#I'll keep writing drabbles as long as I have prompts for them

[captain-huggy-bear]

Congratulations on 1,000 followers! Can you please do Michael Kesselring + “I'm sorry I was so grumpy last night.” can I also request that the reader is pregnant in this prompt?

Dad!Michael makes me happy <3 He's also looking so good lately...don't tell Clayton. 1000 Followers Celly Currently ongoing 🥳🎉 (please read the rules) Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You wake to kisses being pressed across your face; little pecks to your cheeks, your nose, your chin before Michael's hand grasps your chin and pulls you into a kiss. It's the sort of wake up that has you smiling even as your back hurts and your baby kicks you like she's trying to decide whether to be in the NFL or Rugby Union.

"Morning, baby," He mumbles against your lips, sugary sweet, as you blink your eyes open to take him in. He's gorgeous in the mornings; curls across his forehead, chain swinging towards you, chest bare and tattoos on display.

"Morning..." You sigh as he leans over you, waking up a little more, smile dropping as you remember that night before, how grumpy you'd been, how snappy. “I'm sorry I was so grumpy last night.”

Michael helps you to sit up, pillows being plumped behind your back to support you as you move. Your belly making everything 10 times harder as you get closer and closer to your due date.

The grin he gives you is a little goofy, forgiving and sweet as he pulls one of your ankles into his lap, long fingers massaging the swollen area without being asked, without being told.

"'s okay, baby...you're kind of carrying an entire human in you right now. I'd probably be grumpy too." If anything his forgiveness and understanding makes you feel guiltier, like you need to explain your behaviour because you were a real terror last night and Michael's been nothing but wonderful the entire pregnancy.

"I just... she was kicking real hard last night and I was tired and hungry but I can't have half the things I'm craving because it makes me sick..." Your favourite foods had become inedible, even the smell of some of them made you queasy. An unfortunate symptom of your pregnancy and Michael had promised to bring you all your favourite foods for your first meal after giving birth.

Your eyes shift away from him out of guilt, Michael's hand stills on your ankle, "Hey, look at me."

You flick your eyes back to him, rewarded with your ankle massage ongoing, pressing into the tightness there, "You don't have to explain, I get it. I mean, I don't get it because I'm not pregnant, but I understand. You feeling better this morning, mama?"

"A little...I'm just really tired." You feel like staying in bed all day, not moving, just curling under the covers for an entire day until you feel like maybe you have some energy again.

"I know, but you've got to get your body moving, baby, the doctor said you can't be lying down too much."

"I know..." You hate that he's right. You'd been told to stay active, that not moving would make birth ten times harder on your body, but it didn't make it any easier to keep active when you were so goddamn tired all the time.

"What if you came to the rink with me? To see the boys?" He's pulling out the big guns because Michael knows you love going to the rink, you love watching practices and most of all you love the team. The guys treat you so well that sometime Michael has to remind himself that you're married to him, that he doesn't need to worry.

"Yeah?" He considers it a victory the moment you start smiling at him even if you haven't agreed yet.

"Mmm, and after at least 5 of 'em will try to buy you lunch but I'll do it because I'm your husband and that's my job," You can already imagine the scramble to pay for your lunch, the rush to hold doors for you. Each of the guys has been overly considerate of you since your pregnancy was announced, attentive to the point of overbearing like having a hockey team of brothers, uncles and fathers.

"Yeah? Subway?"

"If that's what you want or Wendy's or Taco Bell or anything you want." Michael scoots up nearer to you at the head of the bed, hand reaching out to cup your cheek and brush a few strands of your hair behind your ear.

"Do you think Logan will wear those stupid sunglasses for me?"

"Do you want him too?"

"Yeah, he looks silly in them, makes me smile."

"Give me a sec..." He's already reaching for his phone, shooting off a text message to Cools to demand he wear those ridiculous shades to make you smile. The response is quick, one word, a simple yes because Logan Cooley has no issues having a bit of fun if it makes you smile.

Michael grins at you, thumb brushing against your jaw, "Yeah, he's gonna wear 'em for you...should I be concerned that you have my entire team wrapped around your pinkie?"

"No, cause I only want you." You try to lean over to kiss him but barely move before Michael's doing the leaning for you, to ease the strain on your neck and back. You kiss him brief and soft, barely moving away, just enough so both of you can talk.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, love you the most." You do love the entire team, but it's different, oh it's different. They're the mad group of gremlins who make you smile but you're not in love with them like you are Michael. You'd pick him any day of the week.

"Uh, so you love them?" There's that little jealous pout that brushes your lips, a reminder that Michael ultimately loves you so much that the idea of you loving anyone else even platonically sets his hackles rising.

"Well, they do buy me food..." You tease knowing he'll bite, he always does.

"Okay, but you love me most, right?"

"No doubt about it."

"Good, cause I love you the most too,"

"Even more than Logan and Josh?"

"Oh, fucking 100% more than those two idiots."

[stars-for-circe]

Circe's Most Frequented 🤍🤍🤍

My favourite authors over many different fandoms, for your indulgence.

@astralnymphh - TLOU, sapphic, shakespeare reborn

𖣂 There is no one else who could begin this list except for you tbh. One of the first authors I ever followed on this app and your work has never failed to blow me away; from your beautifully paced works that never run out of new prompts and tropes that you always nail, to your crazy big words you scavenged from wordhippo and managed to intergrate perfectly into your fics. To the Ellie Williams enthusiasts, give her fics a read and I promise it will change the trajectory of your lives forever. And don't be afraid to send her an ask, because she will quite literally craft a masterpiece.

𖣂 My recommendation: 'The Salvo Project'

@vifilms - TLOU, sapphic, she makes tumblr formatting her bitch

𖣂 At first it was your witty drabbles, then you graduated to 10k fics that take everyone's breath away. The way you can turn a single tiny idea into such a detailed work while also integrating the essence of each character you write into every single paragraph never fails to amaze me every time you appear on my feed. With your constantly changing layouts, and your beautifully crafted fic headers that show just how much of your heart goes into everything you put onto this app, you keep raising the bar again and again.

𖣂 My recommendation: 'Long Night, Long Ride'

@sweetercalypso - TLOU, multi

𖣂 Also one of my first follows, I remember quite clearly scrolling through the Abby Anderson tag on ao3 and being so blown away that I basically did a cartwheel when I saw you on tumblr. Your fics are the perfect late-night fix that are to-the-point, and your drabbles are filled with every trope anyone could even think up. And I'll shamelessly admit that reading your fics definitely moved Joel up quite a few slots in who I liked most within tlou.

𖣂 My recommendations: 'Texas Hold 'Em' + 'Uncharted Territory'

@the-kr8tor - Spiderverse, f/m, sfw

𖣂 I gotta say, this third movie needs to speed up so more people can come here and see how well you write for the spiderverse. Finding you in the tags was like a breath of fresh air, and your series works have kept me up at night on more than one occasion because of their binge-worthy goodness! From the adorable drabbles of Billie and Ramona, to the ups and downs that come with being a pirate, your works keep me invested even in the first, second....twenty-something times I've reread them.

𖣂 My recommendation: 'Our Place In The Middle Of Nowhere'

@s-4pphics - TLOU, Arcane, sapphic

𖣂 I hope you know that when you released 'The Call', it kept me up at night. Seriously, you're a genius. Maybe this style has been written before but it's the first time I've seen it. And amidst all the Sevika and Vi works that were being pumped out after the release of season 2, that fucking gem was put on my feed and it genuinely blew my mind. It was the perfect combination of crack-style fic and dark humour, coming together to make this smutty, hilarious, jaw dropping fic that had me pacing around my room a couple times - one of my favourites of all time.

𖣂 My recommendation, obviously: 'The Call'

@taintandviolent - Ahs, f/m, multi-fandom extraordinaire

𖣂 First of all, your username is fucking genius. Like actually, it had me saying it out loud and having such an OHHH moment and now I can't stop thinking about how cool it is. Secondly, if anyone has a taste for dark, gritty, horror infused tropes, or loves anything Evan Peters just like I do, her blog is the way to go. Her page is unapologetically for the monster-loving girlies who 'can fix him', and there's a little bit in there for every fandom that finds her. You're one of my favourite authors to send requests to, and you have definitely made me see Bill Skarsgard in a different light as of recent. 𖣂 My recommendation: 'Ouija Board’

[traumxrei-archive]

【 shared breaths, beating hearts 】

prompt #7: They were hiding from the teachers/others and it’s very close quarters in here, he could feel their body against his (ft. ruggie bucchi, azul ashengrotto, rook hunt, jade leech)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 1.4k

a/n: hello. i’m back at it. bc i’m determined to finish these asap. also bc it’s nice to write something short n sweet in between the other longer stuff i’m currently writing. enjoy ^^

Ruggie Bucchi

"Ruggie, what—!"

"Shh!" Ruggie pressed a palm against your mouth, his heart thudding in his chest. He had finally lost the mob of angry students a few turns back, and you just happened to be the lone person in the hallway.

So what did he do? Well, he dragged you into the storage closet with him.

"If ya keep quiet, I'll tell you what's happening," Ruggie whispered into the space between you two. Thinking about it now, this storage closet was quite cramped...

"Those students were...a little mad that I got the last sandwich for Leona-san," Ruggie swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that you were practically pressed against him.

Your hand grabbed at his lapel, "You used Laugh With Me?"

"Shishishi~ You know me too well," Ruggie could see your glower and he pouted. "I didn't steal it. I just stopped them from getting to the sandwich before I did." You sighed, and Ruggie swallowed as he felt your breath hitting his neck.

That was the exact moment that you leaned forward, your head landing on his shoulder.

Ruggie felt his heartbeat against his throat when he spoke, "W-What...what are you–?"

"I'm leaning on you."

"Yes, but," Ruggie felt your arms snaking around his waist, making his fur stand on end. "No, I meant why?"

"If we're going to be stuck here, I want to be comfortable," You grumbled and Ruggie felt himself stiffen again as you hugged him tighter.

He...really brought this upon himself. So he can't technically be mad, per se, but it was still dangerous. He just hoped that you wouldn't be able to hear the way his heart was beating like crazy.

Ruggie rested his chin on your head. Well…this wasn’t that bad either. If he had the excuse to hug you like this, feeling your warmth seeping right into his bones, then he would definitely milk the moment for all it was worth. After all, there was no place in the world he would rather be than your arms.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was in trouble. And this time he didn’t have a convenient scapegoat to blame for his headache. Rather, he caused this problem all on his own. How else could he explain the fact that he was hiding underneath a grand piano with his…crush?

“Uh, Azul?” You whispered, and he stifled a gasp. It served as a reminder of how little space there was under here. For such a big piano, you would think that there would be more space. “Why are we hiding?"

“I…”

Why were they hiding? Long story short, Azul had been caught playing the piano by you. And then he heard the twins coming down the hallway. And then he panicked, pushing the tarp over the piano and dragging you under with him. The normal Azul wouldn’t have panicked. He would have put the piano away before the twins could see, and all would be well.

But there was nothing normal about how hard his heart was beating right now.

“The twins always tease me whenever they catch me playing,” It was an excuse that he was pulling out of his ass, but it was better than admitting ‘your presence startled me enough that I lost my cool’.

He fought not to flinch when your hand suddenly landed on top of his, “Oh, I’m sorry, I… I just wanted to say that you shouldn’t be ashamed, your playing was amazing.”

If he didn’t die from the mortification he would feel if the twins found him hiding underneath a piano with you, then he would certainly die from the sweetness of your words. Coupled with the fact that he could see the smile on your face, it was a lethal combination. He hated how weak he was to you.

“Huh. I never noticed how blue your eyes were,” You said, as if you just made a passing comment on the weather.

Oh Sevens, take him now. Azul would not last another five minutes with you.

Rook Hunt

Rook had hid in his fair share of bushes in his life. It was a given, especially when he was out hunting. Natural cover was the best cover, after all. Yet the usually comfortable position felt slightly…different right now.

Especially with the fact that you were under him. Pressed against the autumn leaves like this, you looked absolutely brilliant. He wished that he could capture this moment and keep it forever. And if he wasn’t trying to be quiet he would’ve told you all that and more.

“Rook, what’s— what’s happening?” Oh, you seemed afraid, your fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve. He reached out, pressing gloved fingers against the furrow of your brow.

“Mon cher, do not fret,” Rook consoled. “C’est simplement. It is just a passing deer. Take a look to the side.” You turned your head, the hesitation melting into a look of wonder as you spotted the deer grazing not too far way from the two of you.

“Woah, that’s…that’s beautiful!” You exclaimed in hushed tones. His cheeks almost hurt from how much he was smiling around you.

“Hmm, c’est vraiment,” Rook murmured, his eyes all but pinned on the way the leaves seemed to cast shadows over your face in what he would say was a hypnotizing pattern. “Deer startle very easily, so we should keep quiet.”

You nodded eagerly, “I’m glad you asked me to take this walk with you.”

Rook almost wanted to echo your sentiment. He wasn’t one to shy away from expressing his absolute infatuation toward you, but it felt very different when you were just a mere few centimeters away from him. He could almost feel the redness like a thick second skin around his cheeks and neck.

“Let’s just…stay here for a while,” Rook said instead. “To watch the deer.” It was a baldfaced lie on his part, but if it meant that he could spend a few more moments here with you…a little white lie wouldn’t hurt.

Jade Leech

"Jade Leech."

"Ahem. Yes?"

"Could you please explain why I'm—"

"Shh," Jade leaned in a little closer, relishing in the way your shoulders jumped. Really, he didn't mean to orchestrate this situation. He was running away from one of Crewel's lectures about spore safety. (He had basically internalized Crewel’s monologue by now.)

But well, who was he to refuse the chance to tease you?

That was why he shifted closer, much closer than necessary as he continued, "If I don't come closer, Crewel will surely discover us."

"But why are we hiding in the first place," You hissed, grabbing at his wrist.

"I may have...accidentally grew some mushrooms in the flower bed he was saving for class—"

"Accidentally my ass," You grumbled, though you didn't try to push him away again. Instead, you stilled, and he could appreciate the way a cut of sunlight danced against your skin. He could practically see the flush overtake your face as he kept staring. He knew that you noticed.

Another idea popped into his head.

Jade opened his mouth, “If I may, what if you—“

“I swear to the Seven if you propose that I sit on your lap, I’ll—!” You fought for your words a bit. “I’ll actually bite you!”

“My,” Jade couldn’t help the surprised expression, a slow smile growing on his face at your provocative words. You never ceased to amuse him, with your expressions, your behaviors, and your words. He just wanted to see more and more of your reactions. Maybe that was why he was so very fond of you.

“I would never suggest something so…risque. And biting me?” He could see you gulp as he leaned that much closer, his forehead almost touching yours, “Are you prepared to face the consequences of suggesting such a thing?"

thank you for reading ! this is a part of my (very long overdue) 600 followers event ++ if you’d like to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist >:D

[yet-another-heathen]

Wick's Whump Drive - I

This is a commissioned piece for @light-me-on-pyre, who was kind enough to participate in my ongoing whump drive for Palestinian aid.

Want in? Donate $5/€5 or more to ANY Palestinian fundraiser, send me the receipt, and I'll write a custom whump drabble for you, too.

Prompt: "How would you write deconditioning?"

[ My lessons on how to write realistic conditioning can be found here. ]

---

TW | realistic whump recovery, emotional whump, brief argument, PTSD, flashbacks, intentional deconditioning attempt, implied past character death (whumper)

It wasn't the word itself this time. It was the way Caretaker said it.

"Kneel."

Whumpee went down hard. The mental cursing began when his knees were about two inches from hitting the ground. Too late to stop the movement. Plenty of time to hate himself for following through.

Where his knees hit, the jarring spike of stacking bruises felt like a punch. Failure.

Another. Fucking. Failure.

Whumpee groaned in frustration, hands balling in his hair. Then he was on his feet again, pacing. "Again."

"Whumpee, I think we've had enough for toni—"

"No! No, I need to try again! I have to get this right just once before I stop." He turned again on his heel, leaving another path in the carpet. "We keep going. I just— I just need to keep going."

Caretaker raised an eyebrow, not moving from where he knelt. With that endless patience that was beginning to grate on Whumpee's nerves, "...we have been at this for an hour. Your nerves are getting more and more frayed by the minute. You said yourself that this works best when you're calm."

"And what if I'm wrong?" Whumpee whirled around on him, tears in his eyes. "I keep failing. I've barely managed to stop myself three times this whole week. Out of what? Four dozen attempts? Five? Every time I quit I end up backsliding more and more. I can't keep giving up. This has to work."

"It will be easier—"

"Are you going to say it or not? You said you would help me!"

Caretaker looked taken aback. And just as quickly, his expression shuttered.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last hour?" he asked. "Don't forget— I still get to say 'no', too."

The reminder hit like a slap. Not because Caretaker was wrong. Because he was right.

It had taken everything Whumpee had just to keep making it through the practice sessions. With how bad things had gotten, he barely had the capacity to take care of himself right now. Let alone worry any of the people around him.

Was that how he'd been acting? Was that what Whumpee was denying him? Even the choice to be a part of this?

After standing there for another far too long moment, Whumpee let out a sigh and came back over to Caretaker. He slipped to the floor beside him, folding his knees up to his chest, back pressed to the couch.

Quieter, rougher, "...Yeah. Yeah, you do." He couldn't bring himself to look at him. "I'm sorry."

Although Caretaker didn't say anything, Whumpee could see the moment the tension in his shoulders let go. The fight passed over them like a distant shadow.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Whumpee murmured. He wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on his forearms. "Between the nightmares and the memories... I'm just... I'm so tired." Quieter still, "I can't seem to get that monster out of my head."

"You've not been sleeping." It wasn't a question.

"...I've been trying to. I really have. But I end up just laying there, thinking the same five thoughts on repeat, over and over and over. Things haven't been this bad since—"

A flash of bright light. Wrists rubbed raw. Whumpee was doubled over, arms wrapped around himself. Screaming himself raw with a flood of relief and despair and a hundred other emotions that he could never admit aloud. Blood spreading on the cement floor. Blood that finally, finally wasn't his own.

Whumpee flinched, twisting his face away from the sight. As if this was something he could just look away from. As if the memories weren't printed into his retinas like the afterimage of lightning.

He took a few slow, steadying breaths, shaking on every exhale. Clenched his trembling hands, open and closed. Open and closed. Eventually he managed a raspy, "...since before."

Caretaker watched, worried. But he knew better than to reach for Whumpee without asking first.

"Whumpee... you've been butting up against this same block for weeks now. I've watched you try everything except the most obvious thing there is. You need to rest." Whumpee opened his mouth to say something, but Caretaker cut him off before he could argue. "—I'm not telling you to quit. I know why you can't, and I would never ask it of you. But there's a difference between giving up, and taking enough time to catch your breath before the next sprint."

Whumpee averted his eyes again, throat working against the burn of building tears. But he was listening.

Softer, "You said this was something you'd be working on for the rest of your life. If that's true, then there's time. For just a few days... give yourself some of the softness you went so long without. Take enough time to be gentle with the man you're trying so hard to save."

The words had hit their mark. He watched as Whumpee's face crumpled. His breath hitched once, and he broke into a sob. Then Whumpee finally reached out for him, and Caretaker didn't hesitate to pull him into hug.

He buried his face against Caretaker's chest, everything he'd been holding back falling apart at once. Pain. Despair. Hope. Grief. All of it came pouring out with his voice.

"There. I've got you," Caretaker murmured, closing his eyes. Exhausted, but relieved that something had finally gotten through. "...I've got you."

[actuallysaiyan]

71. “you’re so annoying” - “would i still be annoying eating you out?” for the smite soulmate au- if you want ofc!!

warnings: smut, lewd themes, oral sex(fem receiving), villain AU, the soulmate au ™️ prompt: “you’re so annoying” - “would i still be annoying eating you out?” a/n: from the most amazing Smite fic I've read probably ever!!! I hope I did them justice <3 to read the fic, follow this link.

Nobody really prepared you for the way things would go with your soulmate. Falling for the number one villain was definitely not in your life plan, but the more you tried to keep away, the more you pulled back the layers of the man who was bound to you. Even with him being such a menace, he showed you that he had a lot of heart.

His tough exterior shows you that he’s not one to be put down by society, enemies or even those who want to confront him over nothing. It’s the pouty way his face gets whenever he doesn’t have time to spend with you or you have to pass on affection in favor of something perhaps a little more important in the moment. That face is what gets you to fall a little harder every time.

Because to you, the number one villain isn’t supposed to be this big pouty man who just wants to cuddle. No, he’s supposed to be rough and tough and violent. Yet, he’s just wanting to sit with you and kiss you and hold you while you two watch a movie. Sometimes life gets in the way too, and it leaves him needier than usual.

Tonight was no exception. You were finishing up some work only to have Yagi just hanging off of you. It would seem almost every second had him asking if you were almost done. At first, you tried your best to be patient with him but it was growing to become more than just a little annoying. As much as you were in love with him, sometimes he really knew how to get under your skin.

“Can you just give me a few more minutes?” You ask, trying to focus.

He groans. “You said that a few minutes ago. I’ve given you all the time you need to finish this. It’s just…it’s been a while since we were intimate.”

This is what caught your attention. But you know better than that to really comment on that. If you do, you’ll end up getting caught into his little trap he’s trying to lay out. You just continue typing, giving yourself a few seconds of silence before the man in question nudges you once more.

With a sigh, you save your document and turn off the computer. You turn to him.

“You’re so annoying,” you tease him, but you are quite frustrated with how he’s been bugging you this entire time.

“Awhhh but pumpkin,” he bats his eyelashes a few times. “Would I still be annoying eating you out?”

This renders you speechless. You watch as the smirk spreads on his face. Without another word, he helps you sit on the table. You can’t even complain, you’ve been needing this just as badly as he has. It’s just so annoying how he can win this way sometimes, just flustering you to be speechless.

“Bunny,” you warn him.

“I’ll make you cum, I promise. Then you can go back to writing that document or whatever.” His grin would suggest otherwise, but you finally cave.

He pulls down your pants and underwear, wolf-whistling when he sees how wet you are. Considering you seemed so upset about him distracting you, he’s very pleased with the outcome. Without even kissing you, Toshinori leans in to begin lapping at your sweet cunt.

You run your fingers through his messy hair, making him grunt and get even closer. If he could, he’d spend eternity making you feel good. The one thing in his life that makes him feel like he could be redeemed is when he makes you feel so good. The sweet sounds you make in the throes of pleasure are his favorite sounds in the world.

With his lips wrapped around your swollen bud, he slips one of his long fingers into you. He knows he said he’d let you get back to typing your document after your orgasm, but something tells him that you’ll be wanting much more after this.

Pick a prompt and send me a character and I'll write a Drabble!

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2025– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist:  @thissaintjessi.  @cherryblossombankai, @sunflowers-heart,  @erebus-et-eigengrau @sareenthedreamer

[devilevlls]

hii can i request 1/jealousy with any of the brothers of your choice and i dont mind if its nsfw or sfw <3

thank you and have a great day/night <3

Hii! I can't remember where I read that Lucifer sometimes compares himself with Barbatos, but it just hit me like lightning and I started writing. 

Hope you enjoy the quick drabble with the prompt! 💙

Jealousy ༘⋆

Gender-Neutral MC༘ ⋆｡˚

MC found themselves spending an increasing amount of time with Barbatos, their affection toward each other evident in the shared smiles and lingering conversations. The human's presence in the demon castle seemed to outweigh their time spent at the House of Lamentation, much to Lucifer's growing anger.

Staying there observing them walking together, Barbatos exuding his customary gentlemanly charm while MC radiated their infectious sunshine personality, only fueled Lucifer's frustration. He grappled with conflicting emotions; as the embodiment of Pride, how could he possibly admit to feeling jealous of a mere mortal?

But today, he resolved to confront the situation. Intercepting MC in RAD’s corridor, he quickly joined them, shooting a meaningful look before bringing up the topic.

"You and Barbatos seem rather close lately," he remarked, his tone tinged with an edge.

"Yes," came MC's simple reply.

"Is that all you have to say?" Lucifer arched an eyebrow, halting their progress.

"We're working on something," MC shrugged, evading his scrutiny with averted eyes, silently pleading for a change of topic.

"And what, pray tell, might that be?" Lucifer pressed, his patience wearing thin.

"Something," MC deflected, determined to keep their secret under wraps.

"Are you two perhaps involved romantically?" Lucifer's attempt at nonchalance betrayed by the telltale twitch of his eyebrows, taking a long pause before MC finally responded.

"Well, that certainly took an unexpected turn," they chuckled, eyes widening in amusement. "Are you jealous?"

"I most certainly am not," Lucifer retorted, his irritation palpable. "Just answer the question and stop playing with me."

"Hmm... I'll leave that for you to discover," MC teased, shooting him a mischievous wink before sauntering off.

Little did Lucifer know, Barbatos was assisting MC in crafting a grand birthday cake for the pride avatar, their secret project intended as a surprise for his upcoming birthday celebration. With each passing day, Lucifer's impatience would only serve to heighten the anticipation of the impending reveal.

Drabble prompts you can use in your requests!

[kaneaken]

“Why are you so convinced that what you are isn’t good enough?” “Why are you so convinced that I am?”

please wirh genshin men 🙏🏽

author's note; you're feeding me good with this request, nonnie 🫶 I went a bit overboard, so I decided to do only two guys for this request. If you wanna see the prompt with other characters, don't be scared to send me another request ᕦ⁠(⁠ò⁠_⁠ó⁠ˇ⁠)⁠ᕤ I would love to write for this prompt again

content notes; gn! reader, drabbles, hurt/comfort, self deprecation (lyney, neuvillette), furina shows up, little off track with neuvillette's (didn't use the exact wording of the prompt)

♡ LYNEY had made a multiple of promises to you during the course of your relationship. Many of them you didn't even know about. He promised himself that he'd keep you in the dark regarding his work for the Fatui. Yet, when he was badly wounded during a mission near your home, he ended up on your doorstep.

Lyney knew what to expect the second you opened the door. Confusion. Fear. As he waited for the door to open, Lyney couldn't help but let out a condescending laugh at himself.

Promises. He always made them, but he always seemed to break them. He promised to keep you unaware of the life he was leading away from you. He promised to never let you see him so filthy, so disgusting. He promised to never let you worry. Yet, here he was, breaking almost every promise he had made.

The door creaking open brought his attention back to the situation at hand. Could he make an excuse? No. It was better that you knew now rather than later. Before you decided you wanted to spend the rest of your life with a liar.

"Lyney?"

It was difficult to look up. Lyney kept his gaze on his dirty boots. It had been a while since he had felt this way. Fearful. He was scared. Scared to meet your eyes. Scared to know his worst fear has come true.

Lyney watched as your hand came into view. It cupped his face. He looked up.

It wasn't hatred. It wasn't even fear. You were... Concerned. Your brows were furrowed as you stared at his stained face. Your hand moved from his face to grab onto his hand.

Lyney's hand flinched. He shouldn't be touching your hands after what he had done. They were dirty. They always had been.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry.. this was a mistake," Lyney said hurriedly, bringing his hand up to his chest, "I shouldn't be here.."

As he began to step back, Lyney felt you reach for his hand and bring him back.

"Lyney, please, don't walk away," you said softly.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do. I have so much to apologize for."

"Lyney-"

"I've never been truthful enough with you. You don't deserve to be lied to. I'm sorry for doing this to you."

"Lyney-"

"I'll go. I promise you won't ever have to see me again."

Lyney took his hand out of your grasp, turning away once more. But he couldn't find himself taking the step forward, so your hand found his again.

You turn him to face you again with a sigh.

"Lyney, why are you so convinced that what you are isn't good enough?"

"Why are you convinced that I am? I'm a liar. The person you fell in love with.. it isn't who I am."

You sighed again. Your hand moved back to his face as you moved his face to look at you.

"Lyney, the person I fell in love with was part of you. I want to be able to love all of you, but I know you don't like showing me every part of you at once. It's okay. We'll do this little by little. Okay?"

Lyney sighed this time. How? How could he have found someone like you? At least, he kept one promise.

No matter what happened..

"Okay."

He would love you for as long as he could.

♡ Neuvillette knew there was something wrong with him. He had known the second he stepped into Fontaine all those years ago.

He wasn't like the others. As much as he attempted to hide it, it was obvious. He often had trouble with social cues. When people laughed, he could only stare. When people cried, he didn't know what to do.

It only became increasingly obvious when he met you. Whenever you were around, his chest tightened. Often, he felt his breath taken away.

He didn't know why. He searched everywhere for answers. Even looking to Furina for help. She laughed and could only wheeze out: 'The great Iudex in love?'

Love? It seemed ridiculous at first. Love was for people, not Neuvillette. Love was for those with hearts, not Neuvillette. Love was... Foreign. It wasn't meant for Neuvillette, who could not even shed a tear.

He could not love you. Not that you were unlovable, but that he had no heart to give to you.

But, was it strange for him to hope you could love him still?

Furina's incessant tapping on his shoulder shifted his attention to her.

"You really like them, don't you?"

"Lady Furina, I couldn't-"

"You can, Neuvillette. You just need to give love a chance. It's not like you're incapable of feelings. If you were," Furina pointed to the pouring rain outside, "why would it be raining?"

"What if-"

"Uh-uh! No 'what if's, Neuvillette!" Furina crossed her arms and looked him straight in the eyes. With a huff, she said:

"If you really love them, which I know you do as much as you may deny it, you would try. You wouldn't sit here and mope about it."

"Lady Furina, I am not moping-"

"Oh, don't give me that. C'mon, Neuvillette. We're gonna go find them right now." Furina tugged on his sleeve, leading him to the exit of his office.

Neuvillette watched as Furina opened the doors of the Palais Mermonia and stepped outside. Still grasping him by the sleeve, she led him through the pouring rain and towards the nearby café.

He spotted you standing under the hood of the building, watching the rain pour.

"Alright, now, go, Neuvillette. Be straightforward, okay? Just tell them how you feel." Neuvillette felt Furina shove him in your direction.

"Lady Furina, it cannot be as simple as that."

"It sure can. You like them and there's a very high chance they like you back. Now, hurry up. My clothes are soaked."

"Then, we shall head back to the Palais to dry you off."

"Oh, please.. Neuvillette, what are you so afraid of?"

"Lady Furina-"

"I'm doing what I can to help, but I can't do more if you don't tell me what's up. Why are you scared of telling them how you feel?"

Neuvillette sighed. He glanced in your direction and caught your eyes. He knew what was keeping him in place.

You were human. He was not. You could express yourself. He kept everything locked away. You were simply incompatible.

"I am not like them, Lady Furina."

"Why are you so convinced of that?"

"Because I could never love them the way another person could. They deserve more than I can give."

Furina sighed. Neuvillette expected her to back down, but she shoved him harder in your direction.

"No, I don't think so. You give yourself too little credit," Furina said, "You love them, Neuvillette. I know you do, so don't be scared."

With a final shove, Neuvillette found himself face to face with you. He could see the way your eyes gleamed when he stepped in front of you.

Neuvillette subtly tilted his head back and saw Furina standing a few feet away. She was giving him a smile and thumbs up.

He chuckled under his breath before turning his head to you. Maybe it was time to learn.

Neuvillette reached for your hand and placed a small kiss on its knuckles.

"Would it be alright if I took you out tonight?"

[asha-mage]

Assimilation; Tigraine Mantear

[Send me a fandom, character, or pairing and a one word prompt and I'll write a quick drabble for you! Still taking these by the way!]

From where she crouched on the bank of the River Erinin, Shaiel gazed out at the Andoran shore and tried to recall being Tigraine Mantear.

It was a cold morning, and she had wrapped herself tightly in the coat of her cadin’sor, her veil raised as much to keep a chill from his cheeks as to be ready to kill. First light was just beginning to break, turning the Erinin from black to a pale glassy blue and illuminating the small town on the opposite side.

Walls that had been indistinct shapes an hour before loomed now, solid and two stories high. There wasn’t enough light yet for Shaiel to make out the banners that waved above some of the squared watchtowers- but she knew it would be the white lion on red, followed by the sigil of whichever house claimed the town as its own. That was the custom, this side of the Dragonwall.

She wondered absently who had ultimately prevailed in the Succession and if they were the ones holding this town. There had been a Succession- she had learned that much since crossing the Dragonwall, though she did not know the details. She had not tried too hard to learn them. She had told herself that it was because she didn’t want to know how many had died for her choices. But maybe that had just been an excuse.

She hoped Galad was well. She hoped for that desperately. But she knew it was not likely. Not the way Taringail had been raised to play the game. And he would have been in the thick of it- Taringail would as soon give up on breathing as give up on his hopes of power. She longed to see him on the battlefield almost as much as she feared seeing Galad.

But if either her former husband or her son were fighting, it would not be in this town on the border- where no one expected the Aiel to strike.

Do you know its name? Janduin had asked her in the small hours two days ago, when Waterseekers had returned with reports of the river, and the town beyond. He had waited until they were alone, so as not to put her in an uncomfortable position before her spear-sisters, something she was thankful for.

Shaiel had not. Tigraine Mantear would have. Tigraine had known the name of every town in Andor large enough to have tower walls, especially those on the border with Cairhien or Murandy. But Shaiel had needed to forget so much of being Tigraine Mantear- not because she had wanted to, but to make room for all the things that came with being Shaiel. Hand signs and spear work techniques and which plants indicated water and how to treat a garra bite and- the list went on and on.

Was there really a time when I thought I would never fit my new life? She wondered, running a finger along the edge of her spear. She could remember those doubts and fears- at first that she would be too brittle, too rigid in herself to become Far Dareis Mai. Then that she would be too soft and weak, that she would never measure up to even girl children with skirts above their knees, never mind her teachers and spear sisters.

And now…

“You don’t have to do this, sister.”

Shaiel blinked and looked up. Sulin had moved out of the brush to crouch beside her. All along the river bank were two scores of other Far Dareis Mai and another of score spears from other warrior societies. Tigraine would never have known the signs- no wetlander noble girl could hope to spot an Aiel that did not wish to be spotted- but Shaiel could see the faint shadows, the careful rustling of leaves and brush, spot the occasional flash of cadin’sor shifting, that told her the truth.

Sulin had been one of Shaiel’s most faithful teachers. She was Goshien, not Taradad- but in Chumai for her brother’s wedding when Shaiel had arrived there. Sulin had insisted on being among those to oversee Shaiel’s training. All Maidens had pride in being Maidens. But Sulin had pride in Far Dareis Mai as an ideal and would not accept the slightest degeneration in the society’s standards. She had been the most brutal and exacting of all those who taught Shaiel- accepting no excuses and expecting not one whit less then she would any prospective Maiden.  If Shaiel were blindfolded at midnight, one punch would be enough to tell her if it was Sulin attacking her not- she would know the woman by the shape of her fists alone.

But never once had Sulin suggested Shaiel give up on her quest. Shaiel loved her for that alone.

It made her words now sting all the more.

When Shaiel did not acknowledge she had spoken, Sulin repeated herself.

“You do not have to do this, sister.” Sulin said. Her words would not have reached even another Maiden unless they were crouched knee to knee with Shaiel and Sulin.

Instead of answering, Shaiel tapped two of her fingers to the heel of her hand twice. I do not understand. One of the hand-talk signs she had learned first and used most often in her first year.

Sulin frowned, glaring over her black veil.

“Sister, I have spoken with-“ Sulin began and Shaiel turned away, glad her expression was hidden by her veil.

“With Janduin or Bair?” She demanded.

“No.” Sulin said quietly. “This is the business of Far Dareis Mai and none of chiefs or Wise Ones. I have spoken with the others who lead the spear sisters, and we are in agreement. Far Dareis Mai has never asked a sister to break clan. We will not start now.”

Shaiel went quiet, turning her gaze over to the town. Annoyance flared hot and itchy in her ribcage. Creator curse all men and their sly tongues. She should never have told Janduin the name of her birth country. Of course that bit of knowledge had made its way to Sulin and the others. Janduin knew he could not ask her this without shaming her. But her spear sisters were another matter- and Sulin had a first sister married to one of Janduin’s second brothers. Bloody men.

For a moment Shaiel let herself consider the possibility. She had prepared herself for this, knowing that it would likely come to fighting Andorans. But that didn’t mean the idea sat easy. These were soldiers who would have sworn their swords and their lives to her if things had gone the way they were supposed to. And even if that hadn’t been the case…she could never be easy spilling the blood of her countrymen.

Framed this way- as a matter of not breaking clan by her spear sisters- it would not be a great shame to accept if she truly wanted to. It was not as if Andor was the only ally who had come to fight at Cairhien’s side- there would still be much ji to be won. And it would not breach her promise to Gitara. She had not even promised to fight at all- only to stay with the Maidens until they went to Tar Valon.

The question was…was that what she wanted? It should be. The memory of Tigraine Mantear was not so distant as to want to kill Andorans. And even if it was, wasn’t that memory still owed something?

And yet the thought of standing aside, even for a single battle made her skin itch. The possibility that she would watch her sisters and her comrades clash and she would not be there to fight beside them- to watch Sulin’s back, or cover Savric, a Waterseeker she called friend, on the side where old battle wounds made him a little slower – it made acid bubble in her throat.

The Queen’s Guard would have died for her, in another life. But she had shed blood beside the Aiel in this one and that mattered more. 

To refuse to stand beside them when she could…If she did that she would have great toh.

“I am like water.” She muttered. Sulin blinked, not understanding. It was a mantra Shaiel had recited to herself again and again- when it had felt as if all her skin were one large bruise. As if she could not take another step.

I am like water. She would tell herself. I will take the shape of the place I find myself.

“Sister.” Sulin said seriously. “The Maidens have never asked me to shed Goshien blood. There is no shame in-“

“Are there Taradad in that town?” Shaiel asked coldly. Sulin recoiled slightly. Shaiel waited.

“No.” Sulin said, finally lowering her eyes.

“Am I not Shaiel, of the Chumai Sept of the Taradad Aiel?” She asked, letting a little savageness leak into her voice.

“You are.” Sulin said, lowering her eyes further. She made the second hand talk-sign that Shaiel had learned, the one that most Maidens usually learned first and used most often that first year. First and second finger and crossed and pointed back to herself.

I have toh.

Shaiel felt a stab of guilt, but she did not make either of the gestures that would have alleviated Sulin’s shame- small or I see nothing. She only wanted to have this conversation once. Instead, she made the gesture for later and turned back to the town.

It was light enough now that Shaiel could make out the sigils on the banners. She had been right- the Lion of Andor, above the Keystone of Trakand.

Three sharp bird calls cut through the early morning gloom- black heart sparrows. A bird not found this side of the Dragonwall. Shaiel and Sulin did not move, but both tensed as their eyes swung south, along the bank.

Two Thunderwalkers had appeared, lopping along at a careless easy pace. The Andorans would not see that though. They saw as poorly as Tigraine Mantear- they would only see men racing for longer and faster than most of them could manage and know fear. The trap was so obvious to Shaiel now that she wanted to scoff, as the pursuing cavalry appeared, half a league back in pursuit of the pair, charging ahead blindly. A horse could overtake an Aiel in a short dash, but the mounts were clearly flagging from a longer chase.

Showoffs. Sulin signed as one of the Thunderwalkers actually backflipped over a rock and waved at the pursuers before falling back into pace beside his fellow.

Shaiel signed her agreement, but it was more exasperated than frustrated. Janduin was a Dawnrunner, and they could make Thunderwalkers look positively demure.

The two Thunderwalkers started to veer towards the fjord in the river. Their strides faltered for a second, but both recovered quickly, their shoulders setting. They had crossed the fjord once already- but she doubted they would ever be easy crossing that kind of water.

The pursuers veered after them, blindly charging ahead. They were close enough now that Shaiel could make out the red of their coats and the glint of their helmets. The Thunderwalkers were moving with such caution- none of it faked- it was obvious the soldiers would catch them in another minute, maybe two.

It is time. Shaiel signed. Sulin nodded and let out a shrill single whistle, just as the Thunderwalkers reached the center of the fjord. It was echoed back three times.

The Queen’s Guard reached the fjord just as the Thunderwalkers were almost across. She could almost taste their triumph, their certainty they would be dragging prisoners back to the town. They were fools.

The moment the first soldier reached the bank and began to wade his mount into the water, Shaiel and Sulin stood and began to glide onto the beach- joined by three scores of Algai'd'siswai

Taking a deep breath, Shaiel began to sing.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Chatterbox (M, cold, 'drabble')

A little prompt-based fluff for you guys :) Reed and Greyson go out to dinner, but Reed realizes something is up when Greyson won't shut tf up lol. I'm loving writing this relationship, I can't lie, so sorry if it's too much Reed and Greyson lately - I'll get back to my other guys soon!

1.6K words (just a tiny lil blip of a story haha) CW: Male snz, coughing, fever, contagion mention. Hope you like it :)

Chatterbox

Reed looked down at his phone as he waited on Greyson, rereading the stream-of-consciousness texts his boyfriend had sent throughout the day.

Greyson

1:42PM

sooo pumped for tonight bb :)

1:56PM

should I wear a suit…? I know it’s a new spot but the website definitely reads ‘fine dining’, like fine-er than most of my clothes know how to be...

2:24PM

I think I’ll do dark jeans & a black button up. johnny cash style. cant go wrong w that. hahah.

3:17PM

I know ur working still but im just really excited to see you:):)

It was cute – borderline adorable – how nervous Greyson seemed for their dates, even after almost a year of the two of them being together. Reed had, of course, answered Greyson’s plethora texts throughout the day, but had tried to keep himself subdued so he wouldn’t give away his hand; tonight, he was going to ask Greyson to move in with him.

He knew it was a bit of a long time coming, but Reed was really trying to keep from scaring Greyson off by doing anything too quickly. His boyfriend certainly had a bit of past-relationship trauma that Reed tried valiantly to navigate; it was hard to figure out what the right time to do anything was. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right time to push their relationship to the next level. But things had been good lately; like, really good. Tonight felt… right.

Greyson’s presence was palpable before Reed even saw him blow through the door. He looked up from his phone and clocked his boyfriend, standing out side the restaurant with his elbow locked over his face; Reed cocked his head a bit, confused. Was he… coughing?

The chef, clad in the Johnny-Cash-getup he’d promised, shook himself out before pushing the door to the restaurant open. He pawed at his nose with the back of his hand while asking the hostess to point Reed out – she gestured towards their table, and Greyson smiled when the two of them locked eyes. Reed waved, smiling back. Something was certainly… off.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Greyson said, kissing the top of Reed’s head before sitting across from him. “The fuckin’ train was running late again.”

“I’ve told you a million times I’ll come pick you up for dates,” Reed said, squeezing Greyson’s hand across the table. “You don’t always have to take the train.”

Greyson shrugged, smiled a little loopily. “I like the train,” he said, picking up his menu and squinting at the small font. “Lots of time to think. I’ve come up with my best dishes on the subway, I’m pretty sure; you remember that tart I made for the writer’s dinner, the one where we saw each other for the second time? Came up with that on the train. I was sitting next to this girl, probably a student, and she was eating one of those little egg tarts, the ones from the Japanese bakeries? I thought, damn I bet a root vegetable in one of those would fuckin’ slay – spoiler alert, it so did. Where would I have come up with that if not for the train? Plus, it’s one of the most sustainable ways to travel. I get my good karma for not actively killing the environment in. Win-win. What’re we eat – HTSHH! NXTSHH!” Greyson’s explosion of word vomit was very suddenly cut off to stifle two painful-sounding sneezes into the back of his hand.

Reed blinked for what was maybe the first time since his boyfriend sat down. “...bless,” he said after a beat. Greyson nodded, sniffled a little, and picked the menu back up.

“What’s this place’s thing anyway?” Greyson continued, flipping the menu over to look at drinks. “I can’t seem to figure it out; are they Italian? Mediterranean? Fine dining? Just high-end? No tasting menu, but prices are high enough to warrant one. Wine list reads very Italian, but there are like three dishes with hummus on them? I’m half-expecting to be served babaganoush bolognese. Which… maybe would work? Actually, eggplant, tomato sauce… I could see it working. You never know. Can’t judge a book by its menu, right? What’re you drinking? Want to get a bot -?”

This second monologue was cut short when Reed reached across the table to place a gentle hand on Greyson’s face. Just as he expected: hot.

“Babe,” Reed said gently, taking his hand back, “you’re burning up.”

The chef cast his glance down, embarrassed. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out till after dinner,” he muttered. Reed laughed.

“Seriously? You had to know I’d figure something was up. You’ve been monologing since the moment you sat down. Have you been sick all day? You should’ve told me, honey. How much cough medicine did you take before you showed up here?”

Greyson looked up at Reed and gave him a little half-smile. “Pretty sure I downed half a bottle of Robutusssin, not gonna liiii – hh! HhNXTSHH-ue! Huh-TSHH-ue!” Once again, Greyson attempted to stifle, to no avail. He allowed himself two painful little coughs before righting himself again.

“Bless you,” Reed said again. “I wish you would just sneeze normal, that always sounds so painful.”

“We’re in a restaurant,” Greyson said, a huskiness beginning to creep in to his voice. “That’s so gross.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Who cares? No one’s looking at us. They’re too busy with their many, many hummuses.”

A laugh bubbled out of Greyson, and with it came a flurry of congested coughs he directed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t mbake me laugh,” he muttered, taking a drink of water. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Good,” Reed said, flagging the waiter. “I’m so sorry,” he said when the young, well-dressed server came to their table, “something’s come up and we’re going to have to go.” He handed the kid a fifty. “Thank you for your help.”

The server nodded, said thank you to Reed, and went to grab the two men’s jackets. Greyson raised an eyebrow, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking you home,” Reed said. “You need tea and soup, not…” he glanced back down at the menu, “fattoush flatbread.” Greyson visibly deflated.

“I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called and canceled, I just… I mbiss you when we don’t see each other all week. You’re always busy, I’mb always busy, it just fucking sucks. I don’t even know how I got fucking sick… oh wait, yes I do. Elijah had a cold last week – was that last week? Did I tell you that? I can’t remember. I think the servers gave it to him. Fuckin’ servers, I’ve never met a group of people who get sick mbore than theehh – huh! Fuck – HUHETSHHH-ue! Huh-! HhITSZZZCH-ue!” Greyson folded in half, his torso practically beneath the table in an attempt to keep the entire restaurant from hearing him. It was, of course, at that moment that the server returned with their coats. Reed took them silently, and stood to gather his boyfriend, who slowly unfurled himself from his own lap.

“Bless you,” he said, gently helping Greyson to his feet and slipping his coat over his shoulders. He lead the two of them past the host stand and onto the sidewalk, where he turned Greyson to face him.

“First of all,” he said, sweeping Greyson’s hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek, “I know a subset of people who get sick more than servers, and it’s chefs. You and all your chef buddies are pestilence incarnate because you work nine hundred hours a week.” This prompted a little laugh from Greyson. Perfect, thought Reed. Break the tension.

“Secondly, yes, you did tell me that Elijah was sick, and I told you, and I quote, ‘Don’t get too close, I know you two love to share a cold’, but I know you don’t like to listen to authority, so not sure what I expected.” Another laugh. Greyson pushed his hair back, rubbed his nose, and pulled Reed in to hug him. Reed continued from this spot, pressed into Greyson’s shoulder.

“And thirdly,” he said, “I miss you too. All the time. Which is why I asked you out tonight.” He pulled away, reached into his pocket, and dropped a key into Greyson’s palm. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want you to have to take the train from Brooklyn every single night, I don’t want us to hang out once a week, I don’t want to drop you at your apartment to take care of yourself. I want to see you when I wake up every morning. I want to hear you sneak in at three AM after you and Matt go clubbing. I want to take care of you, at home, when you’re sick.” Reed smiled, a little embarrassed, as Greyson stared at the key. “Move in with me,” Reed said. “Please.”

Greyson’s mouth opened, then shut without words a couple of times before he looked Reed in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”

Reed felt a smile bloom on his face, huge, goofy, unashamed. He took Greyson’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. Greyson held his boyfriend by the waist, then picked him up to spin him around. “I love you,” Greyson muttered into Reed’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Reed said, smiling. Greyson turned away then, suddenly to -

“HRRSHH-ue! HhhITSHZZCH-ue!” he sneezed away from his boyfriend, which prompted a laugh from Reed.

“Probably too late for that nicety,” Reed joked, elbowing Greyson playfully. The chef huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I figured sneezing directly into your face would probably kill the moment,” he said, sniffling. “But I’ll go ahead and just do it next time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Reed laughed, kissing Greyson again. “C’mon. Let’s get you home and in bed. Sickie.”

Greyson smiled a little. “Yeah,” he said, looping his arm into Reed’s. “Let’s go home.”

[in-my-loki-feels]

2024 Writing Roundup

Thank you for tagging me @blackbirdofasgard and @loki-is-my-kink-awakening! <3 This got a little long so I'm not going to tag anyone at the end, but feel free to join in if you see this!

Lokius: 16 fics, 7 drabble-ish stories, 181,714 words (with an additional 24,287 words posted to tumblr)

February

Like You Mean It - M, Loki/Mobius, Prezdoki AU (technically)

Beg Me For It - E, President Loki/Don, Prezdoki AU

The beginning of the Bad Things 'verse, and my descent into rare pair madness. 😂

March

No Time For Love, Dr. Bones - T, President Loki/Dr. Indianapolis Bones

April

Let Me See You - E, President Loki/Don, Prezdoki AU

May

Sweeten the Pot - T, Loki/Mobius

June

Out in the Open - E, President Loki/Don, Prezdoki AU

July

My Mind's Aflame - E, Loki/Mobius/President Loki

August

Where You Belong - E, President Loki/Don, Prezdoki AU

Just Like Runaway Horses - E, Loki/Mobius, Cowboy AU

October

Intoxicated, Calculated - E, Loki/Mobius

A Desperate Play for Control - E, Loki/Mobius, Avengers AU

November

Love in Every Cup - G, Loki/Mobius

A Break in the Routine - E, Loki/Mobius

More Than Your Broken Pieces - M, Loki/Mobius, Avengers Loki x Mr. Tesseract

December

In A Fever 'Til the End - E, Loki/Mobius, Cowboy AU

I'll Be Anything You Need - E, President Loki/Don, Prezdoki AU

Drabble-ish writing (written for Wanksgiving and Wanksmas)

More

Lovely

Perfect

Convincing

Well-Behaved

The Mistake

Lace

Honorable mentions to other fandoms under the read more!

Sharperton (Benedict Bridgerton/Thomas Sharpe)

Thank you @silentxsymphony for being the catalyst to writing this ship! I've had so much fun discussing these two with you. 💖

Society's Expectations

Shall We Dance?

There are a few more tidbits with them in the Sharperton tag, including the ask prompt that started it all!

Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, MDZS

How to Shred Trails (and win hearts)

so much that it hurts

Frosthawk (Loki/Clint Barton)

Left Wanting

WHEW! That's a lot of writing. The total for all fandoms was 197,764 words.

I feel incredibly lucky to have found the Loki fandom when I did because all this writing was helping me cope with a shit year. I hope circumstances improve in 2025, but I also hope I can keep writing so I can share the ideas currently crowded in my brain. 😊💚🧡

[captain-huggy-bear]

Hi, an idea for a celly:

“Bring a damn charger next time, you scared the shit out of me” w/ Clayton?

P.S. love your writings! You always pop-off with them! 🫶🏼

Thank youu, hope you like it, lovely! So glad to write some Clay for this celly <3 We all know he'd be pissed out of concern if he can't contact you cause your phone dies, man is pulling his hair out but he also gets worried to the point of breaking I think. 1000 Followers Celly Currently ongoing 🥳🎉 Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You don't expect to be in this position when you leave your house early in the morning for a long day in the next town over with your friends. You'd sent Clay a text in the morning to tell him you'd speak to him later in the day, both of you in the habit of texting throughout the day, sending updates when you were busy doing your own thing. You never just went radio silent, both of you like the reassurance that the other was okay.

What you hadn't realised was that your phone battery was almost out. You swore up and down that you'd put it on charge overnight like normal, but you must have not plugged it in properly because by 8am it was on 5% charge and naturally you didn't notice until it was too late.

Clay, on the other hand, had spent the entire day freaking out and worried because none of his calls were going through to you, no messages were being seen and he'd yet to get any of your friends' numbers for emergencies. He'd spent the day phoning hospitals in the area in case you were in an accident...suffice to say that when you finally got home at 11pm he was pissed off, breathing heavily as he tried to not take his worry out on you. He was worried sick, adrenaline on a high, buzzing with it under his skin in away he hadn't felt outside of a game.

“Bring a damn charger next time, you scared the shit out of me.” He doesn't raise his voice. Clay never yells, not even when he's pissed off, but his tone changes. It's sharp with worry, nostrils flaring as he breathes heavier. He's been running his hands through his hair, so obvious by the way it's out of place, not as tidy, not as pristine. Clay looks dishevelled, he looks like he's spent the day worrying.

"I'm sorry, I swear I put my phone on charge over night, it should have been at 100...I'm sorry, baby." You feel shitty...so guilty because he'd spent the day thinking you'd been hurt, phoning hospitals, unsure if you were okay or not, only for you to waltz through the door like nothing had happened.

You're reaching for him, arms wrapping around his waist, hands rubbing across his back in an attempt to ease some of his worry, to comfort him. You've rarely seen Clay this worked up and you hate that it's caused by you making a silly mistake, one you normally wouldn't have. You'd have been just as stressed in his shoes and likely less forgiving about it.

"I...I thought something had happened to you...I thought..." You know what he thought, the phone calls to the hospitals said enough...he thought you were hurt, that something bad had happened to you. It has you sliding your hands into his hair as he drops his forehead to your shoulder, "Shit, if something ever happened to you I don't know what I'd do, sweet girl."

Clayton Keller is not someone you would say was overly emotional...no Clayton had a tight grip on his emotions whether it was pain, frustration, worry, sadness...you could count on one hand the times you'd seen him lose that control. But you could already hear the tears starting to choke him up, could already feel the shake in his body, that control slipping more and more. It was almost terrifying in it's own way, to know that he was actually not unshakable.

"I'm okay, I'm good...and I promise from now on I'll keep a spare charger in my bag." Practical promises in an attempt to help put his mind at ease but he's shaking even harder like trying to calm him down just makes it worse.

"Clay..." You clutch him tighter like if you do you can make it easier, make it better, but he's coming down off an adrenaline spike that's been happening all day. The shakes aren't just the impending tears but the adrenaline wearing off, finally able to come back down now that you're here, now that you're safe.

"Fuck.." You feel the tears before you hear them, wet on your shoulder as he clutches you tighter, falling thick and fast as he gasps and sniffles against you. It's almost scary to see him break because you never really have. He's always the stable one, and maybe you haven't made enough room for him to break, maybe this should have come a hell of a lot sooner.

"I'm okay, you're okay...we're both, okay, Clay. I'm not going anywhere."

All you do is hold him. That's all you can do, even as his tears make your own spawn, you just hold him. You run your fingers through his hair, over his back, squeeze him as tight as you can and don't let go. You don't let go after 5 minutes or 10 or 40. You hold him until he's ready to pull back because you want to be someone he can break around, because you know he needs this, because this just tells you how much he cares about you.

There's no shame in his tears, just love.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Not Rated Fics Masterlist (15)

Part 1 /Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /Part 8 /Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 /

Created: August 27th, 2024

Last Checked:-----

Anise-titania522 (ao3) Summary: A one shot inspired by the celebration of the Day of the Dead, November 2nd. Peeta offers to help Katniss make the typical bread for the Day of the Dead. Are you coming to the Hanging-Tree?-oh_wellau (ao3) Summary: At the end of Mockingjay, Peeta returns to Twelve later than he did in the books. Katniss has to save herself from herself, having been left alone in Twelve, with Greasy Sae, a drunken Haymitch, annoying Buttercup and a house full of ghosts. Believe in Us - If You Forget Me Outtake-titania522 (ao3) Summary: Written in response to an Everlark Drabble Challenge by buttercupisbrainless with the prompt "Let me take care of you" and the phenomenal artwork created by Ackennedy7. Peeta struggles to overcome the last barrier of intimacy between him and Katniss. Written in the If You Forget Me universe. Everlark Writing Meme Drabble Collection-titania522 (ao3) Summary: Fics based on a tumblr writing meme. I have about about fifteen more in my ask box and as they are written, I'll add them as chapters here and they'll be filed in the subcategory Drabbles and Short Works by Titania. I will write them in between my longer works. They'll have working titles for each chapter they are not intended to be long at all. Thank you for reading! Far Far Away-ThirtySomething (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta attend a Star Wars convention! Short and fluffy one-shot. Midnight-tethered_feathers (ao3) Summary: A poem inspired by this line in MJ: “You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” Shades Of Winter-TwilightCakes (ao3) Summary: SEQUEL TO 'CRUEL SUMMER'. Separated by miles, Katniss and Peeta attempt to keep the love they discovered the past summer at Camp Panem sizzling. They are determined to make it work but long distance relationships are never easy; they must endure Skype dates, weekend visits, and dorm room quickies. Will their romantic misadventures break them or make them stronger? KatnissXPeeta This Would've Happened Anyways-katnissdoesnotfollowback (ao3) Summary: A collection of canon divergent drabbles and shorter ficlets rated K to E. Ratings, warnings, and summaries for each chapter included in the Table of Contents, which you will find in Chapter 1. All pieces are Everlark unless otherwise noted. To the Surface-oh_wellau (ao3) Summary: They were rescued years ago after having escaped the bombing; a hovercraft had found them near the lake and taken them to Thirteen. The war rages on. The Capitol and Thirteen continue fighting over power in what is left of Panem, with few moments of peace in between. Well Worth The Pain-Pookieh (ao3) Summary: Peeta makes a decision that he knows will only end in pain, but to him it’s worth it, if only to make her smile. Visual Prompt: Lady's Pink Ribbon

[porcelainmortal]

Freaktober (Ficlet) Friday

✨ Come one, come all, to my fun and freaky wheel of smut! ✨

The urge to participate in Kinktober was strong, but I was also nervous and I'm busy as hell this month. I also haven't done Ficlet Fridays in a long while, so I decided to combine them with a Halloween twist!

The rules: Spin 🪄🎡 The Wheel of Mayhem 🧿⚡️ and send me the prompt you received along with a RWRB pairing! For the purpose of Freaktober, I will be focusing on FirstPrince, but if the muse gets freaky enough, I might be willing to write for other RWRB couples, especially if I get the same prompt twice. These ficlets could be drabbles or they could expand to more than 1k words; I'm keeping definitions very loose here. Also, I have a vacation coming up, so depending on how many I get, these could take me a few weeks to finish. Please be patient and I will have them all posted by Halloween! (If I don't get many, I'll repost this next Friday) Feel free to use my wheel or take this idea and make your own Wheel of Mayhem! I stole this idea (with permission) from the lovely @cactusdragon517. 💕

Thank you for the Ficlet Friday tag today, @tailsbeth-writes!

Tagging some people who might want to spin the wheel and send me a prompt.

@anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @bitbybitwrites @caterpills @cricketnationrise

@cha-melodius @firenati0n @faketrex @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@iboatedhere @inexplicablymine @kiwiana-writes @myheartalivewrites @onthewaytosomewhere

@priincebutt @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow @thesleepyskipper

@theprinceandagcd @thighzp @wordsofhoneydew and as always, an open tag!

[springtyme]

𝟏𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡

Wow! This is absolutely amazing! When I made this blog seven months ago, I never anticipated receiving such a large number of followers here. I am incredibly grateful to each and every one of you. I want to express my deepest gratitude for all the support and love you have shown towards my writing ♡

✨ drabble request for any of the characters on my character list, with 1-3 prompts from this promp list (you’re also welcome to make your own prompt if you feel like it) just remember to not only add the number but also the category, since the same numbers are used multiple times in different categories (example: ‘2 fluff prompt’ or  ‘2 winter prompt’) <3

🪩 i’ll share a paragraph from one of my wips and tell a little about it

🥂 give me a character and i'll make a little playlist for them, including a little scenario to go with it (you can also give the scenario if you prefer)

💍 ask me anything/tell me anything, or we can play a game! (would you rather, FMK, etc.)

💫 headcanon request for any of the characters on my character list

my asks are also always open if you just want can just talk or come say hi ♡

i'll keep this event open for at least a couple of weeks, and you're welcome to send multiple things in, just as long as they are send in as separate asks ♡

just please remember my guidelines ♡

[ratinayellowbandana]

Not sure if you're still taking imodna prompts but if so, I'd love it if you wrote something for 4. "I just don't want to scare you off" from the November drabble prompt list.

Alternatively, something from the Red colour prompt would be great too! (either 1. or 4.?)

this prompt has been in my inbox for. um. too long. decided to use it to finish an old ficlet and join in on imodnovember (prompt: mud) for a day :)

if you have a prompt you want filled, lmk! can't guarantee I'll do it but I'm really trying to get back into writing. some lists if you need inspiration 1 2

very quick and unedited. little bit of angst little bit of hurt/comfort. ~1.1k

~~~

Laudna wished she could say the fight was over before it began. That they vastly outnumbered their opponents, and the Ruby Vanguard waved the proverbial white flag well before any combat could arise. That the combined forces of the Ashari, Vasselheim, and Whitestone had been enough to make their enemy flee.

Laudna wished she could say she held her own. That she had fought valiantly and fired an eldritch blast at any robed soldier who looked at her with a hint of a sneer. That she and her companions felled hundreds with ease.

Laudna wished she could say this was an easy victory.

She doesn’t know where she is. Somewhere on the outskirts of the real fighting, she thinks, given the shouting in the distance. She doesn’t know where her friends are. They had been split up almost immediately, each swept along in a different current. She can’t see any of them.

How long has it been since she last saw someone she knew? The sun hangs low in the sky, bathing the battlefield in a swath of ruddy orange that casts the armor of the fallen in flame. Little fires scatter across the desert plain like gems strewn between what sparse wind-swept plant life had made its home here.

Imogen had been the last one she saw, her lavender hair billowing around her shoulders as she cast a lighting bolt and carved a hole in the advancing battalion. Ozone crackled and tinged the air with a metallic odor that lingered in Laudna’s nose. Imogen vanished soon after.

An Ashari blade had clung to Laudna’s side in her stead, a lithe half-elf with whom Laudna conspired to wipe out a group of Ruby Vanguard members attempting to enter the fray. The half-elf fell some time later, Laudna snarling over the body, shoulders extending into branches as she clawed at man who killed her companion.

The battle is ongoing, bloody, with heavy casualties on both sides, and Laudna is spent. Her chest heaves, two wicked gashes across her ribs that haven’t stopped oozing dark blood. Her shoulder hangs loose in its socket, the flesh around the joint purpling, and she has yet to pop it back in. She limps to the nearest cover, a sunswept rocky outcropping, and hunches in its shade. A patch of seared skin on her calf stings as it hits the sand.

She takes stock of her injuries, uncorking a healing potion and grimacing at the flavor. Nearby, a man shouts as he parries a blow. The familiar hum of magic singes the air.

Laudna.

Her name burns through her mind, hot and desperate. Afraid. Imogen’s voice, clear.

Near the tower. I’m–

Her message cuts off.

Laudna is running, pounding through the desert, a beast, hunting. Tree trunk limbs make heavy contact with the sand as she swats away an arrow let loose from somewhere to her right. Another hits its mark in the woody shell of her back, and she howls. She lets a fireball loose in the general direction and keeps going. 

The tower is across the field. How had Imogen gotten so far away?

How had Laudna let her?

Her path is clear, friend and foe alike parting for the monstrous tree creature galloping across the sand on all fours. The warmth of the healing potion spurs her on, soreness fading into a mere afterthought. She really ought to thank Orym for insisting she take some of the spares. If she sees him again.

She’s getting closer. The tower looms three hundred feet away. Two hundred.

Where are you? She sends.

She receives no reply.

A throng assembles at the foot of the tower, a shifting sphere of electricity at its center. Imogen is nowhere to be seen. Smoke curls off the sand and wafts into the air. Patches of shrubbery are little more than crisped tinder and ash. Figures lie prone in a sixty-foot radius around the sphere. The ground glistens, the dying sunlight shining off a section of smooth sand ten feet in any direction below the mass. Glass, Laudna realizes. The smell of burnt meat tastes charred on Laudna’s tongue.

A flash of blinding light leaves her blinking spots from her vision, and she skids to a stop at the lip of the small crater, searching frantically.

There, at the center, is Imogen on her knees. 

Imogen? Laudna shouts silently.

Don’t come any closer, Imogen growls.

A small battalion of Whitestone soldiers keeps the tide of enemies at bay long enough for Laudna to prowl over the rim and blatantly ignore Imogen’s plea. The earth grows warm beneath her wooded knuckles as she inches closer.

Imogen’s dress is torn and bloodied, sleeves tattered and shredded. Her skirts are all but gone, wispy tendrils in strips around her thighs. Her arms glow red, tracing veins up her shoulder, disappearing into her collar. Trails of mud and blood streak her cheeks and run down her side, staining fabric an alarming crimson hue. Her vest is drenched in it.

“You’re bleeding,” Laudna says, voice raspy and warped with dread. She allows her form to collapse a few feet away from Imogen. Bones grind and click together, shifting beneath parchment skin. Laudna’s wounds stretch and burn.

“‘S not all mine.”

“What were you thinking?” Laudna says shrilly.

“Didn’t want to scare you off,” Imogen replies wryly, and Laudna startles.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Was hopin’ you wouldn’t have to.”

And, suddenly, Laudna is confronted with a far worse reality: one where the blasted crater did not have an Imogen at the center.

“Fuck you,” she spits.

Imogen blinks, taken aback.

“That was reckless.”

“Do we have to do this here?”

“You turned yourself into a weapon. You could have been killed.”

“I had it under control.”

“Did you?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“It was spectacular, naturally, but–”

“I’m not seein’ the issue here.”

“You scared me.”

Imogen’s face softens.

Laudna backpedals, “And I know, I know, it’s selfish to be fretting over one person when so many have died, and you are very capable after all, and I trust you a great deal, of course, I do.”

“I’m sorry for scarin’ you,” Imogen says, squeezing Laudna’s hand, “but can we pick this up later?”

The sounds of the battlefield shift back into Laudna’s field of perception. Suddenly, the clash of weapons and the hum of magic is inescapable. The Whitestone battalion has been pushed back to the lip of Imogen’s crater. Laudna fishes a lesser healing potion from a pouch at her waist and thrusts it into Imogen’s hand before she can protest.

Imogen gives her a crooked grin, “Let’s give ‘em hell.”

[syncopein3d]

CW: discussion of a real life death / loss of a parent

Hey, whump community! I know I haven't been around as much lately, and I'm sorry to the person who tagged me in a game recently and I didn't reply. I'm pretty new around here compared to many of you, but I have a few followers now, so I thought I'd do a small update. This is about some difficult personal stuff, so you don't have to read this, I just thought I should maybe explain because I hate it when people vaguepost about how they're doing poorly and I don't want to be that person. Just know that I appreciate you all and whump has helped get me through a bad time.

I've mentioned at least once that we lost my Dad in July '24. He collapsed at home on the bedroom floor. I did compressions until the EMTs came and took over, and he died at the hospital. All our lives revolved around his medical and personal care for years before that. Me and Mom and my sibs are still trying to build a new life for ourselves. I'm mostly over the nightmares from that specific night, the guilt that I wasn't better at cpr, and the worst emotional fallout, but none of us will be "normal" for a long time. I am not young, but you're never really ready for something like this. Sometimes even people whose parents are awful still aren't. Dad, while our relationship was complicated (I've never been out to him about being agender, I think he guessed I was ace), was part of my life consistently for pretty much all of it to date.

I will not share the details, but things were pretty awful in the hours before it became clear he wasn't going to wake up and we had his ventilator removed. All of us were in the room with him right up to the end.

After a bunch of connected bits I wrote proved ineligible for a big event and I'd written over 30k words, I really wanted to turn them into a novel about this modern supernatural clinic for vampires, witches and hunters (set in the Trifold Balance universe my Jack Ford one shot is in and also the now very long Left Alone). Obviously, I haven't finished it. I just couldn't put myself into a medical environment for a while, even a very fictionalized modern fantasy one. I've been writing drabbles and short pieces off and on, and interacting sporadically with other people's work.

My bigger regency-era fantasy wip, closer to 200k words now, also was untouched for months apart from basic edits, because I just didn't have the mental energy to write. Yesterday I wrote another 1200 words on it for the first time in ages. I finally have some hope for being able to finish this thing and maybe, just maybe, eventually the other one, too.

I have all of you to thank for that, because all of your prompts and bits and stories helped keep bringing me back to what I love about writing. I'm still 17 lbs heavier than before the funeral (down from 20), I have psoriatic plaques on my face when I never have before, and I still sleep slightly worse than before it happened. If I hear anything like a thud in the house I still run there in a panic. But things are slowly improving for me as they do for all of us. And this place is where I can go away from the part of myself that isn't better yet.

I'll go back to just the fun parts after this, I promise, but thank you. We hardly know each other, but I appreciate you and your writing and reading and comments so, so much. None of us is normal here, but I've always felt at home.