutted, shaking his head in disapproving amusement and taking a sip of americano as he looked at hyunjin who seemed like he could have a mental breakdown if even a gust of wind were to breeze past him right now. "it's not like you've never asked for a girl's number before. just do it."

"do you want to broadcast my shame to everyone here? keep your loud ass voice down." hyunjin removed his hands from his face and hunched forward to scold his friend in a half-whisper, even though the cafe was busy that day and it was almost impossible for you to hear him from all the way in the corner and over the lively chatter of the other students filtering in and out of the place. "you don't know what it's like. she might be the prettiest girl i've seen in my entire life. i go stupid every time i look at her."

"to be fair, you go stupid pretty often," seungmin said, which only earned him another murderous glare from across the table. "for real, why am i wasting my time here with you if you're just not gonna do anything? you're not even paying for my coffee. i could be in my room sleeping and saving money right now."

a pathetic whine slipped from hyunjin's lips before he sneaks a glance in your direction, where you were focused on writing down some guy's order by the register. "i don't know what to say!" he groaned, "it's so hard. ughhh."

he remembered the first time he saw you, and it wasn't in this cafe. it was at some lame party that he was forced to attend, where the drinks were shitty and the music was even shittier. he was sipping on cheap beer when he spotted you talking to another girl in the corner of the room, both of whom he'd never seen on campus before. what caught his attention was your easygoing smile and how your mere presence just seemed to pull him in despite the roomful of people separating you. he couldn't look away, and as if you could sense his stare on you, you'd turned your head and met his eyes. you'd sent that same charming smile his way, and hyunjin was enamored for the rest of that evening.

he lost sight of you soon after though, and none of his friends knew who you were. that was that; you were a pretty girl that he saw at a party once, whose name he didn't even know but whose smile he had memorized.

then three weeks later, as though the universe had given him a second chance, he saw you again when he came to the cafe for a quick bite before class. you'd smiled at him the same way you did at the party, and he was tongue tied.

fast forward another month and here he was, with his head in his hands as he agonized for the nth time over what to say to you other than "hi," "one iced americano please," and "thanks."

"just tell her you think she's cute and you'd like her number," seungmin said. "it literally doesn't get more straightforward than that. the worst thing she can say is no."

this was how their last four visits to the cafe went, the conversation always ending with hyunjin neglecting his friend's advice in favor of sneaky glances and a mouth shut tight when he failed to hype himself up enough to utter a few words to you.

"if you don't do it today, you're on your own," seungmin told him when he was only met with silence from hyunjin's end. "i'm not coming back with you again. the coffee isn't even good."

"wait, come on, dude. just... wait. i need to think."

"stop thinking. nothing in that brain of yours is going to help."

"hey!"

"are you gonna do it or not?"

"hold on, i need a plan."

seungmin rolled his eyes before he downed the remaining few sips of his coffee. "you know what? if you don't ask for her number, maybe i'll just do it myself." then he was already coolly standing up and heading in your direction without even looking to see if hyunjin heard him correctly.

"seungmin!" hyunjin called, hurriedly gathering his phone and wallet and scrambling to catch up with his friend in a panic. they both stopped in front of the register, where it was thankfully empty now and no one nearby had to watch hyunjin burn himself to a crisp with embarrassment.

"how can i help you?" you asked, looking at them curiously when hyunjin's eyes flit between you and seungmin in a panic.

"uhm... i.... uh..."

"this is hyunjin." seungmin was the coherent one between the two of them as he clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder with a sly grin. "he thinks you're cute and wants to get your number."

"the end," hyunjin says flatly. "the rest was history. you were there, you know what happened."

"come on, please?" you pout, tugging on his arm as you lean closer to nudge your nose against his cheek. "i've only ever heard it from seungmin and he doesn't tell it like you do."

he glances at you from the side. "what do you want me to tell you? that in that moment i considered running out the door and not stopping until i found the nearest ditch to fall into?"

you laugh, all light and airy and it still makes hyunjin as smitten as he was that afternoon in the cafe. "no, the other part."

"the part where i actually did kinda try to run away and bumped into someone and spilled coffee all over myself? and you had to take me to the backroom to let me borrow someone's shirt?"

this draws another giggle out of you as you recall the moment, when you had been so endeared by him that it was hard to let him go home afterward without your number saved in his phone. "yeah," you say, utter fondness dripping from your voice. "that part."

"that was the most embarrassing day of my life. i made a complete fool of myself."

"you were adorable. it's my core memory of you."

"i'm glad you found my humiliation entertaining."

you roll your eyes half-heartedly before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek to appease his faux sulk. "we wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for your dramatic overthinking ass that day, would we? unless... you'd rather take it all back."

hyunjin softens in an instance, huffing out a breath as he mumbles bashfully, "i didn't say that..."

"you big baby," you tell him with your lips still ghosting the side of his face. you're so close like this, so tightly pressed up against each other on your couch that you can feel the warmth of his body and the thumps of his heart when you slide your hand over his chest. you give him another peck on the cheek, then you smile against his skin. "happy six-month anniversary."

there's a light blush that rises from his neck until it covers his face in the most beautiful rosy shade. a shy grin, his eyes turning into little crescent moons from the happiness that spreads from his head down to his toes, then hyunjin is smoothly turning over so he could pin you underneath him, where he presses his lips against yours so your smiles could meet.

"happy six months, baby."

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.05.2024]

[askinkiskarma]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀: 𝕎𝕙𝕪 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔾𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕒 𝔹𝕖 𝕊𝕠 𝕍𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: you and Neteyam are the two prodigies of the Omaticaya, and while that unmoving fact brought you together as children, now, as adults, it brings you to your knees, as each day is just another opportunity for you to hurt each other in any and every way your minds could conjure up.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, enemies-to-lovers, strong language, mentions of violence, blood, neteyam being an absolute dick, mentions of reader being choked (not in the fun way)

wc: 5.4k words

a/n: after a much longer wait than anticipated, my enemies-to-lovers fic is officially here, and I'm so excited to start a new series. As much as I love the one shots and the requests and the drabbles, I am a series enthusiast at heart, and this is something i'm really looking forward to, as I find this whole idea very challenging and hope i do it justice. pls enjoy besties, and as always, thank you for every like, reblog, reply, it means the world x (thank you very much to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

na'vi compendium: syä - bitter, rumaut - cannonball fruit tree, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, parultsyìp - children

: ̗̀➛ next chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

I tried to look for the best in the worst, but like, fuck me, that caused a commotion

You're lucky I'm a private person, I’ve quietly carried your burden

And everyone thinks you're an angel, but shit, I would probably use different wording

“You know, syä, one day, I’m going to be better than you at this, and that day, you will have to swallow your words, and I think that’ll be very hard for you to do.” 

“You know, Lo’ak, if you one day do beat me at anything, then I’ll be more than happy to swallow my words. I’ll even swallow my tongue, if you want.” You chuckled as you propped yourself onto a thin branch of a rumaut, maybe 50 metres from the target on the ground, and dangling from it, upside down, you took aim, focusing intently with one eye closed. Breathing in, you took the shot, and watched as it landed straight in the middle, right next to your last arrow, very far away from Lo’ak’s arrows, which were buried somewhere so obscure, you couldn’t even spot them anymore. 

“You suck.” Lo'ak puffed, rolling his eyes annoyedly. You laughed and reclaimed your spot next to him, nudging him softly with a hand.

“No, skxawng, you suck. That’s why we’re here.” 

These little training sessions have become one of your favourite things to spend your afternoons doing. They started a few weeks ago, when Lo’ak came by unannounced to your tent, his tail sheepishly between his legs. He hated that he had to ask, his enormous pride wounded and scarred, but he figured finally building up the courage to ask you to train him in his bow and arrow practice was better than asking his brother and once more proving the chasm between their skill level true. You were cocky and arrogant on the surface, but deep down, Lo’ak knew you had a heart of gold and wouldn’t judge and, at the end of the day, would do anything for him, and for his whole family.

Well, almost his whole family.

You found the oldest Sully sibling by his tent, masterfully skinning a yarik from his latest hunt. Just like everything else Neteyam did, he excelled at it. He looked peaceful and deep in thought as he worked, expression which quickly melted into annoyance when his lips pursed in a tight line and his eyes hardened, as soon as they spotted you making your way towards him. You smirked when you noticed the change, loving to see him so on edge whenever you invaded his personal bubble, which happened to be all the time, since you were as good as Neytiri and Jake’s adoptive daughter. 

You loved Neytiri and Jake. You owed them everything you had, everything you were. After your parents’ death, they provided you with the support and love and care needed to not fall into the pits of despair that came with being orphaned, with being all alone. They saw something in you, ever since you were a child, and trained you side by side with their oldest son, Neteyam. Quickly, it was obvious to everyone who paid attention that you were a prodigy, just like he was. Neteyam liked you when you were kids, and you liked him, too. You loved him, in fact. He was your best friend, and you were his. It was hard not to be each other’s best friends, when you spent so much time together, when you shared every blister, every bloodied gash, every muscle cramp from practice. You shared the good and the bad, and it was just the two of you. Nobody else knew what you went through or could possibly understand, nobody else had to spend their whole childhood being honed into the perfect warriors, the future of the Omaticaya strength. Kids played and kids laughed and kids held hands splashing in the nearby river, but you and Neteyam cleaned each other’s wounds and gave each other words of encouragement, and soft, shy smiles as your eyes met across the practice field. 

That was all in the past. Very far in the past. So far so, it was hard for you to conceptualise that it happened in this life, and it wasn’t some sort of fantasy you made up in your head, because there was nothing left of the warmth or the camaraderie you once shared. Whereas before he was a warm shelter from the storm in your life, now he was the storm, cold and ruthless, out to get you and to hurt you, to turn your limbs cold and your heart numb. You don’t know when this happened. You just know that at some point around when you were 12, Neteyam started pushing you away, until one day you were so far away, you were just a dot in his life, so far removed from the vast, centre-stage line you used to represent, a line between his past and future, between a friend and something more, something better, something permanent. 

It’s been 7 years since. Seven years since Neteyam was more or less a stranger, albeit an annoying, aggravating stranger. Because a stranger, you could ignore. A stranger, you didn’t have to see every damn day, in practice, in stings, in battles, at breakfast, lunch and dinner. A stranger might have ignored you, or pretend you don’t exist, but not Neteyam. Neteyam was determined to make your life a living hell, to make you feel as unwelcome and inadequate as humanly possible, and so you resigned yourself to returning the favour, because you very rarely ever lost to him, and you weren’t planning on starting any time soon. 

When you and Lo’ak approached, you watched as he sized you up, his eyes travelling down your body, lingering for just a second longer on your chest, covered in flowy, silken fabric, your signature look. You loved the beads, and the feathers that usually concealed Na’vi bodies, but what you loved even more was the feel of the luxurious, soft material that you took great pleasure in making yourself from a secret, coveted technique your mum taught you as a child, before she died. You tried to ignore how his stare made you feel, how the tingling that always appeared on your skin matched the bubbling feeling in your stomach, and you pushed it down, choosing to believe that’s just the feeling of hatred, of deep, intense dislike, that you didn’t feel for anyone but him.

“If you’re not actually going to contribute anything of use to the clan, you might as well train instead of wasting time and dragging Lo’ak to your level. Are you not in enough shit with father as it is, baby bro?” 

You didn’t even look at him as you walked past, opening the flap to the Sully family tent. 

“Well, Neteyam, not all of us have to try so hard all the time to keep up. Some of us are just naturally better than others.” You say with a sly smirk, almost able to hear the steam coming out of his ears, before you entered the tent and closed the flap behind you.

“The two of you will kill each other one day, you know that, right?”

You rolled your eyes at Kiri, who was dutifully making healing pastes by mixing it in a small pot on the fire, and removed the bow from around your torso, tossing the quiver on the ground and sitting next to it, warming your hands off the heat emanating from it. 

“Or fuck each other, one of the two.”

“Lo’ak!” You and Kiri hissed at the same time, and you threw a small rock you found on the ground at him, hitting him right in the middle of his forehead. You smiled, satisfied when he yelled in pain. You never missed. 

“Ow?! You’re so mean sometimes, no wonder he doesn’t like you! I’m just saying, you guys always have sexual tension, and I’m definitely not the only one that thinks so. Spider says so, too.” 

“Oh, well if Spider says so, then it must be true! It couldn’t be that you’re both children, and your mind hasn’t left the gutter since you first had a girl let you into second base.” 

“Ah… Mira… she was something, wasn’t she? Haven’t seen her in a while.” 

“Yeah, she’s hiding from you.” 

Lo’ak returned the rock in a pointed throw, that you dodged effortlessly, smirking in his direction. 

“See? Mean.” 

Walking through the village in the late afternoon, you are pleasantly surprised at the still bustling atmosphere, all the men, women and children contributing in their own respective ways to the clan’s prosperity and success. People were returning from hunts, crafting arrows, sharpening knives, preparing new garments for the warriors that will be leaving for a new mission early in the morning. It filled you with a sense of wonder, this clan, despite having lived and breathed in it your whole life, it never ceased to amaze you, how beautiful, how grand, how unified it was. It made you determined, more and more each day, to fight the fight, to never give up or give in, to always strive to be better, stronger.

It was a big one tomorrow, a big train filled with guns and supplies, protected by 10 helos and armed guards, that were needed to the clan and would constitute a big loss for the humans. A win-win, as Jake would sometimes say. You couldn’t even remember when the first one of these missions started. It’s been more than 5 years since the humans have returned, 5 years since life as you knew it changed forever, 5 years since death and hurt followed you everywhere you went, since every day felt like a battle for survival, for your clan, and your people, and your world. Back then, that first mission terrified you, it ate at your soul and your body, manifesting itself in chills and shakes, in crying eyes and trembling lips.

You remember that day like it was yesterday, you remember how you and Neteyam were the youngest in the war party, how for the first time in years, you felt a connection to the boy as your eyes met on your respective ikran, and you saw in them pain, and fear… and yearning. For a second, he was your friend again, and the future you dreamt about as a kid, one where it was just you and him, facing this harsh world together, came back in full force, taking the breath out of your lungs. But the second passed and so did his gaze and his vulnerability, and his walls never diminished, but only got thicker and more fortified in time, and yours did too, as a result. It hurt you, his behaviour, how sudden the change had been and how drastic, how he pushed you away with no goodbye, with no chance to defend yourself, how no matter how much you tried to mend it, it just ended up making it worse. So after a while, you gave as good as you got, and blow by blow, your relationship died like soldiers on the battlefield, broken and bruised, rotting away, only the beautiful memory of what used to be left behind. 

Training was still in full force at the edge of the village, in the big clearing fortified by trees and a waterfall where Jake now taught you all how to use human weapons. You didn't really need the practice, not anymore, having mastered every weapon he thought fit to throw at you years ago, but still, you went, because you may not need it, but one person you wanted to see did.

You smiled as you saw him, struggling with a Y70 Bullpup Rifle, a deep frown on his face and a small pout on his lips, and your heart swelled at the sight. O'ì'en Te Äfawoo Ìrauyon'itan was many things, all good and pure, all sweet and kind, a good balance for you, all fire and ice, no sense of balance or middling emotions. He was a mighty warrior, and a needed shelter from the new storms in your life. You've known him your whole life, but have started spending more time with him recently, as you started subbing for Jake as a mentor and a teacher, in days he was too preoccupied or otherwise engaged with one of his other many Olo'eyktan duties. He found the human weapons particularly strange and difficult to understand, so you weren't surprised now, finding him like this, struggling as he was, still trying to understand how to put it back together, how to make it work again.

You snuck behind him, careful not to make a noise, and he startled as your hands reached around and found his chest, that you caressed, tracing his defined pecs and abs, laughing as the weapon almost dropped from his hands.

"Tanhì, you scared me. What are you doing? People are watching."

"So? Let them watch." your eyes found Jake, who was eyeing your interaction curiously, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk on his face. You brought your hand to your forehead and greeted him with a smile, and he waved at you, another human gesture he found it hard to part ways with. He made his way towards the pair of you, enveloping you in a big hug, and you almost suffocated in between his swollen, muscular pecs.

"Woah, Jake, you're gonna kill me right before an important mission." he laughs again, and you feel the deep rumble in his chest, reverberating in the forest surrounding you.

"I see you, ma Olo'eyktan."

"I see you, O'ì'en. Is the gun giving you trouble? I'm sure my little spark here can help you out. Seems you two are... close enough that she might consider it." you rolled your eyes and removed yourself from his grasp, and his knuckles made contact with the top of your head, putting pressure and twisting until it hurt, in yet another human habit you hated, that he called a noogie. He said it was affectionate, but you weren't so sure.

"Good luck." and with a wink, he was gone, focusing on the other Na'vi who needed his help and guidance.

You got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"Right. So this part is the underslung grenade luncher and it goes -"

It was late at night when you made your way back to your tent, smiling to yourself at the tranquility and joy of your evening, so far removed from the morning that was waiting for you and all you stood to lose when it came. Worry enveloped you like a shroud as you approached, and haunting thoughts tugged at your mind, but they didn't have time to fester, not as soft moans and breathy names percolated in your ears instead and took their place, names and voices you recognised. You circled your tent to the tree that rested right behind it, and you found exactly what you thought you would, exactly what you didn't want to ever see in your life. Neteyam's back shielding his little annoying girlfriend's naked body propped against the tree, with her legs around his hips, as he rutted into her.

You hated Neteyam in that moment. You knew he was doing it on purpose, you knew there was no other reason why he would choose this spot to do this, other than the knowledge that you would be coming to bed soon and the satisfaction he knew he would get from your reaction. But you wouldn't give it to him. The satisfaction, that is. He was good, at the little mind games, at knowing what buttons to push to drive you to the point of considering whether your love for the Sullys was greater than the desire to remove his head from his shoulders, but in time, you learnt all his little tricks, and in time, you learnt how to beat him at his own game.

You cleared your throat, your voice sweet and docile as honeycomb as you spoke.

"Neteyam, I just came from your family's tent. Mo'at was looking for you, she said you've been missing you treatments for your genital warts." You let out an affected noise, trying your hardest to sound sympathetic and concerned. "I'm sure it's fine, though. I'm sure the elders are wrong when they talk about how it makes fungus grow out of your vagina if you're infected by it." You almost broke your composure when the girl let out a pained yelp, but otherwise pushed through.

"Oh, well! Have a good evening!" And with that, you took your leave, grinning from ear to ear as all you heard when you entered your tent was screaming and Neteyam trying to hush her and defuse a newly-chaotic situation.

The mission and the aftermath went as well as could be expected, and you were proud of your contribution that never went unnoticed in the clan, or among the Sullys, much to Neteyam's dismay. He was still enraged about your little stunt, and you were happy that despite his continuous stink eye, you killed 5 humans, and secured the perimeter at all times, keeping the war party safe throughout the duration of the mission. The praise from everyone in the village meant the world to you, it meant everything to you, and by the afternoon, you felt on top of the world. The feeling didn't last, though, replaced with more anxiety than you knew what to do with, as Mo'at asked for your immediate presence by her side, as a matter of urgency.

You were nervous as you made your way to the Tsa’hik’s tent, unsure of why you would have been summoned there in the first place. You were going to see Mo’at for dinner shortly anyhow, so whatever it was she had to tell you was definitely too important to wait, and well, let’s just say you had a bad feeling. The bad feeling worsened when you finally pushed past the flap of the marui and found Neteyam sitting on the ground, the same kind of muted confusion visible on his face, that quickly changed into his signature “you” look as soon as he noticed who it was that walked in. You brought your fingers to your forehead and bowed your head to your Tsa’hik. 

“I see you, Mo’at.” 

She returned the gesture with a smile, and you sat down in front of her. 

“Is something wrong, ma Tsa’hik? Why are Neteyam and I here?” 

Mo’at circled the pit of fire that resided in the middle of her tent and placed a hand on one of your and Neteyam’s shoulder, a big smile on her face.

“It’s great news, ma parultsyìp. My latest communion with Eywa brought forth visions and guidance from the our Great Mother. Visions of you, my children.” Her smiled dropped a little and was replaced by a more serious expression, which accompanied her tone of voice.

“I know you two haven’t seen eye to eye for a while now. I know a lot of it is our fault, pushing you both to be the best versions of yourselves and pushing you apart as a result, but you used to be best friends, you used to hold each other close in your hearts, and Eywa thinks that can happen again… that it should happen again.” 

Mo’at’s words scared you. She was being vague and the direction of the conversation made you uncomfortable, sending shivers down your spine. You looked at Neteyam, who was watching you already and you stifled a grimace at the way he turned instantly, like the thought of meeting your gaze was too unbearable to even be considered. 

“Grandmother, what are you saying?” 

“Eywa has chosen the new Tsa’hik, grandson. You two are to be a mated pair, and Neteyam, you will be one of the finest ruling pairs the Omaticaya has ever seen.” 

Your mouth fell agape in shock and your brows furrowed as your mind was assimilating the influx of information, the way that your life instantly changed in so little time, in as little time as it took Mo’at to say the words out loud. Mated pair? Tsa’hik? You and Neteyam? Too many contradictions, too many oxymorons when said altogether for it to make sense to you. You looked over at Neteyam, hoping that for at least a second he’d let you in, he’d look at you, so you could work through this together, so you can navigate it together… so you can handle it together. But all you saw was anger and his composure coming apart at the seams, his tail shaking furiously and the tip of his ears a deep purple. 

“Absolutely not. This has to be some sort of mistake, grandmother.” 

Your own ears twitched and fell backwards at the unfairness of it all, at his booming tone and furious demeanour, at the way it was inconceivable to him that you'd have to spend your life together. It stung, the needles of hurt piercing your skin like a tattoo, marking you, how Neteyam never said no to his family, to his Tsa’hik, but decided to break that rule for himself just to reject you. It’s not like you wanted him, either, definitely not, but there was something about his antipathy towards you, unshaken and unwavering, even after all these years, that will always get under your skin, in the way that only he ever managed to. If there’s one thing you were good at, though, is matching him blow by blow. 

“Yes, Mo’at. He has his standards set much too low to allow me to be his mate, and I have mine set way too high for him to be able to do anything but limbo under them.” yet another word you learnt from Jake, that seemed appropriate now, too appropriate to go to waste.

“That’s enough!” Mo’at was no longer in a joking mood as she looked at both of you, a stern disposition about her that you knew better than to cross. “Eywa’s decision is final, and she’s never wrong. I was just as shocked as you are, and I don’t know why she chose you, but she did. We will talk shortly about the ceremony. You can leave now.” 

You sighed, your head falling in between your hands as you heard Neteyam scoffing and getting up, and the air that hit your back as he opened the flap of the tent and rushed out of it without another word. 

“Mo’at… please. This has to be a mistake. I’m not fit to be Tsa’hik, you know this. I am a warrior, I have been a warrior my whole life. There’s much better suited people for the job, much better girls, I -“ 

Mo’at silenced you with an affectionate pat on your head. “I think you’d be better fitted than you think. Now go, I’m sure there’s better things you could be doing than sitting here, fretting over a done deal.”

The water in the lake of your secret meadow, your favourite place in the whole world, was colder than you were used to, a welcome respite in a sea of flames that felt like it was engulfing every corner of your mind and body, as you were processing the calamitous conversation you shared with the woman. What was she thinking? What was Eywa thinking? You and Neteyam? The man hated you. And you hated him. What kind of mateship could this ever be, other than one filled with pain and suffering. What kind of leadership could this be, other than one that was disjointed and chaotic. This was a mistake. You would tell Mo’at as much the next time you saw her.

You could at least try to reason with Jake and Neytiri first. They always listened to you, they always took your opinions into consideration. You would tell them that Neteyam has a girlfriend and an intended mate, that you were too young for such eternal commitments, that there was no productive resolution to this, as long as this was still to go ahead. You would do this and it would work. It had to work, because what was the alternative?

A little calmer and with a plan in mind, you swam your laps, enjoying the cold crisp feel of the water against your burning skin. You did this for hours, until you eventually tired, now peacefully laying on the soft grass, looking up at the stars. You have always been able to escape this sometimes harsh reality in the safety of your mind. But harsh reality always had a distasteful way of creeping back in, and it did so now in the form of the one person you never wanted to see, the one person whose presence had the power to burn you and turn you cold all at the same time. 

“Leave, Neteyam.”

“No. We need to talk.” 

“Oh, what could we possibly have to talk about, Neteyam?” You said sarcastically. Of course he’d want to talk now, finally coming with his tail between his legs. You might put him out of his misery if he was nice about it, if for the first time in years he found it in his tiny, little heart to apologise and talk to you like an actual person, if he came to you with some semblance of humbleness and communicated fairly and honestly. Maybe you could finally come to a mutual understanding. This would benefit both of you, so there had to be a way to finally learn to be civil to one another and put your difference aside. 

“Stop being coy, it doesn’t suit you.” You rolled your eyes. This wasn’t off to a great start. 

“Stop being a dick if you want to talk to me.” 

“You have to go talk to my parents and tell them you don’t want this. Tell them you’re in love with that loser boyfriend of yours, tell them you’ve mated with him already. Tell them you don’t want to ever be tied down, that you don’t think the title of Tsa’hik would suit you. I don’t care what you say, just do it. You and I both know this can’t happen. It won’t matter what I say to my parents.” He looked down to his feet and mumbled mostly to himself. “It never does.” He collected himself quickly, before he continued.

“But they care about your opinion. I have to be Olo’eyktan, you don’t have to be Tsa’hik. So go talk to them.”

You rose to your feet and faced him. Your blood quickly started boiling in your veins at his words and tone, at the way he barely looked at you or acknowledged you, at the way he continued to treat you like a plague or disease to be sneered at, to be demeaned, to be avoided. You wanted to scream at him, to take him by his shoulders and shake some sense into him, and hope that this way the Neteyam you used to know, whose memory you still cherished despite all the horrible, unhappy, strenuous years that followed, would just return to you. But being vulnerable around him is something you’ve learnt the hard way you needed to avoid at all costs, so in the matter with which you’ve been accustomed, in a half-sneer, half-growl, you spoke.

“I have to give it to you, Neteyam, you definitely have some nerve. Coming here, demanding that I take one in the chin, yet again, might I add, and be the one to go and talk us out of this predicament, and not even being civil about it, when it’s you asking me the favour. You’ve always enjoyed letting me do all the dirty work, while you maintain the golden child title you clearly value so much. The mighty warrior. The perfect soldier. We both know, deep down, you’re just a fucking coward.”

You watched as his expression darkened, an edge to his face and beautiful features you’ve very rarely, if ever, seen before. But you were angry, so angry, so done protecting his feelings, so over trying to maintain a semblance of decorum for the sake of the love you shared in the past and the love you still share with the rest of his family, for the peace that you once hoped to protect. No one could make you angry like he could. No one got under your skin as well as he did, nuzzling there and making a home of the warmth of your bones, there to stay, until you were willing to forcefully remove him, until you were willing to finally break free from his unyielding grasp his presence had on your mind. It was finally time, it seemed. 

“You sit there and act like this is an inconvenience to you. I’m going to be stuck being Tsa’hik forever. I’m one of the best warriors in this clan. I stood by Jake and Neytiri my whole life, just like you. Why the hell should you get to lead the people in battle, while I have to stay behind, and forsake everything I have ever worked for, all the sacrifices I made and all the years I gave to stand behind and heal your wounds? I should be Olo’eyktan between the two of us, and I think you know that, Neteyam. I think it eats at you at night, the thought. I think that’s the reason you have treated me like dirt since the second you realised this very fact. I think you’re scared your own parents prefer me. You’re scared that comes push to shove, that little bimbo girlfriend of yours might only be with you for the prestige that comes with fucking the future Olo’eyktan, and that if by any chance she finds this out, she’d dump you faster than a banana fruit on a sunny day.” 

You knew it was a step too far, and definitely felt it as soon as Neteyam’s fingers wrapped around your throat and squeezed and your breath hitched in your throat with nowhere to go. 

“You’re such a little bitch. Take it back.” There was no light in his tone, no levity, just pure rage, burning wildly in his eyes and manifested in his bared teeth, threatening fangs fully on display, the low growl blooming in his throat felt deep within you, and for the first time in your life, you were scared of the man sitting in front of you. You felt yourself becoming dizzy and disoriented as the lack of oxygen was taking over your mind, but you refused to give in to his desires, not when he was hurting you, not when he crossed a line, not when you could be hurting him. You smirked instead, and tried to focus enough to get the words out. 

“You’re… a coward. You’re weak, Neteyam. Threatened by a little girl, so you pushed me away and continue to treat me like dirt. I have never thought I am better than you, Neteyam, until right now, that is. I realised something today. I don’t think I’m better than you. You think I’m better than you.”

With all your might and the last of your power, you kneed him, as hard as you could, straight in the groin, and exhaled in relief when his hand dropped from you throat and went to his loincloth, growling in pain. You groaned as you felt the marks he left on you, that will definitely bruise, and struggled to find your balance, as you walked slowly away from him. 

“I’m just as unhappy about this as you are. But you crossed a line, Neteyam. The next time you lay a hand on me, I will make you pay, and I promise you that little girlfriend of yours will have to make do without offsprings.” 

You left the spot that meant so much to you, that was now tainted forever, rubbing his finger imprints off your now sensitive, raw neck, heart full of deep anguish and mind filled with all the ways you were going to make him pay, and that started with one simple step: forsaking the plan to get out of this little arrangement. 

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif

[buckets-and-trees]

Hoe’kay, I’ve had a thot 👀 Cedar Trees AU drabble + make it a/b/o 😏

This really just stems from this horny visual that won’t leave my whore mind: Steve scenting Reader’s throat for the very first time 😵‍💫🤌🏻🫡🫠

Oh! Siri!

If this man....

GOOD LORD

okay

So let's play with this.

If the Cedar Trees AU were an omegaverse...

So King Steven Rogers, strong and dutiful alpha... let's say he's come to his kingdom in kind of an Arthurian way, being chosen by destiny/winning the throne. He's beloved by his people. He spent ten or twelve years on the throne because he was devoted to serving his people, making peace for his kingdom, learning his duties, becoming the king he would want to serve if he weren't wearing the crown. He didn't turn the heads of anyone as a somewhat scrawny adolescent of unremarkable upbringing. Once the crown was thrust on his head, everyone was watching. He was always smart, and he stayed grounded. He also grew into his very remarkable adult alpha male body. (because duh)

Given all of this, he didn't let himself get distracted by the attention. He worked hard not to let himself get taken advantage of by anyone in or out of the kingdom while he was learning how to be king, either. He told everyone marriage was a long way off. Many people tried to argue that he needed to acquire his queen and establish his position with an heir for stability. He said there was nothing the existence of a child could do if there wasn't a stable kingdom for them be born into, and true stability would be achieved by him doing the work expected of him as a king.

Bucky, his number one, his right hand, is the one who assured him (and kept pushing him) that it was finally time to look to marriage - that at this point in his reign, there aren't any excuses of duty that he can make anymore. They discussed - because he trusts Bucky with everything and to keep his head right - that it needed to be a logical political alliance to strengthen two kingdoms, a smart woman who could even possibly be an asset in court and fostering royal relations. And she'd need to be an omega, but Steve both knew AND didn't mind in the slightest that he wouldn't end up with the much romanticized idea of a true mate. It was uncommon enough for someone without a crown, but laughable for a king.

But as alpha and omega dynamics do rely on primal chemistry at least to a point, after initial negotiations had been deemed suitable, there was a day planned for Steve and his delegation to meet you, your parents, and the rest of your advisors/delegation. This took place at a neutral location - another palace with friendly relations to both of you. Things began with a royal lunch, hosted by the king and queen of the land you were both visiting. A chance to break bread and everyone just share a meal and warm up the familiarity.

And then a royal walk around the gardens for the potential marital parties and a chaperone each. Does this sound formal? Yes. Because it was. It was you and Steve with Bucky and someone from your family following ten feet behind, and it took place outdoors because this kind of walk before final negotiations is solely for two partners to test whether or not there's hormonal compatibility, informal scenting, and if it's not going well, the parties are spared having that confined to a room, and anyone can make some excuse of a loose shoe, too much heat, being exhausted, etc, to shorten the walk.

But the walk with you is pleasant from beginning to end. The conversation is nothing deep, and neither of you went in for overly engaging, but it was the kind of conversation that he occasionally experienced with visiting dignitaries who didn't have business with him. Easy, natural.

It's only when he realizes that the two of you are almost back to the palace and he hasn't actually gotten the read on scent compatibility that he worries a little. He has to do something. Pleasant conversation was not the point of this walk.

So just as you re-enter the foyer and are about to part, he takes your hand to politely bestow a kiss over the back of it, it should allow him to scent your wrist appropriately but not overtly.

Only when he does catch your scent, he discovers that it was something floral that he though had been the garden, something so enticing that he holds his breath in that moment, and his hand holds yours a little more tightly, and a second or two longer than expected.

He looks up to your face again, and your lips are pressed together with just a hint of timidity behind the soft curving smile. You are trained - as he has been - to keep an open face, but one that doesn't tell everything. But he can see in your eyes just a hint of a spark.

This will work.

He wants to turn your hand over and truly scent the inside of your wrist, press a kiss to that spot of tender flesh and feel your pulse beneath his lips, that's how much your scent compels him.

But of course he won't do that.

The two of you part, and when Bucky asks if it's a favorable assessment for the final arrangements for the marriage to go forth that afternoon, Steve nods and affirms it.

He sorts his thoughts logically - it's just a very fortunate compatibility. The coupling will be compatible.

He has no idea the two of your are meant for growing together and sincerely enriching each others lives - that you are his true mate.

He still won't even believe it over the honeymoon.

It will be that period after when he realizes he's in love with you, and even being in love, it will still take more time - a few heat cycles and ruts together, and just being together for him to ultimately realize it. And then when he looks back, it will be as plain as day.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[anzulvr]

hii could i please request a little hurt/comfort drabble where reader feels sad during christmas season but forces herself to at least pretend to be happy because karma’s birthday is on christmas day :( but karma notices how her smile doesn’t meet her eyes and stuff and asks reader about it!

Summary: You’re sad on Christmas, Karma x reader (except it’s his birthday.) hurt/comfort GN!reader HUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR ASSASSINATION CLASSROOM

(this is so cute I LOVE THIS REQUEST thank u! Had this in my drafts for a while but waited for Christmas to post)

It had been two years since everything ended. Two years since Korosensei died and all of End class were labeled as victims with some weird-Stockholm attachment to the monster who blew up the moon.

It was strange, seeing everyone care about you when you didn’t need it and remembering how low they thought of you when you were only the reject class of kunugigaoka.

A lot happened in two years, not a long time but considering how quickly everything was moving you hadn’t had time to catch up. Like any special day Christmas wasn’t a good time anymore- something your classmates agreed on. With the impact Korosensei had on your lives it was impossible to celebrate anything without wondering what would have been if you managed to save him. That was only wishful thinking, you couldn’t change the past.

Regardless, today you tried to keep a smile on your face. It was the most important time of the year, Karmas birthday- and Christmas too.

You stared at your poor attempt to decorate the cake you baked with Karma, the frosting written birthday note was almost illegible.

“What’s with the look, you’re writing isn’t that bad.”

You looked up after hearing Karmas voice as if you were pulled out of a trance.

“What look? I know it’s not that bad I was admiring our hard work.”

“More like my hard work, you kept dropping everything! Seriously though, what’s wrong? The whole day I’ve been catching you teary eyed.”

You turned your back to the counter to face him as you set the frosting bag down “I’m fine, today’s your day I’m not going to bother you with my problems. You should enjoy everything to its fullest.”

“I’m not going to enjoy anything if you’re not happy, ‘m not budging tell me why you’re upset.”

Karma was stubborn, you knew him well enough to realized this wasn’t negotiable.

“I don’t know… I was just thinking about how Korosensei can’t spend Christmas with us, and he can’t be here for your birthday. Ever since we killed him, Ive felt so helpless? Like we never did enough.”

He nodded slowly breaking eye contact for a second, “my parents haven’t answered my call today, they’re in Italy right now, all I got was a text saying they were busy and that they’d talk later. I know they haven’t forgotten, it’s kind of impossible when it’s Christmas but still- I hoped they would have time for me today, I know they have more important things to do but It made me think about how Korosensei would’ve been here.”

you nodded in response, “They could still call the days not over… and if they don’t they’ll try to make it up to you…” You could bet they wouldn’t call until the next day but you wanted to reassure him, there wasn’t a lot you could say in this situation that would make him feel better.

“It’s fine, you’re here- and you’re the best company, I had fun today. I just meant Korosensei has done a lot for us he’s proud we pulled that off, he wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over it.”

“I know you’re right, still I wish I could’ve done more, we should’ve tried harder to save him.”

“We did what we had to. I miss him too, there’s a lot of things I could never repay Korosensei for—”

“Like getting you through senioritis? Or always bringing money in his wallet even though he knew you’d steal it?”

“I meant setting us up together, but sure those were good too.” Karma smiles breaking tenseness of the conversation for moment, “at the time I thought he was being a hassle but without him im not sure id have you right now.”

Suddenly you felt shy laughing it off and covering your face for a moment while you composed yourself, “Yeah he did push for us a lot but I was obsessed with you far before we even ended up in 3-E so you would’ve had me regardless.”

“Yeah? Tell me more.”

“No way in hell, I don’t trust you to not make fun of me. Anyways I didn’t mean to bring up something depressing, we should be smearing cake all over your face right now.”

“Try all you want but it isn’t possible to mess up my face.”

“Wanna bet?” You shake the smile off your face.

“See that’s more I like it, we can enjoy our ugly cake now. And more importantly you can open your gift.”

“What do you mean my gift? It’s your birthday you’re not supposed to buy me stuff!”

“It’s also Christmas … I couldn’t help myself I really wanted to get you something.”

“But now I’m worried my gift won’t live up to yours!”

“[Name] you could give me rocks for all I care and I’d keep them in a safe with multiple locks.”

You gently shoved his shoulder suppressing your laughter, you leaned in to kiss him.

It was impossible to not feel better with him around. This morning you had woken up wishing time could stop for a moment and you ended the day hoping for the same thing but for a completely different reason.

[hockeyboysimagines]

Hello! I saw you're taking requests. Could you please write swayman x Reader with an angsty drabble using prompt

14."It's not what you think it is."?

Thank you!!!

My first Sway request! Thanks Nonny!

Enjoy🤍

He was definitely cheating.

You swiped at a tear and leaned back on your bed.

At first you gaslit yourself into thinking it was your paranoia talking. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d jumped to assumptions and ruined a good thing so you tried to control it. You talked yourself down every time you got suspicious and insisted to your brain you were looking at things the wrong way.

In the past, a complete meltdown and a fight would have been the first thing to happen. But those guys had been different. You wanted to be careful with Jeremy so you kept it to yourself, and for a while it had worked. But your resolve was crumbling and cracking a little bit each day.

The signs were all there.

In the last few months he’d taken a number of phone calls that he left the room for. At first you thought maybe it was just a private conversation. But by now the private conversations had started to happen sometimes twice a day.

Random changing and cancelling of plans. Once or twice wasn’t enough to raise any alarms. Things happened right?

But the final straw was when you were sitting in your favorite dress waiting for him only for him to call and try and move your date to later on, and then deciding to cancel it all together.

And then there was the email you saw. Purely an accident. You might have been paranoid but you weren’t intrusive enough to search through his phone. But when it dinged while he was showering you leaned to look at the screen and saw an email from someone named Sarah you wanted to rip the curtain open and confront him right there.

But what really sent you over the edge was the phone call. This time you’d been snooping but you wish you hadn’t because you investigated so hard you hurt your own feelings. You’d let yourself into his apartment unannounced which had never been a problem, and you had a key for that exact thing and he mustn’t have heard you. You however could hear him on the phone in his room so you quietly made you way and caught the end of a phone call you were probably not supposed to hear.

“She’s gonna be here soon so I can’t talk long.”

You felt your heart slide into your stomach as whoever it was on the other line answered and he responded “No she has no idea, and I wanna keep it that way for now at least. She’ll find out eventually and then we’ll go from there.”

A tear ran down your cheek as he continued “No I can’t do that time. If I cancel plans with her again she’ll start to get suspicious, and then everything will get all messed up. How about Friday? She works in the afternoon so I’ll be free. Sound good? Okay great. See you soon. Bye.” He hung up and tossed down the phone.

Now you’d had enough. With a loud bang you threw open the door so hard it hit the wall and he jumped, whipping around.

“What the f-“

“Free for what?”

He frowned “What?”

“Free. For. WHAT?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

You scoffed and pointed at the phone “What are you free for while I work in the afternoon? Some girl? Hmm?”

His went slack jawed and held up his hands “No I-“

“Save it. I KNEW it. I knew you were cheating on me. I’ve known for a long time, so spare me the denial I don’t want to hear it. Just tell me the truth.”

He shook his head and reached for you but you took a step back “It's not what you think it is."

“Oh yeah? Then explain to me what it is. You have 5 seconds.”

He loved to his beside table and opened the door, pulling a blue folder from it and sat down on the bed patting the space next to him “Come here.” He opened it and slid it to you “I’m not cheating on you, I’m doing this.” You looked at him confused as he continued “A vacation. A trip this summer for your birthday.”

You felt so dumb as you looked at the contents of the folder. Plane tickets, passport information, room number and excursion details. A surprise vacation that looked like he’d been working on for a while. You felt terrible.

“Jeremy I-I’m so sorry.”

Be he was smiling “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel that way, I just wanted it to be a surprise is all. Guess I’m not very good at keeping secrets huh?”

“I shouldn’t have accused you.” He looked at your lap but he reached under your chin to pull up your head and look you in the eyes “It’s okay really. But next time just talk to me about it okay? I would never cheat on you. Now.” He handed you the booklet with a smile “Pick some things for us to do.”

[abiiors]

Just Let Me // M.H.

I got so carried away with this, my god. It’s best friends to lovers??? (read: idiots to maybe lovers). I am so proud of how this turned out and I genuinely hope you like it &lt;3 (reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated)

I’ve kinda tried an omniscient POV in this so I hope it works. It’s mostly angst but there’s a happy-ish end. A positive one at least.

WC: 3.2k (my longest yet)

Warnings - Reader is struggling with mental health, a whole lot of crying in this one, yelling too. And quite a lot of swearing

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Drabbles

Your phone buzzes with another notification in your hands and you stifle another groan. That makes it ten now. 

All you want to do is put on the saddest movie you can find, have a good cry about your day, week, month and then curl up under a million weighted blankets. You simply want to forget about your life for just an hour or two but Matty (or rather, fate) has different plans.

Normally, when he sends you useless memes and silly reels, you make sure to reply to all of them. You even send him stupid stuff in return but all you’ve managed today is to leave him on read. 

It takes too much energy to open DMs, to respond to them—the energy that you simply do not have today. It’s one of those days. Lately, it’s always one of those days. They might as well be the norm now. 

Are you ignoring me now?

His message makes your phone buzz again and you wonder if flushing it down the toilet is a good idea. 

Are you ignoring him? No, yes, maybe a little. But only because he’s just so intuitive when it comes to you. You sigh, open the text chain and start typing up a response. But it’s already too late. 

Your phone is buzzing again; this time with an incoming call. 

You consider pressing decline or just letting it go to voicemail but he won’t give up until he’s sure he hasn’t done another stupid thing to make you mad. So you simply send a quick prayer out into the universe and press Accept. 

‘Hello…’ you try so hard to make your voice sound as neutral as possible. But it cracks on the last syllable anyway.

There’s a small pause at the other end of the line and you know he’s analysing that voice break. The sound in the background slowly grows distant and fades away as you realise that he’s moved to some quieter location. 

‘So…’ he hesitates a bit and you can instantly sense the suspicion in that one tiny word. ‘Are you home?’

‘Yeah,’ you quietly try to clear your throat, ‘yeah, just got in.’

‘And how was your day?’

Shitty! 

‘It was fine,’ you move around a few things on the dresser, hope that the noise is enough to distract him from the shift in your tone. But he’s smarter than you give him credit for. 

‘You’re lying to me.’ It’s not a question, it’s a statement. 

‘I’m not—’

‘Come on, sweetheart,’ he interrupts, ‘I am not as stupid as you think I am.’

‘You sure about that?’ you try lamely but it lacks any of the usual laughter in your voice. 

‘Rude! And don’t even try that with me right now,’ his voice holds a rare sternness. It’s not that he’s wrong. He did correctly call you out on that lie. The fact that you’ve known each other for close to seven years now makes it so much harder to lie to him. You contemplate dropping the act. You contemplate telling him everything, all about how life has been so difficult to handle lately; how you constantly feel like you’ve bit off more than you can chew. 

But he’s so busy… And you don’t want to trouble him. 

Their new album is set to release in just a bit over a month and there are a plethora of last-minute things to do; thousands of special edition CDs to sign and finalising the last details of various interviews, finalising the details of the tours. 

‘I’m just a bit more tired than usual, I promise you,’ you bite your lip to keep it from wobbling and hope that it’s enough to convince him. 

‘I’ll see you in a bit.’ There’s no protesting the finality in his tone. Not like you have the chance to because he instantly hangs up after that. 

As much as it is not his fault, it feels like this phone call has leached out the last of your energy. All you want to do is curl up in a ball on the hardwood floor. So that’s exactly what you do. Five minutes turn to ten, turn to fifteen until you lose track of time. Your eyes burn from all the unshed tears and it’s hard to keep them open anymore but you cannot stop staring at the little pink stain on the rug. 

You remember how Matty messed around your house that summer, spilt nail polish on your (then) new rug. How you painted his nails in all the neon colours you owned as revenge. You remember him saying how the stain was his way of making sure you’d never forget about him. 

As if…

A few sounds manage to break through the buzzing in your ears. There’s the sound of tyres pulling in your driveway, the sound of a car door opening and closing. And at last, the jangling of keys as someone tries to open your front door. 

You instantly know who it is. You’ve had each other’s house keys for a good few years now and today, for the first time, you wish he didn’t have them. You wish he wasn’t here at all. You wish you had never picked up his call. 

In a minute, he’s going to walk in here and find you curled up on the floor like a lunatic. He’s going to think you’ve finally lost the last shred of sanity. 

In a minute, you’re going to look at him and find him looking back at you with barely concealed pity. 

In a minute he’s—

‘What…’ he interrupts your train of thought and you make the barest of effort to peek at him through the curtain of hair that’s fallen over your face.

Matty’s not alone; or rather, he’s not empty-handed. He’s holding the prettiest bunch of daisies you’ve ever seen as well as a giant Tesco bag. You don’t have to ask him to know that he’s bought all your favourite junk food and that sugary ice tea you love so much. You also hear a few wine bottles clinking in there. 

It’s too much, all of it. He’s being so considerate, so nice. And you have no strength left in you tonight to conceal the feelings that bubble up in the face of this niceness. It’s supposed to be priceless, this gesture yet all it manages to do is be the last fucking straw. 

The restraint snaps and your eyes flood with tears and now they can’t stop flooding with tears. When before your eyes burned from unshed tears, now they can’t stop shedding them. And you cannot control the gasps and sobs that are being torn out of you. 

He swears softly and then chucks everything in his hands on the settee. He wastes no time running to you, wrapping his arms around you as he tries to pull you into a sitting position.

‘Sweetheart, hey,’ he’s trying to be soothing which only makes you cry harder. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’

‘I just got in,’ you blubber through the tears. It’s such a shitty excuse too but he doesn’t push it. 

‘I’m here,’ he says; repeats it over and over again like a mantra. 

His fingers caress your spine softly, almost lovingly but you refuse to think of it that way. What’s the point in romanticising simple comfort when it will only lead to more heartbreak?

‘Talk to me,’ he urges after a bit. 

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ you shrug your shoulders, look anywhere but at him. ‘Everything is a bit overwhelming lately, that’s all.’

He softly touches your chin, tries to make you look at him but you won’t budge. 

‘You’re doing it again…’ 

‘Doing what again?’ If playing dumb is what gets him off your back then so be it. 

‘This…’ you see him point at you from your peripheral vision. ‘You’re pretending like it’s not a big deal.’

‘That’s because it’s not a big deal,’ you mumble. Your eyes snag on the photo on the wall. It’s Matty and Hann pointing at some graffiti on the Berlin Wall and making goofy faces and it almost makes you smile. You have fond memories of this trip, maybe even the last time you felt truly happy. 

His gaze follows yours and rests on the photograph. 

‘Remember how you kept butchering the lyrics to 99 Luftballons?’ The smile in his voice is evident and you know he’s thinking of the same memories that you are. 

‘I didn’t butcher them!’ you say begrudgingly. In truth, you absolutely did but that was a carefree version of you. That was a different person who did not mind screaming the wrong lyrics at the top of their lungs, who laughed at the stupidest of jokes and cracked even worse ones. 

‘I haven’t heard you sing in a long time,’ he confesses. 

‘I just haven’t found scream-worthy songs in a long time,’ you deflect.

He shakes his head because he realises that you’re intent on being difficult tonight. He has to take a different approach to this.

‘Let’s go back,’ he suggests, ‘maybe even go to Italy this time.’

It’s such a ludicrous suggestion really that you snap your gaze back at him. He’s looking right at you, he’s never stopped looking right at you. 

‘What’s the point in making these plans,’ you laugh bitterly, ‘you’ll be gone in a month anyway.’

‘Then come with me.’

He says it so softly that you’re unsure if he even said it in the first place. He seems to come to the same realisation because he clears his throat. 

‘Come with me.’

Go with him…

‘You think it’s so easy,’ you scoff and wipe at your eyes furiously.

‘Isn’t it?’

It’s these two simple words that cut through all your barely-there calm. 

Isn’t it? 

Isn’t it?

‘And what about my job? My responsibilities? I can’t just run from everything!’ You muster up all the strength left in you as you yell at him. 

It’s as if it has opened up a dam inside you and now you can’t stop the flood of words. 

‘Not all of us have the luxury of doing what we love and travelling and fucking around. Some of us have to SURVIVE! Not all of us can just pause everything at the drop of a fucking hat.’

By the time you’re done, you’re sobbing so hard that you’re certain your heart’s about to crack in two. Any minute now…

But then his warm hands are grabbing your face. ‘Hey, hey,’ he’s whispering, forcing you to look at him, ‘hey, I need you to calm down a bit okay? Okay?’

The tears make his face look blurry and unclear but the concern in his voice is unmistakable. You can almost imagine the deep crease between his brows right now; how his mouth would be tilted downward. Still, the sobs don’t subside. 

‘Please, please,’ he’s begging almost, ‘will you take some deep breaths for me? Please…’

You are trying, you have been trying. All this time you have only been trying to make it from one deep breath to the next. 

‘Please…’ his voice cracks.

Gently, so gently he picks up your hand in his, observes the red half-moons formed on the palm because of how hard you’ve been digging your nails into it, and swipes a thumb over it. It takes him a second or two before he manages to control the tremble in his own hands. It’s only when you touch the soft cotton of his t-shirt, that you realise that he’s holding your hand over his heart. 

The fog clears just a smidge as you feel his strong heartbeat under your palm. Compared to his, yours feels like a galloping horse. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you sob once you’ve come to your senses. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

‘Stop…’

‘I know you work hard,’ you close your eyes tightly, let a few more tears escape, ‘I know your job isn’t easy.’

‘It’s not,’ he confirms. ‘I know you think I’ve no reason to complain.’

‘You’re misunderstanding me—’

‘And I know I’m so lucky to be doing what I do,’ he continues as if you haven’t spoken at all. 

‘That’s not—’ 

‘And I know you take your responsibilities much more seriously than I do…’

‘Listen to me—’ you try to interrupt again but he’s having none of it. 

‘No, you listen to me. Take a sabbatical, quit your fucking job for all I care. It’s not making you happy, it’s never made you happy. I’ll take care of you. You know I will.’

You roll your eyes and try not to scoff at his words but that just fuels him even more. 

‘Fuck, why won’t you let me! You took care of me when I needed it the most or have you forgotten about that? Have you forgotten how you held my hand as I checked into rehab?’

His voice chokes on the last word but he does not waver, he never wavers. 

‘Let me b—fuck, let me be there for you,’ he pleads. 

You grasp at straws, try to come up with even one reason why he shouldn’t be here right now. 

‘You already have a million other things to take care of.’

‘And they are all secondary to you.’ He wastes no time in answering. All this time that you’ve spent not looking at him, all that resolve crumbles in an instant as you finally turn to him. His hand twitches to wipe away the few tears that have slipped out but he stays put.

‘Please stop…’ you whisper—beg—through the lump in your throat. ‘Please stop saying things like that.’

‘And why should I?’ he challenges. 

Because you’re only saying them to make me feel better.

Because you just want this pity party to end. 

Because you are just fulfilling your obligation as my friend…

‘Because you don’t mean them…’ you breathe. 

You might as well have slapped him in the face. That’s how hard he flinches away. In fact, he would much rather you slap him in the face than hear you accuse him of that. 

Your entire body goes cold when he stands up, tries to put distance between you. And you have to grab the arm of the settee to make yourself get up. The spot on the floor where you were curled up should have been warm by now. Instead, it feels ice cold. 

‘I don’t mean them?’ His voice is so soft, so lifeless.

‘No, that’s not what I mean—’

‘You think I’m here to score some brownie points?’

He’s getting riled up now. That was the last straw for him and now you’ve finally managed to step over the boundary. You’ve finally crossed that invisible line.

‘Tell me why I’m here,’ he demands. 

‘I don’t—’

‘I need you to tell me why you think I’m here.’

‘Because you’re my fr—’

‘Don’t you fucking say that word,’ he shouts, ‘Don’t you dare say that word.’

You feel hollow sitting there; like a husk of a person. There’s no point to this conversation anymore but he’s not giving up. 

‘Ask me why I’m here,’ he shouts again and this time you can’t hold it in any longer. 

Your head pounds inside your skull and your patience is wearing thin. You’ve tried apologising, you’ve tried deflecting but nothing has worked. 

‘Fuck!’ you yell back, ‘Why ARE you here?’

‘BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!’ 

The silence that follows is the loudest silence you’ve ever heard.

He staggers back—eyes wide and mouth agape—and almost crashes into your TV. He can’t believe he’s just let that slip out. That was supposed to be his one secret.

And you can’t ignore the way your heart simply stops. 

Because how long have you waited for him to say those words? How long have you imagined whispered I love yous in the dead of the night in Matty’s voice? How long have you yearned?

He’s made up his mind now. He can’t take the words back, he doesn’t want to take them back so he squares his shoulders and looks you dead in the eyes.

‘Because I fucking love you, okay?’

This silent confession, a confirmation that the first one was not a fluke, nearly brings you to your knees. You beg your legs to hold you up as you take a small step toward him. 

‘You do?’ 

‘I have been in love with you for as long as I have known you.’ The exasperation in his voice is clear, so is the undercurrent of regret. 

For as long as I’ve known you…

Seven years…

Seven years that you could have had with him

‘It’s okay if you…’ he has to swallow a few times to stop himself from getting choked up. He has to blink a few times. ‘It’s okay if you don’t feel the same.’

Words cannot do justice to what you feel. 

Seven years…

This evening has gone from difficult to damn near impossible and there’s simply not enough air in the room. 

Seven years that you’ve wasted, you can’t let yourself waste another second. 

You stagger toward him and he’s instantly there to catch you, to hold you so close. He wastes no time tilting your chin up because he will die if he doesn’t do it now. And he will never find peace if he doesn’t know the taste of your lips. 

This kiss is unlike any other you’ve ever had in your life. There’s no elegance to it, no softness. Your teeth clash against each other multiple times in the first few seconds. It tastes like tears and stale cigarettes. It tastes like longing and yearning and hope. Best of all…it tastes like him

And it is, without a doubt, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life. 

It’s the best because it’s him. It’s always been him and now you finally get to have him.

‘I’m an idiot,’ you mumble against his lips. 

‘A proper imbecile,’ he confirms and you slap his arm lightly. 

‘You’re an idiot too!’

‘At least I had the courage to confess,’ he challenges.

You bury your face in his chest, breathe in his familiar scent, listen to his racing heart to calm yours down. Time is irrelevant in this moment. It could have been aeons or it could have been seconds, the only thing that truly matters is his body pressed up against yours. 

He knows he’s probably holding you tighter than he should but he’s held himself together—all alone—for so long that if he lets go now, he will crumble.  

‘So what happens now?’ you speak into the silence that surrounds you. 

‘Now I spend a lifetime making up for the last seven years.’ 

There’s no hesitation there, only determination. 

A fresh wave of tears gathers in your eyes. You know he can feel them dampening his t-shirt but he simply holds you tighter. 

‘I’ve got you, my love,’ he shushes, starts rocking back and forth and presses his lips to your hair, ‘I’ve always got you. And I’m never letting go.’

---

(If you caught the one lyric reference, ilysm)

[silkendandelion]

The Artifact, Dayedan (Tav) x Astarion Drabble

I love the way Astarion calls the artifact a “pretty thing”, so much that I combined it with the angsty idea someone wrote up about loving someone so much you would live for them, regarding Astarion’s vampiric immortality.

You don’t need any context, not really, except maybe that my Tav is an artificer and this short little thing takes place during the epilogue

~*~

Dayedan hands over the present, haphazardly folded inside a piece of velvet. He never was very good at presentation, Astarion muses, though he admires the azure fabric, soft and cool as he peels back the corners to reveal a replica of a familiar artifact.

“I know it may seem a little tainted, what with who used to live inside the thing, and everything we’ve been through. But you called it a pretty thing once, and I… want you to have them. Pretty things, I mean.”

“You’re a sweetheart. It’s absolutely gorgeous, darling. Is it magical? Did you enchant it?” He turns over the shiny polyhedral in his hands, gently, fingertips tracing the runes on its plates.

“A—little. It’s just a magic mouth spell, a modified knock. Give it the magic word. It will only respond to your voice.”

“Magic word?” He blinks. “Oh—Please.” He tried with a flirtatious rumble, but the sculpture lay quiet.

Remembering his words from before, he tried again, more excited. “Sledgehammer!”

He grinned, delighted, as the artifact began to glow a sunny golden along its creases, and its silver plates bloomed open. The plates, like petals, fell open to reveal a tiny Dayedan, shimmering, starlike and blue like a weave duplicate.

“Oh,” Astarion pondered the tiny figure with soft eyes, restraining himself from touching the image only barely when it began to speak.

‘I hope the angle is all right, I’m almost out of reagents—oh crumbs, is it going already—hello! Hello, Astarion, my love. I… had written a poem for you, but I don’t think poetry is what you want to hear. Not anymore. Also, I’m not ready to risk you leave me when you find out what a rubbish poet I am.’

Astarion smiled down at the little image as he went on.

‘So I’ll just say I love you, then… I love you, Star. I’ll never love anything as much as I love you. You deserve every day you get, even if it’s under the moon, and while that doesn’t change my promise to help you walk in the sun again… I understand how flawed of a wizard I am. If we—can’t find a cure, or if something happens to me, I want you to hear my voice in this box, see me in my youth, so that I—’

Click. Astarion pressed the runes on the plates and the artifact quieted, petals closing to cradle the magical figure.

“Wait, it wasn’t done. You—”

“I don’t need to hear anymore.”

Dayedan watched him cradle the artifact to his chest, his smile soft even as tears gathered on his white lashes. No, no, it wasn’t meant to make him cry—

He grunts awkwardly when Astarion pulls him into a sudden hug, too tight, the artifact still in his hands as he presses his tears into Dayedan’s hairline.

“Selfish of me, I know. You worked so hard on the spell, I’m sure. But I just can’t listen to you talk about… my going on without you. I—it won’t be for a long, long time. I’ve got plenty of time to get there.”

Dayedan’s shoulders relaxed, returning the hug when he felt Astarion nuzzle the rest of his tears into the collar of his robes. He would catch his tears for as long as they had, every time, he knew.

“You have to promise me you will, I won’t accept anything else.” He says into Astarion’s cheek.

“Just two selfish elves, aren’t we?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nods, pressing a kiss to his skin.

And Astarion was silent so long, Dayedan might have wondered if he’d fallen asleep in his neck, if not for the tremor in his cool hands where he gripped him around the middle.

“I promise.”

Dayedan feels a kiss on his own cheek, the words whispered into his skin as the vampire continues.

“Thank you. For the lovely gift and for… everything.”

[dross-the-fish]

If it’s alright, I’d like to see a drabble of how an argument between Dorian & Basil would go. If they argue. If not, then just an interaction.

TW for physical and emotional abuse. Dorian is not kind to Basil at all

....

The breakfast hall was silent save for the clink of china cups hitting saucers and spoons against bowls. For Basil this silence was a reprieve from the usual insults and tantrums. He only hoped Dorian would not break it today.  Then he saw Dorian put down his spoon, stare thoughtfully and open his mouth. With an inward groan Basil realized his hopes were going to be dashed before he had even made it half way through his second cup of tea.

“Enjoying your breakfast?” Dorian gestured at the bland porridge Basil had chosen while his own plate was laden with decadent fruits and cheeses. He picked up a plump grape and sucked it suggestively before chewing and swallowing it with relish.

Basil tried not to snap at him as he replied, “Yes, it’s fine,” he had found he was unable to stomach the rich foods Dorian loved to indulge in. Whether from stress, age or a combination of the two Basil had found that in recent years exotic cheeses, heavy spices and an abundance of wine increasingly made him sick with indigestion. Dorian had taken this as an opportunity, for every meal, to load the table with all of the things he knew Basil couldn’t eat, displaying an endless feast while providing Basil only a single bowl of porridge or a wedge of dry toast. He knew it was a petty punishment. Dorian blamed Basil for their current state of affairs and Basil didn’t entirely disagree that he was to blame.

He had loved Dorian once, the pure, innocent boy he’d met when they were both young and he’d tried so hard to capture that image in the portrait so that it could live forever. The beauty of the portrait had driven Dorian to become obsessed with his own appearance and to dread the ravages of time. So, he had made a bargain and trapped Basil with him in an endless loop of torment neither of them could escape.

Dorian had remained young and beautiful while Basil had grown old. After he had painted Dorian’s portrait Basil had been unable to reproduce the quality in any of his other works and his career as an artist died. He felt as if he had put his entire soul into Dorian’s portrait and so was unable to part from it and from its subject. So here he sat, an impoverished sixty-year-old man, sharing a table with an eternal twenty-year-old boy and waiting for that boy to cut him down cruelly and break his heart like he did every day.

Dorian’s rosy lips pulled into a cold grin, “It suits you, something bland and pallid, mushy.”

There it was, the shot at his weight. Basil swallowed a spoonful of the porridge that seemed to have turned to ash in his mouth. As he had grown older Basil had lost his own youthful beauty, his stomach had grown soft and there was a pad of fat under his chin that bulged when he bent his head down. His father had been fat in middle age, so had his grandfather, he’d know it would be his fate. A fate Dorian had managed to avoid entirely.

Basil sighed, unwilling to continue this cruel, childish game, “Yes, Dorian, I have grown old. That isn’t the brutal insult you think it is. I’ve no fear of getting older like some people,” he struggled to keep his voice calm, to produce an affect of boredom.

Dorian’s attractive face crumpled in momentary rage and then smoothed, “That’s funny, I seem to remember someone lamenting that youth was fleeting. Didn’t you paint me over and over again because you were terrified my beauty would fade before you could capture it on canvas? Wasn’t that the thing you cherished most? What’s changed Basil?”

Basil fought to contain a smirk, there was nothing Dorian hated more than to be the object of someone’s disinterest and after decades of enduring Dorian’s snipes and insults he couldn’t resist twisting the knife, “I outgrew it. Quite the experience, to grow up. If anything, I enjoy my own youth more for how brief it was. I pity that you will never know it. Surely, you’re starting to get bored of being young forever. Doesn’t it feel a bit like the dullest purgatory to never change? You’ve been partying harder lately, getting drunk more often. Are you running away from something? Maybe when you look at the old man I’ve become you know that I’m going to leave you soon and so will everyone else in time. You’re going to be alone Dorian, those that don’t die will get bored and leave because there’s nothing left of you but beauty anymore. You’re nothing but an empty vase, all the flowers died.”

He knew what was going to happen next, Dorian was a poor loser and he could not stand for Basil to win a round of their game of torment. With a cry he flew across the table and seized Basil by his whitening hair, jerking his head back and moving his face so close that Basil could smell the wine on his breath, and despite himself Basil couldn’t help but feel a sense of intoxication.

“This is your fault! We’re here because of you! Don’t you ever fucking forget it. I stayed young for you! You don’t get to resent me for fulfilling your heart’s desire,” Dorian spat giving Basil’s hair such a hard yank backwards that pain flared in his neck and back.

Tears sprang to Basil’s eyes, his lips quivered but he did not sob, wouldn’t allow himself to, not yet “You never knew my heart’s desire. All you fulfilled was your own vanity. That was never a part of you I loved.”

“And yet here you are, rotting in limbo with me. I wonder Basil, if it hurts to feel yourself crumbling to dust while I live like a god.”

“Not much of a god if tormenting in old man and eating smelly cheeses is the highlight of your morning. Godhood was wasted on you,” despite the steely bitterness in his voice, tears fell in anger and grief.

Dorian did the worst thing he could possibly have done; he kissed them, “Oh Basil, you know I can’t stand to see you cry,” he didn’t soften his voice or his grip on Basil’s hair but each touch of lips on his skin was deceptively tender and echoed the clumsy, innocent caresses of their youth. Little darting butterflies that once carried all that was spring and laughter on painted wings. Unable to resist he shut his eyes and held himself pliant in Dorian’s grip.

When Dorian settled on his lips in a cruel and hungry kiss Basil finally jerked his head away, knowing that he couldn’t give Dorian what he was after. His body no longer responded to such provocations “I can’t,” he sobbed, “You know I can’t!”

Dorian shoved him off the chair and stood above him, an angry, twisted smile on his face, “Useless, impotent old man,” he snarled, snatching the bowl of porridge from the table and throwing it at Basil, the porcelain shattered and the porridge splattered across the floor. The sight of Basil, old, fumbling on the ground and covered in food filled Dorian with revulsion. Is that was happened when people grew old? This undignified flabby, wrinkled thing that used to be his beautiful Basil, groping with gnarled hands to clean a mess someone else made? Dorian felt sickened just looking at him…

…and pained. Something about the sight was causing him a deep twisting pain deep in his heart.

A servant moved to help Basil but Dorian held up a hand to stop her. Hating Basil, hurting over Basil and unable to bear the idea of Basil being pitied.

 “Leave it, and don’t make him anymore. He can eat it off the floor or wait until supper, maybe that will help him remember that he is in my house and I am his master. He should be grateful that I continue to tolerate the sight of him…”

As he turned on his heel Dorian Gray pretended not to hear Basil Hallward sobbing behind him.

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

radiophile [drabble]

March, 2020

”Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat" “We smoked the last one an hour ago"

The spark of the radio really should frighten her. After all, no radio should be turning on by itself. But Ellen Scrooge had seen stranger things than that. She fixed it with a calm look, the smoke from her third cigarette twining up in the air.

“Don’t you start.” She said quietly. “You have no right to talk.” She reached out for her glass of wine. “And don’t you start on this either. I only allow myself the one.”

The radio’s static grumbled.

“You try working in this world, at this time, and not find a way to relax.”

It jolted again. "Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy, I’ve come home."

“Oh god, not Kate Bush.” She said with a tired laugh. “I can’t stomach it. Yes, yes, I know it's you, but must you play that? Go back to Simon and Garfunkel.”

Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson.

She laughs again. It was slightly more genuine. “I thank you for that.”

Silence returned with the radio static. It shifted into a gentle lullaby.

“No. That won’t work. Thanks, but won't. So don't grumble." The static shifted again.

"I don’t sleep well anymore. Not that I ever have.” Ellen said quietly. “…I can hear Fred crying through the walls.”

Well, everybody hurts sometimes.

“The boy is only 25, though. He had his whole life ahead of him. He tries his best, but his black mood only gets worse by the day.” Ellen put her head on her hands. “He can’t help it. It-.”

Runs in the family, I come by it honestly.

“Exactly.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I’m…so tired.”

The radio fell silent.

“When you said I had to repent, I didn’t need it to be this hard, you know. It’d be easier to live on this world as wicked. At least I wouldn’t care before.”

"You made me repent for my sins. Ding dong merrily on high. I had exactly three months of fun. And then this blasted pandemic happened. And here I am. Inside again."

Every way you look at it, cha' lose.

"It might have been easier to be bad," Ellen's cigarette burned her lungs. "At least I could suffer the suffering better then. It...gnaws at me. So much pain. So much sadness. And I'm stuck inside."

Nothing there sings, Not even my lark. Larks never will, you know, When they're captive. Teach me to be more adaptive.

"Being adaptive is hardly the problem. I was too adaptive, if anything." She tilts her head at the radio. “You’ve made me care again. And now you’re gone. And I care too much. And there's nothing I can do but wait this out."

You make me like charity, instead of paying enough taxes.

“If only that was the least of this world’s problems.”

The radio went silent again. Ellen sipped at her wine and finished her cigarette. She was about to leave the living room when-.

See the pyramids along the Nile, Watch the sun rise from a tropic isle Just remember, darling, all the while-.

“You belong to me.” Ellen finished with a tired, sad smile. “The one Christmas party we went to at Jorkin’s yes. I remember it. I’ve always liked that song. The only one we ever went to. You made me dance."

See the market place in old Algiers Send me photographs and souvenirs Just remember when a dream appears You belong to me

“And I’ll be so alone without you.” Ellen replied, leaning against a chair. She’d never claimed to be a singer. She spoke the lyrics in return, voice quiet. Maybe you’ll be lonesome too-“

Fly the ocean in a silver plane See the jungle when it's wet with rain Just remember 'til you're home again You belong to me.

“You belong to me.”

She shook her head fondly. She was too tired for any more. “Goodnight, Jacob.”

The radio didn't offer any retort. But as she got into bed, Ellen heard it murmuring gently.

We'll meet again Don't know where, don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.

"Strangelove, indeed." She said out loud.

She almost thought she heard his laugh.

[sspaz1000]

Ten Lines

I was tagged by @blackandwhiteandrose @lizzie-bennetdarcy @mammameesh

Rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or three), and share it! Then tag other people.

Wow, y’all are out there making me step out of my comfort zone and promoting my work!

1) Last posted work in my drabble series:  Wedding

 Later that night, David whispered to Patrick, “Thank you.”

2) My first SC fic: There’s a First Time for Everything

David pulled away slightly, “Would you believe this is the first New Year’s I’ll be sober and not strung out?”

Patrick turned and looked at him with those soft eyes. “Oh, David.” He wrapped his arms around him a little tighter. “What did you do the first couple years here?”

“Got drunk and high with Stevie.”

“Right, her 12 bottles of wine, 1 day thing. So it’s not just for Christmas?”

David nodded. “That is correct.” David moved away, towards his overnight bag.

3)  Second ever fic, The Twelve Days Before Christmas plus 2 bonus days

David pulls the chairs out and they sit talking about their day, agreeing Stevie had the worst of them. None of them want to imagine Roland in weird positions on the roof.

They sit and drink and laugh, reminiscing about the last time they did this.

Patrick smiles, “It was when David called me his boyfriend.”

Stevie looks at David and says, “So, do you still excel as a solo artist like Beyoncé, or has that changed?”

David glares at her. “Both. Definitely both.”

4) My pandemic Holiday fic: All I want for Christmas (is Quarantine to End)

“The numbers guy wouldn’t lie to you. I’ve done some renegotiating on things so we could expand our shipping budget, but I’m pretty sure by the end of the year with the holidays coming up we will see a profit.”

David takes a deep breath and tries not to let the tears fall, but they start coming anyway. Patrick soothes him, “It’s okay. I know why you are afraid.” The store is going to be okay and we will get through this. You are not a failure if anything happens. We are not failures.”

5) My Different first meeting AU: Yukon Strike My Heart Ablaze

And are you sure you didn’t accidentally match with Ray?” David smirks and starts to unpack some more candles.

“Mmm. Do I though? I’m pretty sure you’re having me and Stevie help here a lot. And ew, David, don’t ever joke about matching with Ray.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Grab that box of lotions for me.”

6)  Missing scene fic from Friends and Family: I will help you out, if you let me

Patrick notices a smile across David’s face as he embraces David. He can’t help, but feel David’s strong and sturdy chest against his own. The smell of his woodsy cologne with a hint of vanilla.

Hmm, I’ve never thought about that before.

Patrick leans into all these thoughts crowding his mind when the hug goes for a beat too long, but Patrick did not want to break contact with David’s warm body. The lights flicker.

Fuck!

7)  My Kink fic: You Just Wanna Feel What Can’t be Known

David peers out of the closet, “Patience, Patrick.” He gives Patrick a once over. His face giving away the soft smirk, he reserves for Patrick. The way Patrick looks restrained on the bed. He will never not get used to seeing his husband laid out on their bed for him. To have fun with. David never knew sex could be fun and that you can laugh and its okay.

8) Not a fic but I did like the flyers I came up with in Canva for an Abestos Fest

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869462

9)  My first Drabble: Volunteer

“This was not a part of my mood board.” David flips his hands.

10) Another drabble fic: Burst: Happy Edition

“I got the money. Now you can pay me.”

This was so hard especially since apparently now most of my SC fics are drabbles. 

[ponds-of-ink]

FNAF Y/N Drabble: “Talking about Transformations”

This one’s kinda long and took a few days to write. Hope what I’ve got is worth the wait, @hugsforvillains.

Story Context: You are a lucid dreamer who’s been caught in UCN by shared dream shenanigans. You have a few hours to play in Cassidy’s playground before your clock chimes and Cass has to let you go. In the meantime, you’ve been chatting it up with the other “prisoner” here. And, being ever curious about one of Fredbear’s founders, you’ve been interviewing him a bit. It’s all going well until something hits you…

You look up at the rabbit-like figure looking over your shoulder. “So, uh, do you still have a human form or not?” you ask as straightforwardly as you can.

The rabbit raises his security guard cap a little. You can see that his eyelids are practically “non-existent” thanks to your question. With a snap of his fingers, he morphs into a slightly smaller (and much more grungy) version of the same rabbit. “I… I am not sure,” he answers with an uncertain snake-like hiss. “I know I have something reserved for me whenever Springtrap and this Aft— Scraptrap— form are in the same ‘round’. I can assure you, though, it is not human.”

This makes your eyebrows raise. “Well, then, what does that look like?” you question further.

‘Scraptrap’ just sighed and rolled his eyes. With another snap, he practically switches into a violet-colored ghost with an outfit that matched his hat. Something like one of those old arcade game sprites, but much less square-shaped. “I am convinced Golden Freddy’s child was inspired by some of the gaming machines and made this for me,” he admitted, his voice now sounding a lot smoother (if not a bit hollow and echoey). “If that is not the case, then I am as dumbfounded as you.”

You tilt your head, then hum. “It’s a bit better than chatting it up with a moldy old rabbit outfit,” you confess off-handedly, “but I dunno about talking it up with a ghost.”

The ghost sniggers. “You are already dealing with plenty of terrors tonight,” he reasons as he places an arm on your desk. “What harm would one more specter do to you?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt, really,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m just disappointed that I can’t see you like when you were alive. I’ve heard so many things about what you used to look like, it’s kinda hard to keep track.”

William leans closer. “What… have you heard?” he asks with a slight tremor.

“Nothing too crazy, I think,” you respond as you now turn your attention to the character select monitor. “Some say you’re tall and lanky, others say you’re tall but you ate too much pizza. Brunette with silver-blue eyes is the main thing I’ve been reading about, but any hair and eye color could work as long as it matches your kids. There’s also been talk about you having scars along with your lankier body type, but I dunno. You don’t seem like the type to get into fights…”

You hear a chortle after that last remark. You turn your head to see William’s ghostly visage looking a bit more pink in the face as he tries to clear his ‘throat’. “Would it helped if I cleared some of this up?” he asked, giving the most suave grin you’ve ever seen him have.

“Yeah, uh… Sure,” you sputter out, not knowing how else to respond.

William drew himself up to full height. His face still kept that proud smile as he started talking. “These reports aren’t entirely wrong,” he spoke up. “I was rather tall for my time, though I cannot exactly remember my exact height. My hair colour was rather dark when I was in my prime, though I am sure that changed when the early nineties hit.” He paused to laugh at his own little quip, then returned to his monologue. “My eyes were very pale, though silvery-blue may be a bit generous. I think either an ice blue or a steely gray would work better as a description. Something more bland, you know.”

You just nod along with interest.

Satisfied with your lack of retorts, he keeps going. “Now, as for my ‘body type’, as I have heard you call it,” he continues, “that changed a lot over the years. If we are talking about my most infamous era, then that is where the scars and much lankier frame come into play. Had to deal with loose skin too, if I remember correctly. That made it really hard to fit into a Springbonnie suit twice ‘Dave’s’ size.”

You raise an eyebrow at ‘Dave’, but you keep nodding. It’s too soon to ask about a villain’s alter egos, you figure.

“As for my Fredbear days,” the ghost continues with a more timid tone, “then the other reports were right. I was a… hm… rotund figure back then. Blame my enthusiasm for eating meals other than baked beans and all of that bleak rubbish, I suppose. My weight did rebound a bit near the end of my life, but nothing too… pear-ish.”

You decide to brush off those last remarks and just lean back in your seat. You shut your eyes and bob your head a few times. In general, he was brunette with pale eyes. As ‘Dave’, he had the bone-thin frame and scars a few forums brought up. Then, back before all of this happened, he had some extra pounds on him. You took all this info in, then opened your eyes. “I think that helps,” you smile at him. “Thanks.”

“You are very welcome,” William grins back, bowing like an actor after a perfect performance. “Now, let’s return to what we’re really here for.”

You nod, but not with the same smile as before. In fact, more questions buzzed as you stared at the screen. You select your desired characters, set their power level to one, then hit “Start”. You lean back in your seat for a moment. Your eyes bounce from your surroundings to your fellow ‘player’. You lock eye contact with each other, then refocus on your surroundings. At least he noticed your change in mood instead of immediately jumping into fight-or-flight again.

After a minute or two of mutual silence, you sigh. All right. Time to get this off your chest. “I’ve got a quick question for you, Mr. Afton,” you pipe up.

You can feel him looming over your shoulder again. “Yes, what is it?” he asks with that posh accent of his.

“If this UCN stuff is actually based on memories, and if you can remember what you looked like, then… why don’t you use your knowledge to change into one of the ‘you’s from before?”

The looming feeling quickly fades. You look behind to see a beet-red William tugging his tie. You watch him try to sputter something out, but the words aren’t coming. By one (kind of) simple question, you’ve absolutely flustered a villain known for being a smooth talker. And, to be quite honest, you’re not sure if you should be proud of yourself or start making your way towards Golden Freddy’s office.

Thankfully, William streamlined those emotions very quickly. “B-Because my powers are limited here,” he explained with an extremely shaky grin. “Golden Freddy can only give me certain things to either make things more ‘fun’ for him, or something that will not make me pester him. The ability to change appearances at all falls into the second category.”

You almost nod in understanding, but then you shake your head. “So, you’re saying Golden Freddy wouldn’t like you showing up here exactly as you were when you wrecked his kid’s life?” you ask as you check your camera system. “That’d be a missed opportunity if I were that kid. Letting my own arch-enemy roll up in here with the exact outfit and stuff while he goes through something I would’ve like to have done to ‘im back then. No offense to you, I guess, but it’s just kinda weird.”

You don’t hear any replies as you check the vents. Uh, oh. Was he mad at you or was he regretting making up an excuse on the fly (if that was an excuse)? You look over your shoulder. No, he’s not mad. He’s just… contemplating. Very miserably.

The clock chimes throughout the halls. You celebrate by spinning around in your office chair as that upbeat music blares through the monitor speakers. After you recover from any motion sickness your dream-traveling body could’ve picked up, you look up at the character select screen. It’s the usual “here’s your reward!” message, but something new catches your eye. You squint to read the added smaller text.

All you can see is “Psst: He can do it. He’s just being a big crybaby” with a wink emoticon.

You click away the message, returning you to the main select screen. You look back at Afton still contemplating in a hunched-over state. “So, uh, I think Golden Freddy just corrected you on that explanation,” you say, gesturing to the screen. “Got a bonus message from him and it basically said ‘He can shapeshift into a human, but he’s being too whiny’.”

William lowers his head into his hands. He heaved a very frustrated sigh.

“Is Golden Freddy right, though?” you ask with a slight grimace. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions…”

“No, he is,” Afton responds at last, straightening his posture a little. “I would not exactly say that I’m being ‘whiny’ about this whole ‘returning to my old self’ idea. A bit too nervous? Definitely. Almost to the point of ‘being a crybaby’, as I am sure Golden Freddy would put it? …I hate to admit this, but that is also true. I am upset and I will most likely have a breakdown if this is forced upon me in the next few minutes.”

You blink rapidly for a few seconds. “Wh… Why??” you inquire in the most baffled tone you’ve ever had.

Afton rubs his ghostly face with his hands, then puts his palms together. “Because, quite frankly, I am appalled by the idea of anyone seeing me as I once was— be it during my time at Fredbear’s or as ‘Dave’,” he explained wearily. “Call it a twisted sense of vanity. Call it a severe lack of trust. You could even call it an unnecessary fear of someone spotting some minuscule detail like a chipped tooth or an eye slightly slacking for all I care. Whatever the reason, whatever the instinct this whole conversation has revived, the bottom line remains the same: I am mortified about anyone seeing me as anything other than a rotting rabbit, as strange as that sounds.”

You try to process his words, but your brain has fried. Your eyes shut. You pinch the bridge of your nose, as if that would somehow help. “So… you’re… scared about anyone finding out what you looked like when you were alive?” you repeat slowly, praying that you were at least close.

A weak chuckle from him gives you some assurance. “That is a… concise way to put it,” he answers a little more sheepishly than you expected.

You stare at the ghostly visage with one eye open. “I wouldn’t be too worried, honestly,” you reason, gradually regaining confidence. “It’s just lil’ old dream-walking me tonight, and I’m probably going to forget most of this tomorrow morning anyway.”

William’s eyes widen. His white pupils shift from side to side. “That is a good point,” he mutters to himself. He breaths deeply, then straightens his posture. “All right,” he says aloud, “which variant would you like to see first?”

Your eyes brighten. “Well, uh, how’s about ‘Dave’?” you ask in return. “He sounds like an interesting guy.”

William only murmurs in reply. He takes a few steps back, closes his eyes, then snaps his fingers. The typical purple flash of light appears, but it’s much slower than usual. You can just barely see a bit of the transformation, even though the glow blocks out most of it.

When the light fades away, an actually human William appears. Everything about him pretty much matches the description he gave you, save for a couple of extra details like unkept hair or dark circles under the eyes.

But does that stop you from wriggling in your seat like a worm on a hook? Nope. Not one bit.

And Wil— “Dave” notices that very quickly. “Heh, looks like I’ve made you quite antsy already,” he grins crookedly, his accent shifting to a more Utahn style. “Dunno if that means I’m still quite a ‘catch’ or if you’re scared of me.”

You snap out of your hyped-up state for a moment. “I’m just so happy to see you (kinda) in the flesh!” you cry out, gesturing towards the man wildly. “It’s just so satisfying putting all these rumors to rest, y’know?”

“Glad to be of service, then,” ‘Dave’ smiles proudly, straightening his off-centered tie. Then, his gray-blue eyes shimmer. “I wonder if the others’ll know it’s me,” he says with a more mischievous air. “Some of ‘em might, but all of ‘em? Pssh. The timeframe’s too skewed.”

You look back at the character select screen. “You wanna try all fifty of them set to one?” you ask slowly, a chill creeping up onto your back.

Your ears catch a faint hum. “Sure,” you hear ‘Dave’ say, back to towering over you. “Let’s go for it. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

After some setup, you activate Fifty-One Mode. You instantly check the cameras, flicking the feed from room to room. For this round, you decide to let ‘Dave’ be your alarm system. Any yelp or wince from him, and you take care of the problem as fast as you can. This proves to be a proper strategy, since his new voice is a lot louder (and a smidge… whinier?) than the last few times. After a few minutes, you sit back in your chair as the clock chimes victory once again. “Did any of that prove your theory?” you ask, looking over at the grungy man practically in a cold sweat.

‘Dave’ wipes the sweat off his brow. “Think all o’ that just disproved it,” he pants hoarsely. “Thanks to Goldie, they know it’s me. An absolute shame.”

You tap your foot rhythmically. “What about you during your time at Fredbear’s?” you question him. “Not many of them would’ve been made back then.”

‘Dave’ shakes his head with that crooked grin. “They’d still know,” he sniggers. “Goldie’s making sure of that.”

“Can I… at least see what you looked like?” you press further, leaning forward in your chair. “I mean, we were supposed to do that anyway.”

You watched as “Dave’s” face burned a pale shade of red. His smile turns into a poorly-hidden grimace. “Not to back out of a deal,” he sputters out, “but I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see such a… big man.”

“…You’ve gotta be more specific with that word with me,” you tell him gently, your own voice mixed with mild embarrassment and annoyance. “What kind of ‘big’ are we talking about here? ‘Big’ as in status? ‘Big’ as in being taller than now? ‘Big’ is in—?“ You cut yourself. Your eyes widen. A part of your earlier discussion flickers in your mind.

“…the other reports were right. I was a… hm… rotund figure back then…”

Oh.

Oh, how were you this stupid whenever you dream-walked?

You lightly shake your head, as if stirring yourself out of a trance. “Never mind, I think I get it now,” you say hoarsely, raising a hand as if to physically stop ‘Dave’ from answering. “If you’re worried showing a little bit of chub, then don’t be. I’ve—“

“Dave” wordlessly steps closer. “It’s not just a bit of chub,” he retorts with a sneer. “Why else do you think I said something about my sagging skin?” He gestures to his shirt sleeve, which does seem to droop in places where it’s not supposed to. “An unfortunate downside for most with drastic weight loss, sure, but my alternative is far worse,” he huffs as he readjusts his shirt cuff out of habit. “To ‘show off’ my even younger self— This disgustingly podgy pear of a man— would be an absolute repulsion to you! I may not know you personally, but I have seen enough to know that this scrawny and scarred figure is optimal when it comes to your aesthetics.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second. You try to stammer out a reply, but that speech fried your brain even more than the other monologue. All you can do is bury your head into your hands and groan. “I hate to ask this,” you squeak out at last, “but how’d you come to that conclusion?”

You hear a bitter chuckle that runs through your spine. “Simple,” you hear him answer. “Many, many years of experience. Some as myself, some as ‘Dave’, and some as a shambling robot. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about my Fredbear-era body, it’s this: No one wants to see that fat figure again. Or for the first time, if you want to apply my knowledge to your little forum friends.”

Even though you’re only in a dream-like state, you can feel your blood boiling. You sit back upright and look him dead in the eyes. “Bet,” you say sternly.

Now it’s “Dave’s” turn to raise an eyebrow. “‘Bet’?” he repeats back, resting an arm on the desk. “What in the world is there to bet? Putting you in a coma while I walk to my actual fate scot-free? Please! As if Goldie would allow that!”

“I’m just saying that I want to challenge your bluff,” you explain, keeping your tone firm and cold. “You change into your Fredbear’s self, I gauge my own reaction. If I don’t feel like I want to throw up, then you just made the dumbest guess about anybody I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re saying that I misjudged you?”

“I’m saying you misjudged yourself— Well, when it comes to this.”

You watch “Dave’s” expression shift from irritation to shock to nonchalance. All within a minute. “All right,” he scoffs, lifting his arm from the desk. “I have put this off long enough. However, I’m not going to take back what I said before.” With that as his final warning, ‘Dave’ disappeared in that same purple glow.

Your heart thumps. This is it. Your chance to prove all those doubts of his wrong. You watch the glow much closer now, impatiently hoping to at least get a hint of what’s to come.

Once the glow fades, William reappears in his Fredbear Era form. You double-take in spite of yourself. Not only is he his usually tall self, but now he’s also very chubby. Like a giant, overstuffed teddy bear ready to snuggle the person it loves, but human. A human that, while you were getting your bearings, inspected his new body as if he were trying on an outfit in front of the mirror. “Tsk, tsk,” you catch him mumbling in a warmer version of his ghostly voice, using that as your way of refocusing your attention. “Still as potbellied as I remember. A good thing that this suit adjusts along with me…”

You clear your throat, making him lock eyes with you. “I’ve been looking at you for a few seconds now, Mr. Afton,” you tell him with your smuggest expression. “And guess what? I don’t feel sick or disgusted at all. Surprised, sure, but that’s probably a given.”

William put a hand to his stomach. “If that’s true, then perhaps I am well-loved like I am well-fed,” he chuckles sheepishly, patting his stomach to emphasize the last word. “I… I almost want to switch places with you and see how the chair acts under my new weight, but I have a feeling it will not end well.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!” you call out, bouncing up from your chair with renewed vigor. “If it could hold two versions of the same bulky rabbit, I’m sure it’ll handle you just fine!”

You give Afton some room as he settles into your office seat. It buckles and creaks a little, but not as much as when it did with Springtrap. You get closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What’d I tell you?” you smile. “That bad boy can—“

The chair creaks and buckles even louder, sounding both of your alarm bells. You reposition yourself so that you can help him get up to his feet, but it’s too late. The chair cracks under his weight, causing him to crash onto the floor and you to almost lose your balance. Thankfully, you recenter yourself just in time. “Are you okay?” you ask him, holding out your arm. “Do you need help getting up?”

William shakes his head, then rolls his eyes with a defeated groan. “It is a miracle nothing else broke,” he muses, putting a hand to his stomach again. “Otherwise, I would have much more than a crushed chair and a bruised bottom to deal with.”

You glance back at the character select screen out of curiosity. The only thing new is a pop up that reads: “You guys were getting kinda boring, so I decided to shake things up. Thanks for switching seats.”

Now it was your turn to sigh deeply in frustration. Well, there went the whole idea of helping Mr. Afton get more comfortable in his new body…

[romugh]

KINKTOBER '24 - OVERVIEW

oi! october is js around the corner, and that means kinktober season!! it's my first ever kinktober event, so don't be too harsh on me, i'm excited to see where this goes! i’ve put together a diverse and exciting (and spicy!) lineup for y'all. i will be testing myself and push myself out of my comfort zone, but bare with me! i genuinely couldn't choose what prompts to take, so i mixed and matched some from the previous years as well as new ones. very elaborate but i hope you'll like it! if you'd like to be tagged in some of these fics, feel free to comment or message me!

🍵 minors don't interact! for the rest of y'all, please be aware and mindful of warnings and tags before reading!

🍵 all fics will be top!reader x bottom!y (unless specified otherwise in content.)

🍵 anything related to this event will be tagged as 'romugh's kt '24' :)

🍵 i won't be posting any fics on monday, my uni + work schedule cannot take that... unless i somehow magically find time to pre-write more, this is the schedule and planning for my kinktober! i'll update this masterlist with the link and more info through this month, i'll let y'all know once that's done!

🍵 these fics may vary in length! i'm usually someone who tries to get to at least 2k words in, but some days may just be drabbles if i'm struggling with the timing! word counts will be added to this masterlist as soon as i can :)

— day one (01, oct)``` knife play, gun play, blood kink with natasha romanoff | crimson desires - villain!reader

synopsis- natasha is the reason you fail a mission. no matter how many times you've messed with hers, you never made her fail one. you're keen on making her understand what it's like to mess with you.

content- 18+!!; dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!natasha, blood kink, knife play (and kink lol), gun play, strappie (n rcv), blowie (r rcv), daddy kink (oops?), humiliation kink, praise kink, filthy rough sex, bondage (light), carving (no pumpkin, sorry...), spanking (light), knife in a mouth??, natasha passing out!

— day two (02, oct)``` cloned pleasure, double penetration with natasha romanoff | two of a kind - scarletwitch!reader

synopsis- filth. i'll think about this later, but this is PURE PORN.

content- 18+!!; dom!top!reader + clone lol, sub!bottom!natasha, double penetration, mommy kink (reader), daddy kink (clone), breeding, creampie (i'm not sorry), all kinds of positions icl, strappie (r wearing), blowie (clone rcv?), thigh job!! , rough, crying (n). pure porn actually, no plot at all. i think those are all the warnings... CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THESE LOL; anal, dp in 1, dp in 2 !!

— day three (04, oct)``` office sex, exhibitionism, hair pulling with natalie rushman | corporate affairs - CEO!reader

synopsis-

content-

— day four (05, oct)``` phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control with natasha romanoff | sensual frequenties - avenger!reader

synopsis- natasha misses you when you're away on a mission, so she takes you up on that "i'm just a phone call away if you get stuck" (except she's not stuck, she's hard, and she needs you to make it better).

content- 18+!!; top!reader, g!p!bottom!natasha, phone sex, heavyyy praise kink, orgasm control, orgasm denial, mommy kink (SHE/HER PRONOUNS USED ONCE FOR READER i think) edging, slight degradation, 6k of pure phone sex guys, the beloved fleshlight making an appearance! natty would definitely give it a name tbh

— day five (08, oct)``` bondage, blindfold, abs riding, edging and denial with natasha romanoff | bound to deny - avenger!reader

synopsis-

content-

— day six (09, oct)``` classroom sex, role reversal/roleplay, power exchange with natasha romanoff | teacher's pet? no, student's pet! - student!reader

synopsis- it's been a few weeks since your 'confrontation'. what has changed? what will change?

content- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29 - not specified), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight exhibitionism (?), praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, classroom sex, breeding!!, creampie (i'm a slut)

— day seven (10, oct)``` public tease, temperature play with natasha romanoff | public distractions - avenger!reader

synopsis-

content-

— day eight (12, oct)``` humiliation, filming, spanking, sensory deprivation with barbara sugarman | cinematic seduction - fem!reader

synopsis- after an accidental photo reveals a hidden desire, Barbara and you dive headfirst into a wild night of passionate exploration that blurs the lines of boundaries. what had begun as a playful mistake quickly transforms into revealing your deepest fantasies and desires.

content- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!barbara, sight humiliation, filming, photographing?, eating out (from behind!! cheeeers), strappie (b rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight daddy kink if you squint? but like, dont blink or you'll miss it...

— day nine (15, oct)``` sex pollen, breeding kink, cockwarming, unprotected sex with natasha romanoff | shall we play a game? - g!p!reader

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— day ten (16, oct)``` car sex, innocence, uniform with natasha romanoff | buttoned up, let loose - play'boy'!reader

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— day eleven (17, oct)``` strip club, strip tease, lap dance, lingerie with barbara sugarman | laced temptation - fem!reader

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— day twelve (19, oct)``` monsterfucking, tentacle (?) sex, stomach bulge with natasha romanoff | sweet on the tip of my tongue - venom!reader

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— day thirteen (22, oct)``` staying warm, hate sex, size kink with natasha romanoff | shut up and listen - villain!reader

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— day fourteen (23, oct)``` stress relief, free use, friends with benefits with natasha romanoff | running in circles - medic!reader

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— day fifteen (25, oct)``` mile high club, secret relationship, exhibitionism with scarlett johansson | fuck me like i'm famous - famous!reader

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— day sixteen (27, oct)``` office sex, cockstrapwarming, exhibitionism with scarlett johansson | she's on the floor rolling her eyes at me - fem!reader

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— day seventeen (30, oct)``` magic cock (literally), breeding kink with natasha romanoff | arcane genesis - fem!reader with magic peepee?

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[dntaewithluv]

Pretty Little Things | kth

Your husband is determined to make things up to you after falling asleep on your anniversary and missing out on the surprise you had planned for him...

💎 Pairing: husband!taehyung x reader

💎 Word Count: 2.4k

💎 Rating: 18+

💎 Genre: Husband au, anniverysary au, smut, fluff

💎 Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (this one is straight into the smut lol), oral (f receiving), making out, hair pulling, dirty talk, marking/biting, groping, scratching, cum eating, brief handjob, teasing, unprotected sex (be safe out there pls), multiple orgasms, dresser sex that’s also mirror sex, brief spanking, mention of possessiveness, brief choking, rough sex, but also they’re married and so in love with each other so it’s also soft™️

A/N: So funny story, I actually wrote most of this immediately after writing and posting Pillow Prince, but I went into a creative and writing slump right after, so I never felt motivated or inspired enough to finish it. Until now that is, thank you Grammy’s Tae 🙏 This is technically the follow up to the Pillow Prince drabble, but it also can just be read as a standalone anniversary drabble too. This is the first time I’ve been able to write in months, so hopefully that means I’m coming out of this rut and will be able to get back to writing more regularly and consistently soon! Thank you as always for your love and support and understanding and patience, and I hope you enjoy this if you decide to read it 💜 Also my possums as always have been so supportive and encouraging to me during this difficult time of struggling to write and I love and appreciate all of you endlessly 🥺 Especially @thatlongspringnight and @miscelunaaa for giving me encouragement and advice when I was feeling so stuck, I truly couldn't have finished this without both of you 🥰Last thing is that since this starts off with the smut immediately the fic will be under the cut!!

Masterlist

"I cannot believe you didn't wake me up for this."

"Baby, you've been, fuck, working so hard this week. You deserved to just rest, oh God Taehyung."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to carry on any kind of conversation when you were propped up against the mirror of your dresser with your husband's head between your legs.

It was the day after your official anniversary, and since Taehyung had passed out on the couch last night, you had decided to try to give him his surprise as soon as he walked in the door from the gym. This had resulted in your husband literally rushing you to scoop you into his arms bridal style before carrying you into your bedroom and setting you on top of the dresser.

His fingers had quickly undone the barely there knot of your black silk robe, greedy hands and sinful mouth immediately descending on your exposed skin. Teasing and torturing you until he had finally settled at your dripping core, diving in to taste you without a moment of hesitation.

Your nails dug into his scalp as you tugged at his soft strands. His hair was still partially pulled back into a ponytail from his workout earlier, and the visual you were treated to every time you glanced down had you coming undone under his skilled mouth that much faster.

"Tae...baby...stop for a minute…please." you panted out, and your husband was instantly surfacing from your cunt, lips glossy with you.

"Baby, what is it? Did I hurt you?" Taehyung asked, eyes reflecting the concern in his voice.

You shook your head as you tried to regain your composure, "No, nothing like that, I promise. It's just that, this was supposed to be your present. Soooo shouldn't I be the one going down on you?"

Your husband chuckled at that, briefly flashing his boxy grin. He stood up fully before capturing your lips in a messy kiss, and you moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Taehyung pulled back slowly, teeth nipping and dragging out your bottom lip as he did so.

"Your pleasure is my gift. I can't think of a better anniversary present than making my beautiful and amazing wife come for me." he said, voice raspy as he leaned his forehead against your own.

Your breaths mingled together as Taehyung gripped your thighs, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin.

"I love you so much, Tae." you murmured into the small space between you as you trailed your fingertips up and down his arms.

"Mmm, I love you, baby. And I want you," your sharp gasp pierced the air as his fingers ghosted over your clit, "to come for me."

His teeth grazed your ear at the same time that you felt his touch circling your bundle of nerves again.

"You know, I worked up quite an appetite from the gym. And what I'm craving is, your sweet little cunt."

His words fell like the sweetest honey on your ears, and your walls constricted around nothing. Taehyung's gaze sent heat coursing through your body in every direction, his dark eyes trained on you as he lowered himself until his face was situated back between your legs.

"You might wanna hold onto something." he suggested, voice coming out slightly muffled.

Confusion washed over you, "Wait, why? Ahhh Tae!"

You squeaked in surprise, hands shooting out to grip the dresser on either side as Taehyung yanked you down to bury his face in your cunt once again. His hands dug harshly into your ass, practically suctioning you against his face.

He groaned, beautiful and deep, as he drank you in, and the vibration had your nails scratching against the wood frantically.

"Fuck, Taehyung. Oh God."

Your thighs threatened to lock around your husband's head as he continued fucking you vigorously with his tongue. His nose kept bumping against your aching clit, and you whimpered at the stimulation.

"Shit, baby. I'm close." you hissed, your head falling back against the mirror as your legs began to shake.

Taehyung grunted in response before switching his attention to focus on your clit. His lips closed around your bundle of nerves as he sucked it into the wet warmth of his mouth, sending sparks, bright and hot, shooting through you.

"Tae. Tae Tae Tae…"

You chanted his name over and over again, the weight of it on your lips the only thing keeping you grounded in reality, and not floating out of your body in ecstasy.

"Let go for me, baby. I wanna fucking taste you." Taehyung growled against you, and you could feel yourself starting to unravel with each swift flick of your husband's tongue.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, Taeeeeeeee." you keened, the thread inside of you running out faster and faster.

He suddenly nipped sharply at your bud, and you shrieked as stars flooded your vision, soaking Taehyung's face and shirt with your release. Your husband moaned into your cunt before sucking and slurping at your messy folds, determined to clean you up until you were writhing in oversensitivity and weakly trying to push his head away.

He chuckled warmly, pressing adoring kisses all over your thighs and stomach as you tried to clear the post orgasm fog from your mind.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?"

"There's one more thing I want for our anniversary."

"What's that, my love?" you asked breathlessly, Taehyung mouthing lazily against your neck.

"I want to feel my wife cum all over my cock. And, I want you to hop down and face the mirror, so you can see exactly what I’m doing to you. Think you can do that for me, baby?”

“Hmm.” you hummed as he slid the robe that was still barely hanging on your figure all the way off your shoulders, heat immediately blooming across your newly exposed skin as Taehyung’s lips moved over you, “Anything for my husband.”

Nothing turned you and Taehyung on more than the constant reminder that you were married, and belonged only to each other. It was evident in the way that Taehyung’s teeth had sunk into your shoulder as soon as the word had left your mouth. Before you knew it, you were being lifted into the air yet again, and then set down on the floor just as quickly. Your husband wasted no time as he tugged his t-shirt over his head and stepped out of his gym shorts and boxers.

Your mouth salivated at the sight of your very gorgeous and very naked spouse. You reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you slipped off your heels, now completely bare except for the dazzling diamond necklace that rested just above your breasts. Taehyung shamelessly ogled you, his eyes growing another shade darker as they focused on the jewels littering your neck and chest.

“I see you’re wearing your anniversary present.” he spoke up, deep voice distorted with want.

"Correction." you started, and Taehyung tensed as you ran your fingertips teasingly over his hard length, "I'm only wearing your anniversary present."

Your hand wrapped around his cock, and you began stroking him in earnest. You could literally hear the groan starting to rumble in your husband's throat.

"Fuck. Don't tease. I don’t wanna end up breaking our brand new dresser that your parents got us for Christmas, or you.” he warned, a devious smirk creeping across his features.

“Well, my love, I wouldn’t need to tease if my husband would just hurry up and fuck me already.” you challenged back, your hand pumping him faster.

You barely had time to register large hands wrapping around your waist and twisting you around to face the mirror on the dresser. Taehyung’s reflection loomed over you, looking like sin incarnate as his gaze found your own in the glass. Your hands curled around the wood in anticipation, nails digging in at the feeling of Taehyung’s cock prodding at your soaking entrance.

“Fuck. Tae?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Take your hair down.”

It was more a command than a request, and your husband’s smug grin stared back at you from the mirror.

“Mmm, and why’s that?”

“So I have something to hold onto.” you answered simply, reflecting a knowing look back at him.

Your eyes were glued to the glass as Taehyung reached up to undo his ponytail, gorgeous, long, dark locks falling to frame his handsome face. His teeth tugged at your ear as you felt him start to push into you, "Happy Anniversary, baby."

"Fucking shit, Tae." you swore as he sank further between your walls.

It didn't matter how many times your husband had fucked you, you still always loved the way his cock split you open. The all too familiar and delicious stretch already had pleasure blooming across your senses. Taehyung grunted behind you once he had buried himself in you completely, and the two of you looked back at your reflections for several moments.

Something about actually being able to see what you were doing to each other had you already clenching around him as a shiver ran through you.

"What's the matter, baby? You look so fucked out already," your husband in the mirror taunted as his lips dragged over the skin of your neck, and one of his large hands reached around to grope your breast, "and I'm just barely getting started with you."

You chuckled and swallowed the moan threatening to escape when Taehyung pinched your nipple between his fingers.

"I could say the same for you. What's the matter, baby? The gym must have really kicked your ass today if you can't even fuck your own wi-"

You were cut off by your own squeal in response to the harsh slap that Taehyung delivered to your ass.

"The real work out is getting my wife to fucking behave." he huffed out before swatting you again.

It was impossible to miss the way your face contorted in pleasure in the glass.

"Fuck. You know I have to keep my husband on his toes." you retorted, one of your hands reaching back to snake into his hair.

Taehyung hissed as your nails scraped against his scalp, “To be fair, you definitely managed that with your little anniversary surprise.”

Your proud little smile was mirrored back at you, along with the image of your husband’s hand once again sliding up your figure. You could almost make out the goosebumps left behind by his touch in the reflection. His long, slender fingers traveled higher still, fiddling with his anniversary present that adorned your bare skin.

Your breath hitched as his digits curled around the jewels with a hint of possessiveness, his hungry eyes seeking out your own in the mirror. Taehyung brought his mouth to your ear, the man in the glass a dark and sinister presence towering over your much smaller and shaking figure.

"Such a pretty little thing," he whispered, hand fully tangling in the chain of diamonds and reaching higher until his fingers were splayed across your throat, "and all mine."

You let out a shameless moan as you let your head fall back against his chest, your free hand that wasn't pulling at his wavy strands struggling to find purchase on the dresser in front of you. You felt the drag of your husband's cock inside you as he started to slowly draw back out.

"Fuck, baby. You're so sexy. I love you so much, I'm so lucky." Taehyung rasped in your ear before slamming back into you, his hand around your neck tightening just slightly.

A surprised gasp left your lips as you were literally rocked forward by the force of his thrust.

"Shit." you cursed, followed by a series of giggles as the dresser rattled from Taehyung's movements.

Your husband chuckled behind you, "So maybe us breaking the dresser wasn't actually a joke after all."

You spent a moment taking in the couple being reflected back to you. The two people breathing hard and laughing slightly. The husband and wife, who in their passionate desperation to fuck, had failed to account for the mechanics of having rough sex against a piece of furniture.

"Yeah, uh, this was hot in theory, but I really don't wanna end up hurting you." Taehyung spoke up again, his voice much softer this time and laced with his concern for you.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw since it was all you could reach at the moment.

"Why don't we take this to the bed so you can fuck me like you mean it?" you suggested, teeth nibbling along his perfect jawline.

You had barely processed the growl that slipped out from the man behind you before you felt Taehyung's cock slipping from you as you were once again being maneuvered into the air. Your back was hitting the plush sheets of your bed moments later, with your husband's weight immediately descending upon you.

He wasted no time before burying himself inside you once again, and you cried out as your hands clutched at his back. With the dresser no longer an issue, Taehyung easily started back up with his harsh punishing thrusts. Your screams and moans filled the space between you and mixed with his own sounds of pleasure and exertion. You held onto each other so tightly that both of you were sure to have marks from the other in the morning.

You were both already so wound up from all the teasing and foreplay that you knew it wouldn't be long before you were reaching your high together. Taehyung was giving you everything he had, and you tried to reciprocate as best as you could with the energy you had left.

Your orgasm overtook you so suddenly that you couldn't even warn him, but you didn't have to because your husband was following right behind you. You came right after each other with his hand once again twisted in diamonds and wrapped around your neck, breathless "I love yous" dying on both of your lips.

Taehyung carefully collapsed on top of you a moment later, bodies sticking together as both of your chests heaved up and down. You held him close to you as your fingers gently threaded through his wild and messy hair. Your husband hummed against your skin, his own digits lazily drawing patterns into your side.

"Please don't ever let me sleep through an anniversary present again." he mumbled quietly, and you could hear the sleepiness in his voice.

You gave a weak laugh, jostling Taehyung slightly, "Okay, my love, it's a promise."

[aceie-desire]

Hello again! Lemme get a writing request in too while I'm at it, hehe. :3 You got any househusband octotrio headcanons? I'm always starving for some seafood.

Househusband Octotrio Drabble Headcanon Thingies

✎ Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech

☁︎ Fluffy

⚠︎ Warnings: Slight suggestiveness in Jades part.

☆ Notes: I sat and stared at this for an hour before I could start writing. writers block kinda sucks ngl, but i did try my best!! so i hope you enjoy lol

! Word Count: 650ish

Azul

He hates to just sit around, especially when he thinks there’s more to do. He loves to keep busy, he always has to be doing something.

It doesn’t all have to be manual labor though, he might spend hours looking up recipes that he’d think you’d enjoy, or taking extra classes, like a cooking or spend some time peacefully gardening.

He likes to pack your lunch every morning, and he’ll always add a lot bit of your favorite snack to give you a boost of energy to get through the day

He’s always overworking himself, and ignoring his needs. Like rest.

“Ah, y/n, you’re home early. What a surprise…”

“Are you okay Azul, you look like you’re drenched in sweat- Are you coming down with a fever…?”

“No I feel fine,” He reassured you.

“You’ve been overworking yourself too much then.”

“I have not. I’ve just been doing what needs to be done.” He scolded, trying to prove a point.

“Come on, I’ll cook dinner today, it’s your turn to rest.”

“But you’ve been at work all day- It’s fine really-!”

“And you’ve been cleaning all day, it’s your turn to take a break.”

“Thank you y/n… I appreciate it.” He sighed with a smile, knowing that arguing was futile.

Jade

An absolute clean freak, but in a chaotic way. You’ve never seen anyone scrub a toilet with so much energy and effort but with such a stoic yet smiley face.

He might leave things out a bit if he gets preoccupied with something else, like he’ll leave the faucet on for hours while he’s vacuuming, or he’ll leave out a carton of milked cause he remember that he needed to clean the windows.

But he likes to work by himself, you’ll offer to help but he can be stubborn when he wants to, so you cave, and right after you tell him that the sink is on fire, for the 3rd time that week. It was a Tuesday.

He loves to welcome you home from work with kind gestures, like preparing a surprise picnic, or giving you a massage if you mention that you’re sore.

“Ah… Please be gentle, Jade.”

“Of course, y/n…”

“Uggh…Not so hard!”

“I apologize it’s hard to contain myself when you’re… like this.”

“Jade! It- it hurts! But it feels so good.”

“I know y/n, trust in me.”

“Nngh…Azul was right, you really do give great shoulder massages.”

And poor Grimm was outside your door wanting to ask you something, traumatized. Ngl, situations like that happen quite frequently.

Floyd

Your shelved are filled with random things he finds at markets or thrift stores. Including a very creepy doll that you swear you saw blink.

But Floyd calls it his treasure so you just shrug and let him continue his collection. He is a bit of a hoarder though and you need to help him sort through a bunch of things.

You try the pile method but he ends up putting everything in the maybe it the keep pile. You get absolutely no where.

He hates being bored but he won’t do a lot of extra work, so he’ll go out and find more things, like little nicknacks that he says reminds him of you. …Like a cartoon squirrel easy-bake-oven. You decide to take it in stride.

He also breaks things quite a bit, he tries to fix them for the most part, but sometimes he just gives up and will put broken dishes back in the cabinets.

“Why are all of our dishes broken..?”

“They’re not broken, now we have dinner ware for 57 more little shrimpies!”

“…When are we inviting 57 shrimp over dinner?”

“Next Wednesday, do you not check the calendar? We put it up for a reason.”

“…My bad..?”

requests are open!!