#i haven't written anything in

[fonulyn]

Inspiration Saturday/Several Sentence Sunday

also got tagged by @silvercap so am shamelessly taking the opportunity to post another one :'D

Still grinning, Jake leaned back in his seat, arching an eyebrow at his friend. “So, what’s next for you then?” That was the million dollar question. Piers would’ve loved to have the answer to it himself. “I don’t know,” he admitted with an awkward little grimace. “I never really planned much further than this.” He’d been so focused on healing, on his physical therapy, on learning the skills he’d lost together with his arm… there’d been no room for anything else, really. Now he needed to find something else to set his mind to. Jake pursed his lips thoughtfully, tilting his head a little. “You still play bass?” Surprised, Piers frowned at him. “Yeah. Why?” Instead of answering the question, Jake asked another. “Do you know RPD?” “Raccoon City police department?” Piers hazarded, slowly, not really following. At all.

from the nivannedy band au lol.

(feel free to say i tagged you if you want to share your writing!)

[undressrehearsal]

dare to be stupid

summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)

a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk

part 2

“Truth or dare?” 

It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.

And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes. 

She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?” 

You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed. 

Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.” 

Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.” 

You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.” 

“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?” 

Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?” 

Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?” 

“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?” 

Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.” 

Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?” 

Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.” 

There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in. 

In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress. 

When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?” 

You grinned. “$200.” 

Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.” 

“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”

Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.” 

You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips. 

“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling. 

“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.” 

You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.” 

Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor. 

Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?” 

You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!” 

Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.” 

You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder. 

“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone. 

“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”

Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning. 

“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away. 

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.” 

You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you. 

This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”) 

“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?” 

She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.

“Don’t-” 

“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!” 

“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-” 

“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?” 

“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?” 

Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.” 

Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.” 

“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.

And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing. 

“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints. 

You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.” 

“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light. 

You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”

You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies. 

“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar. 

It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own. 

So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?” 

She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands- 

“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?” 

And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited. 

You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse. 

You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk. 

You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.”

“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat. 

For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed. 

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.

“How would you rate your last kiss?” 

You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.” 

Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.” 

“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic. 

Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.” 

Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else. 

Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.” 

Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.” 

You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart. 

“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there. 

Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.” 

And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.” 

You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover. 

And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer. 

Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face. 

Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth. 

That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp. 

“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest. 

And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving? 

Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.” 

And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body. 

Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue. 

“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.” 

She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone. 

The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.” 

Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin. 

“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips. 

“What?” 

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no. 

“Truth,” you sighed. 

One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?” 

You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing. 

It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs. 

Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?” 

This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips. 

And you decided to play her game. 

“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes. 

Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.” 

You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.” 

She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment? 

But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach. 

You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.” 

The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.

“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.” 

Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple. 

“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones. 

You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease. 

She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.” 

Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan. 

You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye. 

You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.” 

Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission. 

“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence? 

And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them. 

Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been. 

Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs. 

You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place. 

You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….” 

And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job. 

And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-” 

And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted. 

Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-” 

It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it. 

Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-

A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs. 

Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity. 

When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple. 

The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?” 

Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?” 

You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?” 

Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.” 

You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”

The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin. 

Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again. 

You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.” 

Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?” 

You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.” 

Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you. 

She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.

You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.” 

You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.

Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.” 

[whatswrong7]

Part 2 Part 3 Ghost didn't think much of you at first. You were just the incapable rookie to him. Constantly getting lost and needing backup on missions. He was actually annoyed at you and your incompetence, trying to stay as far out of your way as possible. But without fail, on almost every mission, your voice would pop into his ear calling for help as you inevitably fucked up, or bit off more than you could chew, or got yourself injured. He didn't even understand how you made it onto the task force, and he told Soap as much, which would usually just get a laugh and not much of a real response. He'd avoid your attempts at chit chat and small talk, barking orders at you to go do something else, unless you were at base, where he settled for just ignoring you until you furrowed your brow and went off.

And then you saved Johnny. His earpiece had gotten destroyed a few minutes earlier, the last thing he was able to say a vague description of his location. Price, Gaz, and Ghost were all preoccupied with their own fights. Ghosts mind seized up as his body continued the motions, aiming and shooting with deadly accuracy. He was gone. Soap was as good as gone, and just like his family, he wouldn't be able to save him. He couldn't breathe, all the gear too heavy on his body as his lungs threatened to collapse. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, all because of him, him, h-

"I got him"

Your voice rasped through the tiny machine, sounding out of breath and unsteady. You didn't respond to anything else, the rest of them hurrying to finish up and head to the chopper, Ghost silently hoping, praying. And there Johnny was, huffing and breathing heavily as a medic took care of him, quickly confirming to the newly arrived team he would be just fine. Ghost breathed a sigh of relief, just to turn to you and get the breath knocked out of him again. You were also getting quickly helped, blood coating you as the medic worked to remove the bullets from all areas of your body you had been hit in. Your usually bright eyes were heavy lidded, as you lazily looked around, barely glancing at Simon. Your shoulder had to get put back into place after popping it out of its socket- and by god, you were a proper mess, thick blood all over your skin and blending in with your uniform, your arm hanging limp by your side as it was held and shoved back into place, and barely able to keep your eyes open.

Ghost had never seen anything more beautiful.

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[jesncin]

"Kyle Rayner napping while balancing a rubber ducky on his forehead" prompt for DC Gotcha for Gaza (requests now closed). He's napping after thumbnailing a bunch of comic pages :<

[raiiny-bay]

summer '93

[cougheemedicine]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

Word count: 2463

Warnings: Nudity, suggestive but nothing explicit (they bathe together), drinking (drink responsively kids), no beta we just die, the impending wrath of Fu Xuan, ooc? I've never written him before, I think that's it?

Content: Fluff, some angst right at the end but all is resolved, established relationship, Reader is a long-living species, Reader is shorter than Jing Yuan, other characters mentioned, they're whipped your honor

Summary: Due to your position in the Xianzhou Luofu's sky-faring commission, you are rarely home. Often gone for months at a time. Your dear husband never copes well with your time apart. He always makes sure to make up for lost time.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

   The ground under your feet slipped away before you knew it. So this is how it ends, this is how you die. Not the worst death one could have, you supposed.

       “General-“ A dying wheeze escapes you, “General, I can’t breathe.”

       Met only with a huff that sounded more annoyed than agreeing, the crushing weight on your ribcage lessens. If only slightly. Not enough for your feet to touch the ground, but enough for you to wiggle your arms out from where they were pinned to your sides, wrapping them around your husband’s shoulders.

       “I’ve missed you,” Low and hoarse, the deep baritone of Jing Yuan’s voice sends a shiver down your spine. You sigh, relenting to your husband’s affections. It had been months since you’d seen each other last. As the fleet-master of the Luofu’s sky-faring commission, one of your most important duties was to craft interstellar maps for all of the Luofu to use. The only way to do that was to go on the missions yourself, which could last between six to nine months.

       For the long-living Xhianzhou natives, nine months passed in the blink of an eye. For your beloved, equally as long-living husband? Nine months was torturous. The man laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You debated on whether you should drag him back to work to avoid the wrath of Lady Fu Xuan on your doorstep in an hour’s time, or repent and simply bask in the presence of your man. Who was real and tangible, embracing you instead of hushed words through a disembodied voice on the other side of your phone, or a pixelated figure sitting bored at a meeting you had to attend via a live hologram.

       As his hand slowly rubbed up and down your back, his other hand supporting you while you still dangled in the air. You found the decision easy to make. You craned your head, pressing your lips to his hairline, right above his ear. “I’ve missed you too, my love,”

       But, there was one thing amiss. Even as you felt Jing Yuan smile against the fabric of your shirt. You could also feel the eyes on your back. Both of your crew, and of Luofu citizens. None of the gazes malicious, just a bit invasive. You could also hear the whispers. The giggling and gossiping.

‘The general’s gone soft,’

’Aw, how sweet!’

’How adorable…’

       “People are watching, general,” You spoke up, raising a hand to run through the hair that escaped his ponytail, tightening your hold on the back of his neck to keep yourself up. Jing Yuan sighed contently, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Let them,”

       “General, I’d like to bathe, and get out of this armor,” You tugged lightly at his hair, pulling his head from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. Any normal person would’ve seen no difference in Jing Yuan’s face, but you were far from normal. After centuries of marriage, you could tell. The curve of his brow, and the pull of his frown. “Stop pouting, general,”

       He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. That tired, easy smile of his. He set you back on the ground, arms wrapped loosely around your waist. “Stop calling me general, then I’ll let you go,”

       Despite his words, he still let you go. Stepping to your right and linking his arm with yours. You shared a smile as you walked, leaving the port. “Whatever you say, Jing Yuan.”

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

        The sound that leaves your mouth as you sink into the steaming bath water would make even the most stone-faced of war veterans blush. You were never more grateful for the sheer lavishness of the general's residence than when you just return from a mission. The bath of the general's home was better described as a pool. Set in the tile floor, and large enough to fit ten people. The large window on the far wall overlooked the Luofu, saying the whole experience was lavish would be an understatement.

        The feel of tar running in your veins instead of blood finally subsiding as the salts and oils in the water sunk into your skin. You rest your arms on the edge of the bath, letting your head lull onto the tile behind you. You don't focus much on anything, eyes scanning the traditional Xianzhou architecture of the bathroom, and letting your limbs, heavy with fatigue, float weightless in the water.

        "Enjoying yourself, dear?"  Jing Yuan's voice brings you back from your trance, eyes bleary as his feet come into view. You slowly lift your gaze, shamelessly eyeing your husband in a thin robe that was far from befitting a general. He's holding a small, porcelain cup in each hand, intricately decorated, with a bottle of wine under his arm. Oh, how you've missed this. "Very much. Even more so now,"

        "I heard from your co-pilot that you had trouble with some rogue asteroids on your way back to the Luofu," He hums as he sets down the cups and bottle a small ways away from your head, settling behind you with a washcloth.

        You groan "Ugh, I don't want to talk about it. If it weren't for my navigators we wouldn't of been able to come back unscathed,"

        Jing Yuan coaxes you to lean forward, and you let out a rather undignified yelp when the cold soap on the washcloth touches your back. Jing Yuan laughs. you flick water at him.

        "I commend your navigator's skills. They seem very talented," Jing Yuan lathers the soap as he speaks, taking the washcloth across your shoulders and down your back. He then gently takes your right hand, running the washcloth down the length of your arm.

        "Of course they are, I taught them." Jest laces your tone, even as you submerge yourself to the neck to rid yourself of the suds. As you finish, you lay your head on Jing Yuan's crossed legs. Jing Yuan smiles softly, emotion swirling in the single eye you could see. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulls back, the washcloth long forgotten, he runs his thumb across your cheekbone, then down the bridge of your nose, and over the curve of your lips. You've long since closed your eyes, a smile pulling at your lips. "Join me?"

        Jing Yuan is silent for a beat, and you lift your head once more. "Your wish is my command."

        Jing Yuan stands, and you watch him walk to the stool you had set your own robe on. You watch him fiddle with the knot at his hip, then slowly shrug off one side of the robe, then the other. Making sure to stretch his arms above his head, allowing you the pleasure of seeing the entire expanse of his back and arms. You can sense the smile playing on his lips, and you know he can sense your staring. He's teasing you. You avert your eyes the moment his robe drops to the floor. 

       You feel him slip into the water beside you, letting out a groan very much like the one you had earlier. He smiles at you, his hand creeping up to the side of your head, guiding it down to rest on his shoulder. The two of you sit in silence a while, simply enjoying each other's presence. Months ago, silence meant sitting alone, in the cramped captain's quarters of your starskiff, charting maps and scribbling reports to send back home. Silence meant nights that seemed endless, hunched over your work, and being far, far away from home. Silence that was so loud you had wished so very hard for moments like this to happen more often. 

        Jing Yuan shifts under your head, offering you one of the cups he had brought in. Wordlessly, you take it, allowing him to pour the wine into your cup, then into his own. "Tell me," You pipe up, swirling the cup under your nose. The scent was light, you watch as he takes a sip "When was the last time we've shared a bottle like this?"

        "I can't say I recall. You're very cruel you know, keeping me waiting so long to repeat moments like this," Jing Yuan downs the rest of the contents of his cup, resuming his previous position at your side. "Fleet Master." 

        "Excuse you, we were right on schedule. Even after the whole event with the asteroids," You grin, playing with the fingers on Jing Yuan's free hand. "General-"

        Jing Yuan surges forward, before you even have half a mind to process, slotting his lips against yours. You hum, his lips taste of wine, and the scent of his shampoo roles off him in waves. One arm slung lazily around your back, the other keeping his cup above the water, he parts from your lips with a gasp, dipping his head to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck. You manage to suck in a breath right as he lifts his head again, mashing your lips together clumsily. Desperately. If you didn't know your husband better, you'd think him drunk. With how careless he was being. The sound of his porcelain cup clattering onto the tile beside you ringing sharp in your ear only proving your thoughts.

        His grip on you tightens, bringing his other hand up to push you even closer together, you throw your arms around his neck to stable yourself. You can feel every dip and contour of his body against yours, the callouses on his hand sliding up your back to between your shoulder blades as he brings you oh so much closer, his loose hair tickling your face when he hunches forward. Kissing you even harder.

        You're the one to pull away. Or perhaps it was him? You don't really have it in you to care.

        The both of you are panting like dogs. You let your arms around his neck go slack, and his hands drop from your back to your hips.

        It's silent again, only your breathing filling the room. Without really thinking, you raise a hand, cupping your husband's cheek. Immediately he leans into your touch, covering your hand with his own and pressing a flurry of kisses to your palm. His face is flushed, pink from his cheeks to his ears, and his lips bruised. Truly a sight for your sore eyes.

        You peck Jing Yuan's cheek, the one you aren't holding, laughing quietly against his skin. He joins you, a deep chuckle that always brought a pleasant warmth to your chest. It was rare for Jing Yuan to laugh to heartily, even rarer for you to even be present to hear it. You don't think you'll ever tire of the sound. He presses his lips to your temple. "I think we better leave before we become prunes,"

        "Always so wise, my dear,"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

       “Jing Yuan, I can’t walk with you both leaning on me,” You whine. Jing Yuan groans, leaning more of his weight onto you. His grip on the front of your night shirt tightens, wrinkling the light fabric as Mimi curls around your legs, head butting your thigh. A chuffing sound leaves the lion, as if she were laughing at you. Jing Yuan rests his chin on your shoulder, cheeks still pink from the heat of the bath.

        “Don’t be mean, she’s missed you,” He lightens his iron grip on you, running a hand through the fur on Mimi's back. You smell opportunity. You worm your way out of your husband's arms, as warm and comfortable as they are, you still need to walk. Narrowly dodging his hand, fully intent on tugging you right back, you stride on down the corridor. You needn't look back to see Jing Yuan huff and cross his arms, dragging his feet as he follows you.

        The moment you close the sliding door to your shared chambers, you're shoved onto the unnecessarily large bed. Jing Yuan crawls over you as you shuffle up to the pillows. He straddles you, a leg on each side of your torso, keeping you down with a hand on your shoulder. As you settle your hands on his hips, you feel the bed dip once more. From around Jing Yuan, you watch as Mimi sprawls out over the entire foot of the bed. A hand on your chin guides your eyes back to your husband's face. He leans down, kissing you gently. Your hands travel, from his hips to his waist, then up his chest and over his shoulders. You settle your hands in his hair, running your nails over his scalp. Sliding a hand down his nape to his shoulders, you gently push him down, letting him put all his weight on you.

        "This isn't uncomfortable, is it?" Jing Yuan lowly asks, barely above a whisper. He's already shifting his legs, leaving only his chest resting on yours. Always attentive, your Jing Yuan.

        "No love, it's perfectly fine," You sigh, continuing to card your fingers through his hair.

        Jing Yuan hums, pecking your forehead then the tip of your nose. He lowers himself till his head is cushioned by your chest, pressing another kiss to your collar bone before settling down right above your heart, curling his arms around your ribs.

        Mimi huffs, and you hear her breathing become slow. You've certainly missed this. You can feel Mimi's tail sway against your calf in her sleep, and Jing Yuan tightens his grip around you, you can feel his every breath against the thin fabric of your shirt. You continue scratching at his scalp. "Jing Yuan?"

        You hear him mumble something, he throws a leg over yours.

        "I'm sorry I'm away so often," It stings. Whenever you leave. The silent nights holed away in your office, or piloting your vessel. The homesickness eating at you the minute you leave port. Sometimes you can't help but think that having someone so dear be so far away takes a toll that isn't worth the pay off.

        "Distance makes the heart grow fonder, my love," Jing Yuan replies, muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and slurred by exhaustion.

        On second thought. Maybe having someone tying you to your home was a good thing. Who knows if you'd ever return from the stars if someone wasn't waiting at home. Speaking of home...

        "Jing Yuan, how did you convince Qingzu and Lady Fu to leave you be for so long?"

        The man stiffens in your hold.

        "Jing Yuan!"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

work belongs to @cougheemedicine, all forms of plagiarism, modifying, translating, reposting are not allowed.

[tiredlylaughing]

future gravity falls au where dipper and pacifica get married really young.

it seems like the last thing either of them would do but they're tired of their relationship not being taken seriously even after dating for years, especially by pacifica's parents, so they run away and get married.

some other ideas i have

dipper proposes after his graduation party. everyone from gravity falls was at the shack to support him and celebrate, and when he and pacifica are alone he pulls out the ring

he apologizes to her for not having a better proposal but pacifica doesn't take much convincing to run away and she cries when she says yes

when the party is over and only their closest friends are left they try to get out as sneakily as possible

they run into soos and dipper gets convinced he has to go to the wedding to be his best man

they run into wendy and she says she has to go and offers to help with the drive there

they run into stan and ford. ford is shocked about it, dipper wants him not to be disappointed but wether or not he is he's doing it anyway. there's probably quite a bit of apprehension about the reasons for it, they'd both be the first to consider maybe it was because of an accidental pregnancy, but once those suspicions are cleared out stan feels very proud of dipper, for taking the step of rebellion, for doing something with bravery, for following stan's parenting in his own way (he was always scared dipper would end up being exactly like ford and one day he'd hate him). he cries but he doesn't let anyone see that, and he convinces ford to let the kids do it so long as they bring them to the wedding.

mabel i'm not so sure about. maybe dipper told her before anyone else, maybe she figured it out on her own, maybe she finds out the day he proposes before everyone else or after everyone else, once she notices the entire house going somewhere in a hurry.

they go to a small chapel, pacifica gets a pretty dress that's sort of white and a veil from a costume, dipper gets an unironed suit that was gathering dust in his closet.

dipper promises to give her a big wedding one day, the best wedding she could ever want, but pacifica knows there will never be one as perfect as this

[tsotg]

The Monster Hunter and the Hunted Monster

I thought of another universe I might wanna make content for. I know a lot of people already have this type of AU already but I can't resist making my own ;;-;;

Imagine Hiccup has been hunting Jack for ages. Jack has been one of the few creatures he's never been able to catch and that type of challenge is exhilarating. So he keeps trying to find him, luring him out with the threat of harm to his precious forest.

One day, for a reason or another, Pitch curses them both. They're both lost and trapped in a new and un familiar environment. Hiccup is overjoyed that he's finally able to catch Jack when they bump into each other but that feeling doesn't last long. They're both kind of terrified of where they are but won't show it to each other, instead letting it out as anger towards each other.

A few days into their banishment, Hiccup gets desperate. There's no animals to hunt, nothing to grow, he's starving and it doesn't seem like he's gonna get any food any time soon. So he goes to Jack and begs to know how he's not hungry. Jack replies with how he obviously doesn't get hungry because he's a spirit.

Hiccup breaks in front of him, he tells him how scared he is and how much he wants to go back home. Jack gets surprised, of all people, he would've never expected Hiccup to show this much vulnerability.

Jack feels the same as he does, he's scared and he wants to go home. And after settling down and making sure Hiccup isn't trying to trick him, he tells him so.

They talk about how much they love their home, about anything that comes to mind really. Until Hiccup has a fainting spell. Jack hurries to help him but has no idea how humans work anymore. He's been in his forest for so long.

When Hiccup wakes up, Jack asks him what happened. Hiccup reminds him how hungry he is and how little energy his body has. Jack hesitates before telling Hiccup how he has saved people lost in the forest in the same situation before but he's not gonna like how it's done.

Hiccup brushes it off, it can't be that bad right?

Jack presses his lips together in an awkward smile.

"Well- Not a lot of people get lost in the woods you know. And the children can see and hear me no problem. They follow the animals out of the forest. I've only done this twice and the first time I didn't even know I could do it so it wasn't super successful..."

"Just spit it out, if you can save me, do it. I want to go home after we get out of this shit hole."

Jack thought about telling him for a second but he doubted Hiccup would let him after hearing of the process.

"Ok, close your eyes then."

"Why?"

"It'll be easier for the both of us."

So Hiccup closed his eyes after giving Jack an eye roll. Jack took Hiccup's chin, opening his mouth slightly, braced himself and leaned in. As soon as their lips connected, Hiccup jumped in surprise and tried to push Jack away but couldn't find the strength in time before he realized what was happening.

This wasn't just a kiss, Jack's eyes glowed and his skin slowly lost the little colour it had left. He was transferring his energy to Hiccup. And Hiccup felt alive again. He leaned in slightly and enjoyed the feeling this gave him. Until he felt Jack's grasp on him weakened and he regained he train of thought again.

Jack took a second to snap out of the daze this put him in. Hiccup feared for a the worst for a second before Jack blinked a few times and his eyes went back to normal. He looked around for a second, almost looking as if he had no idea where he was. His eyes locked onto Hiccup and fear crept onto his expression. Hiccup felt him tense up in his arms. And then just like that, he took a breath for the first time since Hiccup closed his eyes and he looked normal again.

"For the Gods, if you told me this was gonna kill you I wouldn't have let you to do it!" Hiccup scolded.

"I didn't know it would do that. It never did in my forest." Jack looked off in the distance to ponder for a bit before what Hiccup said actually registered in his head. "Wait you're worried about me?"

"That's not the point."

"Yes it is!"

Jack gave Hiccup as teasing grin. Hiccup completely disconnected from the conversation and got up. Jack couldn't hold back, he kept teasing Hiccup as he tried to walk away.

"Well look who's feeling better." Hiccup tried to say it in a sarcastic tone but couldn't hold back a small smile.

==============

RAHHH PLEASE tell me if you wanna read more!! I will write more! And maybe I'll draw some better art of these gays.

[blu-ish]

🌦️Song of the storm (Sonadow fic)

...

It seemed like it was never ending. The rain poured like a faucet throughout the forest, bending leaves and branches down with a powerful force. Completely soaking the soil below. It was almost as if the world itself wept. Shadow couldn’t help but stare in awe, almost completely forgetting the figure that sat beside him. 

“It’s coming down pretty hard huh.” Sonic said, leaning a bit forward to look out at the darkened sky from their makeshift shelter in a small cave. Small wasn’t even the correct term, there was barely enough room for the both of them. However, Shadow could appreciate the hedgehog’s attempt at digging some of the dirt out to create some extra space.

He could see Sonic reaching out his muddy gloves to wash with the streaming water on the cave's lip. The ebony hedgehog hummed in agreement, “Yes, it is.”

“Interrupted our race too!” The blue hedgehog pouted, which was sorta amusing Shadow supposed. 

“It’s no biggie though, the plants needed a drink.” Shadow grimaced as Sonic shook his hands to which he could only fathom was to dry them, not so much himself though. He grumbled, shooting a glare at the hedgehog who only chuckled nervously in response.

All became silent yet again in the hedgehog's burrow, all except the song of the storm.

Another hour passed, and a second, and then a third, soon both hedgehogs seemed to grow sick of their shelter turned prison. 

Shadow hugged his knees, there was no possible connection out here to get in touch with Rouge or Omega. Even Sonic had tried to contact Tails, Amy, and even Knuckles at one point– which surprised the hybrid because he wasn’t even aware the echidna could get a signal on his floating island.  

Shadow didn’t necessarily get cold, but each time a drop of water happened to make its way inside and landed on him, he would shiver at the sensation. He started to wonder why Maria ever told him she had once dreamed of standing in the middle of one of these like they did in her novels.

He was really debating if maybe he should just convince Sonic to make a run for it and find their way back home. But he realized Sonic’s brother’s workshop would most likely be miles from where they both decided to get lost too. He mentally kicked himself for not thinking about any of this before, why is it whenever that hedgehog drags him into anything he loses himself?

Shadow’s ears suddenly perked up, a noise, almost a murmur at first came from Sonic’s direction. He turned slowly to face him as he realized Sonic was singing. He couldn’t name what song it could possibly be, Shadow knew very little of the modern day artists. But he never took Sonic for one who could possibly carry a tune. 

“What song is that?” He found himself asking, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “If I may ask.”

Sonic blinked, he took a moment to just stare at the other hedgehog, almost like he had no clue what he was talking about. Which just caused Shadow to get even more embarrassed and frustrated that he said anything at all. That was until a lightbulb seemed to go off in Sonic’s head, he “oohed” and smiled. 

“That? It’s a lullaby, I used to sing it all the time to Tails whenever we were traveling and I would spend hours trying to get him to sleep.” He smiled fondly, eyes drifting in thought. “He doesn’t do too well in thunderstorms.” Shadow could faintly catch the blue hedgehog’s frown.

“I see.” Shadow said a little more plainly then he’d hoped. So he added, “You're worried.”

Sonic simply shrugged, “What can I say, I’m his brother. That’s all I’ll ever do.” He laughed, and Shadow found himself softly doing so as well. 

As time went on, the hedgehogs found themselves telling each other stories to pass the time. Sonic would make Shadow swear on his “coffee beans” every time not to tell Tails all the embarrassing stories he’s told him about when he was a fox pup. Shadow found it rather odd, he wouldn’t tell, but if it gave the strange hedgehog reassurance he would go along with it.

Soon the stories shifted to Sonic's childhood. Shadow never realized how long Sonic was alone when he was younger, about his life on Christmas Island. How he described the world, how even then he was willing to risk his life for all who inhabit it. The hybrid was reminded how he spent his own early days, on the Ark, but he had Maria. Just like how Sonic has Tails. 

Without really realizing it, Shadow had started telling Sonic more about his past. The experiments, the pain. About how much pressure he felt on his shoulders trying his damn hardest to be a cure for her. That’s all he ever wanted to be.

He’s not sure how it became so easy to talk about these things, he supposed it took time. Especially with someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. But he concluded that’s exactly the reason why, because while he and Sonic were complete opposites at times… they were an exact mirror image of the other. A mere reflection of who they are inside, two hedgehogs willing to risk it all to protect the world and all they love, for who they love.

They were only interrupted by the occasional sharp clap of thunder that would echo through the woods. Causing them to jump only a few times, and then laugh once more.

Soon, Shadow didn’t even notice until he glanced down that he and Sonic were basically leaning on each other. He suspected the blue hedgehog was cold, and surprisingly, he didn’t mind. He knew how Sonic felt about personal space, that was something they had in common after all. 

“How are you doing, with all this water?” As much as Shadow relished the silence, he was genuinely curious. Sonic let out a delayed “hm?”, he realized he might have caught the hero dozing off. 

“You think I can’t survive a bit of rain Shads?” Sonic scoffed with a toothy grin. “How dare you.”

Shadow’s quills stood up ever so slightly, clearly annoyed. “That’s not what I was insinuating at all.” He moved his arm away from Sonic, a very clear cold filling the void. They both noticed it, and stopped. They didn’t dare bring attention to it.

Sonic instead for whatever reason, shifted, standing as close as he could to “standing up” as he could get in the burrow. He glanced over at Shadow who was looking at him with what he guessed was an amusing expression since the blue hedgehog stifled a laugh.

“Want me to show you instead?” Sonic asked, reaching a hand out to Shadow. Right when he thought he was just starting to understand this hedgehog that confused him so, he goes and does something he would never expect. Especially from someone he knows has an innate fear of water. 

“What do you think you're doing, Sonic?” 

“You don’t have to,” Sonic said almost unnaturally softly. “But, I want you to trust me.”

Shadow sat there for a moment, trying to juggle his options as quickly as his mind allowed him. But as soon as Sonic started to put his hand down Shadow swiftly reached and took it. An action that felt a little too familiar.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I will.”

Sonic grinned, and at that same time Shadow could feel a strange twist in his chest. Perhaps he has been in here too long.

The rain was surprisingly not as wild as before as they exited their shelter, with rays of sunlight peeking through the whitening clouds above. The raindrops caught onto both their quills, beading down one by one. It was almost refreshing, but still cold, very cold.

Except for the warmth that came from Sonic’s hand. He felt that weird twist again as soon as he let go. 

“See?” Sonic uttered, breaking Shadow out of his plaguing thoughts. “Nothing to it, a little water never hurt me!”

Unbeknownst to Sonic however, Shadow could see how often his ears flicked as the water touched them, or how his fingers flexed with anticipation. As soon as Sonic’s quills started standing up, Shadow confirmed that Sonic was, in fact, not enjoying this. Which gave the hybrid an idea. 

“I see, how about a challenge then.” Shadow stated, grabbing the blue hedgehogs attention rather quickly. He grinned.

“A race, in the rain.” He then pointed back toward the direction of which he hoped would be one of the Mobian villages they were previously at before their first race. 

“First one back wins.” 

Sonic smiled, “Oh, you're on Shads!”

As they got into position, Sonic dug his shoes into the mud, trying to get as much of a grip as he could. Shadow had already felt at a slight disadvantage since his air shoes relied on heat from his chaos energy to activate; he was sure they’d work just fine, but he was hardly thinking about the mud. The rain that sprinkled his skin, kept his mind from wandering for too long.

From the moment they took off to the moments they stole glances at one another. The rain was there. 

They twisted and winded their way in between the trees, over boulders, and across the grassy hills. And again their race had turned into a game. A game of chase, just like before.

Sonic would lose Shadow, but then Shadow would find him. Shadow would hide behind something, then purposely bump into Sonic. They’re usual competitiveness was still there, but soon something else was too.

They would circle each other occasionally, with little to no real known reason between them. It was almost like a dance, one Shadow didn’t see himself losing. 

Their combined speed broke through the rain, sending raindrops flying in every direction with each sonic boom. The sound in perfect sync with the distant thunder. Each breath filled with damp air. The earth under his skates, and someone to enjoy it with right next to him.

With the village in view, he could feel Sonic beside him speed up, and so did he. He blinked raindrops out of his eyes, using a bit more energy to pass Sonic ever so slightly. 

Until it hit him.

He saw Sonic zoom away, seemingly not realizing Shadow stopped until he was a bit farther away. The blue hedgehog came rushing back, worried.

“Shadow?” He could feel his eyes darting around him, he slowly got closer to Shadow. “Are you okay, why did you stop?”

Shadow chuckled, staring up into the sky with a smile. “This is what she meant, by being in the rain.”

Sonic paused, he raised a curious brow, but smiled fondly anyway.

The two hedgehogs squinted as the sun finally made it completely through the clouds, the rain reduced to occasional sprinkles as the warmth reached them.

Shadow felt Sonic nudge him a bit, raising his arm over his shoulder. The hybrid rolled his eyes and leaned into it. Just this once.

They watched the clouds for a bit before Sonic spoke up, “You do realize I won right?”

“Oh? Did you?” Shadow peered up a bit, he felt Sonic stutter before clearing his throat. 

“Uh, yeah! You're the one who decided to have a moment in the rain while I crossed into town.” He smiled. “So what do I win?”

Shadow shrugged, “I wasn’t planning to lose, so I didn’t think that far.” he said flatly.

Sonic fake scoffed, “Oh, how you hurt me so~” Yeah, he was still as annoying as ever.

He eased Sonic away from him as he pointed a finger to the blue hedgehog's chest. “You decide what you win then.” 

Sonic had paused for a moment, back to staring at the other, and for a second Shadow could almost sense some sort of inner turmoil. Before he could ask Sonic shouted.

“Don Fachio’s chili dogs! I’m starving!” Sonic finally said, quite enthusiastically too, before adding slyly, “Your treat.”

“Fine.” Shadow could do that. But not before shooting Sonic an unheated glare. “But, you owe me one for getting us caught in that storm.”

“It’s a date then.” The blue hedgehog replied teasingly. Shadow couldn’t believe for the life of him that only a few hours ago he was letting his heart leak a bit and telling Sonic things he’s never told anyone. It was becoming a troublesome habit. But he supposed Sonic did the same, he knows a lot remained unsaid, and he’s not sure when they’d ever reveal themselves. But he did know one thing.

He wouldn’t mind being caught in the rain with him again.

[yesokayiknow]

do you ever think about how one of doctor who's most famous time loop episodes (heaven sent) isn't a time loop. like the fact that time is passing normally is a huge plot point

[leave-her-a-tome]

For every note I'll write a page in my wip next year

[cerise-on-top]

what if the 141 boys had a ridiculously tall husband. like. a little bit taller than konig, probably. and he's really scary to people, actually!!!! but not his s/o , nuh uh, he's disgustingly sweet to his beloved.. sorry i'm rambling, i think (jokes and idiocy aside i adore your headcanons <3)

Hey there! Thank you, that's very kind of you! Also thank you for sending in a request for a male reader, you're one of the first ones and I was very excited to write about a male reader for once :D

TF141 With A Very Tall Husband

Price: He didn’t really think he’d ever be dating someone much, much taller than him. Sure, he doesn’t particularly mind, but he’s not short either, with him standing at 1,88m himself. It makes him feel small at times, especially if you’re pretty muscular too. He doesn’t get insecure about it in the slightest, oh no, but it’s weird to be so much shorter than your loved ones. However, he’s pretty used to scary people by now. Ghost isn’t exactly a delight to have around at first when you don’t know him either, so he knows how to deal with scary people. Might ask you to tone it down a little bit when you’re scaring other people too much, he doesn’t particularly wanna attract attention like that. But you being a sweetheart towards him? It melts his heart. He knows what you’re like towards people that aren’t him, so it makes him smile that you’re willing to do just about anything for him just to spend some time with him. You wanna trim his beard? There’s a good chance you’ve got some experience with that anyway, so he really doesn’t mind it as much. Hell, he probably trusts you more than his own barber at times. Besides, it’s a nice little bonding activity. If you have a beard then he’ll offer to trim it for you as well. Price isn’t really opposed to being the little spoon, or just being held in general. Quite the opposite, you being this tall sometimes puts him in a cuddly mood where he just plops down into your arms. Gently scratch his scalp and there’s a good chance he’ll even fall asleep on you. He’s so used to being everyone’s protector, it feels nice to be protected for once. But he won’t always settle for being held either, it’s his job to make you feel safe and sound as well, and thus he will take on the role of cuddler as well. Will fight you for that role, actually. Price is a real sweetheart towards his loved ones as well, so I think the two of you would fit well together. His mere presence demands respect in the right people, which can sometimes scare others. So, from time to time, you might both scare other people together. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally.

Gaz: He makes so many jokes about you being this tall and feigns being hurt about being much shorter than you are. You’re his behemoth, his leviathan and his ziz. Loves calling you the names of monsters that are said to be pretty big, it’s endearing to him. Besides, you’re scary enough that some people call you a monster anyway, if just for your height. If anyone ever were to call you that in front of Gaz, then they’ll end up with a black eye. No one gets to call you a monster but him. While he won’t always approve of you scaring everyone, Gaz does have a few friends that he wants you to get along with, he won’t particularly do anything about it either if that’s just what you’re like. Might try to make you seem a bit less scary by being a bit more affectionate with you in public. Holding your hand, giving you a peck on the cheek, giving you a hug. Those kinds of things. He actually loves you being this tall since that means you can pick him up and spin him around. He’s not been picked up ever since he was a little boy, so he definitely wouldn’t mind you showing off to him just how strong you are. Is also always looking for an excuse to hold your hand. Oh, seems like he forgot just how big your hand actually is and how much it engulfs his. Remind him for a moment and hold his hand, will you? Gaz is a sweetheart towards his loved ones anyway, if you look past the fact he will sass anyone to show his affection, so he loves that you’re so sweet towards him. Though, sometimes he wishes you were about the same height so you could actually share each other’s wardrobe. But hey, at least he gets to wear your extremely oversized shirts and hoodies, one of his favorite things to do. Another thing he also adores is just sitting in your lap when you’re home together and will also place your hands so that you’re holding him in your arms. If you’ve got really warm hands then he’ll place them atop his thighs to keep himself warm. Gaz isn’t the warmest person out there, but that just means you get to warm him up yourself. Is actually a lot cuddlier because you’re this tall and will become your personal blanket.

Ghost: He feels kind of perplexed about you being so much taller than him. Ghost is 1,95m, he towers over pretty much anyone, so how dare you be so much taller than him. Pretends to hate you being this tall, actually loves it. Sometimes he dreams of sparring with you under the moonlight to assert his dominance, even though there’s really no need to since you’re such a sweetheart towards him. He probably just needs to ask and would get anything from you. He really doesn’t mind you scaring pretty much everyone off, he has the same effect on people he doesn’t know. That just means there’s less people to worry about in his life for the time being. You’ll be spending a lot of time alone with each other that way, which he really likes. Though, maybe don’t scare his teammates too much, he genuinely likes them and wants them to be well too. Though, it’s kind of hard to properly scare them anyway. Ghost is usually a pretty quiet man when there’s no need for chit chat, but he doesn’t mind hearing your voice. In fact, he might get worried if you suddenly stop talking and will ask you what’s wrong. If you’ve got nothing to talk about then he’ll ask some questions so he can continue hearing your voice. He also blushes from time to time when you suddenly give him some sugary sweet compliments. He’s a grown, scary military man, he really shouldn’t be, but it’s just so endearing, especially when you, even bigger and scarier, call him your little honey bunny. It actually motivates him to do house chores. Not that he won’t do them anyway, but you calling him embarrassingly domestic names makes him just a tad bit soft, which leads to him trying to be a good husband. You may cuddle him since he trusts you, but he will also want to hold you from time to time. Life is a constant give and take, so prepare to be cuddled. Won’t particularly ask for cuddles, though, since he’s kind of too embarrassed to admit he’s touch starved. To you it’s blatantly obvious, though, which is why you initiate those cuddling sessions. Ghost appreciates it and sometimes hides a smile in either the pillow or your neck. As long as you don’t see him being silly, all is good.

Soap: He used to hate you being this tall. Soap may “only” be of average height, but he’s the tallest in his family, which he was actually pretty proud of. He towered over his father, even. And then he joined the military, where quite a few people were taller than him. And then you had the audacity to introduce yourself to him. You, the tallest man he’s ever met. It hurt his ego. Ever since you got together, though, he slowly got over it. You’re just such a sweetheart, how could he hate you over something as trivial as this? However, nothing could ever stop him from trying to pick you up and spinning you around. Soap is a pretty strong lad too, he’ll make it work somehow. You will feel tiny and cared for too. There’s a good chance he can’t reach your lips to kiss you. Yes, he could just ask you to bend down, but where’s the fun in that? Climbs you like a tree instead. He’s also always thinking of that one post where, instead of asking their boyfriend, the person should just punch him in the stomach. He won’t do it, but he remembers it every time without fail. He doesn’t mind you being scary either. Hell, Ghost is also a pretty scary guy to have around when you don’t know him and he’s one of Soap’s closest friends. Besides, he knows better anyway. You’re a total goof and the biggest sweetheart this world has ever seen. You being scary towards others just means that he’s got you all to himself all the time. Soap is a clingy guy, so you can expect him to cling to you like a koala from time to time. Actually, that was a lie, you should expect him to jump at you and hold onto you very often. Cuddles over safety. You’re likely also one of the only people on the planet willing to hear him out when he’s talking about his passions. And he could go on for hours every time. Explosives, weapons, whatever show you’re watching together, all is fair game. See, you’re one of the biggest sweethearts to him because you actually listen to him, despite him going into great detail about it all. You may not always be able to understand him when he’s talking chemistry again, but you hear him out anyway, and for that alone you’ve won his heart. He also sits on your lap while talking. You’re his little throne now that he takes immense pride in.

[solacium]

touch // aventurine

i think he would be like a cat. come to you for affection? not a chance in hell. but ok..... you know maybe lean his head on your shoulder while you're reading on the couch. maybe you shift to accommodate him, drape an arm across his shoulders, pull him in, almost absently. no sudden movements, you'll scare him off. and if you're just gentle enough, he might let you. might remain where he is, head on your shoulder, unmoving but for the rise and fall of his breathing. no searching hands, no reaching — but you can stroke his hair, softly, occasionally. twirl it around your finger idly, no tugging, not too much. it'll make him smile, on a good day, but only when you're not looking.

today, he just sighs. you don't ask how he is — some things can't be put into words, and that's not what his are for — but you can rest your head atop his, breathe along with him, arm around his shoulders firm and gentle. if you're attentive, you'll feel the way he slowly, reluctantly lets go of the tension in his body— the coil in the base of his skull, the taut line drawing his shoulders up imperceptibly. he'll learn to melt in your hands, one day, but you'll have to earn it. for now, this is enough. maybe you melt first, forget what you were paying attention to initially, feel the warm weight of him against your frame, the scent of him, the ebb and flow of his breath, slowing to match yours; his pulse, slowing to match yours. he's let you this close, he might fall asleep on you. if you notice, you'll put what you're looking at away and twine the fingers of your other hand with his. he won't know how to ask for it, but if he hasn't completely drifted off, he'll squeeze your hand, gently. sleep, you'll whisper, i'll be here. and he won't reply, but you'll feel him press closer, soften against the shape of you, drift away. you watch him for a moment, watch the fan of his light lashes against his cheek, and how his eyes flick beneath his lids with unseen dreams. if you fall asleep with him, you might catch him as you're waking, an uncharacteristic softness in his features, before he notices you've noticed. maybe if the time is right, he won't care that you have. but you won't speak of it. you'll both wake, and he'll interrupt the moment, eventually, rise from the couch, put the mask back on, but the sweetness of it will linger, barely perceptible, only to you.

[itsjaywalkers]

a lil smth under the cut for u guys <3

part 2 part 3

"Potter, if you dare to step any closer, I swear I will knock your teeth out."

Potter halts his advancement as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, but Regulus remains tense, alert, shoulders stiff and hands itching to curl into fists. Maybe it's because he knows Potter more than enough after all these weeks of watching his matches and interviewing him after them. Weeks of listening to him brag, and taunt, and flirt shamelessly, despite Regulus always being set on retaining some sense of professionalism.

Maybe it's because of the way he smirks at Regulus' threat, or how he raises both hands in mock surrender, the gesture lazy and insincere.

Or maybe it's the fact that they're alone in the ring, even though Regulus should've left with his crew more than half an hour ago. And the fact that Potter isn't wearing a shirt, but he seems to be allergic to them, anyway, so it's not like it fazes him at this point.

That's what he keeps telling himself, at least.

"You can certainly try," Potter says with his hands still up, and offering a tiny shrug. "I don't know if I like your chances, though."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "You don't think I can fight you?"

"I don't think you can win."

He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets out a scoff, and Potter's smirk seems to grow bigger at the sound.

"And why the fuck not?" Regulus questions.

"Because I'm a professional boxer, love," Potter explains, his voice patient, but there's a certain mocking edge in his words that makes Regulus grits his teeth. "I wouldn't be where I am if someone like you could touch me."

"Someone like me?" Regulus repeats a bit incredulously. He can already feel that one vein in his forehead starting to pop out.

James chuckles, shaking his head a little. He finally drops his arms down. "You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't. And I'm not sure I want to."

"C'mon, love—"

"Don't call me that."

"—you don't even know how to throw a punch."

Regulus blinks at him, not sure if he's heard correctly, and then he does a double take, barely repressing a derisive snort.

"Excuse me?" he murmurs. "Of course I know how to throw a punch."

"You think you know how to throw a punch," Potter corrects him, that infuariating smile still in place. Regulus is tempted to prove him how well he can actually throw a punch just to wipe it off his face.

"I mean, obviously I can't do it like you do, you're a professional athlete, for fuck's sake—"

"Oh, love, don't worry, I'd never hold you to my standards," Potter intervenes with a laugh, eyes shining with mirth. Regulus face is beginning to heat up, and he isn't sure if it's because of anger or something else. "I'm not talking about a boxing punch. I'm talking about a proper punch."

Regulus exhales loudly, fingers twitching. "Potter."

"Yeah?"

"I know how to throw a fucking proper punch."

Potter raises an eyebrow and he lets his gaze to go up and down the length of Regulus' body, slow and intentional. Regulus has a hard time not squirming, battling against his instincts to keep his face empty, to stop his thighs from pressing together.

"I bet you don't," Potter comments, once his eyes finally find Regulus' again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make breathing any easier. "You're too pretty to have been getting into fights."

Regulus is unable to suppress an indignant huff, cheeks coulouring at an alarming pace while his expression twists into a scowl.

"You don't fucking know me," he seethes, jaw so clenched it's slowly becoming painful. "You've got no idea of how my life looks like, or what I've done to get where I'm at."

Potter seems unbothered by the outburst. In fact, he kind of looks a little entertained.

"Maybe so," he concedes with a tilt of his head. "But I know you'd break easy."

Regulus' heart skips a beat. "I don't—"

"Just look at you," Potter goes on, staring him up and down once again. He still sounds slightly mocking, but there's something else in his tone this time. Something darker. "So fucking gorgeous. Holding yourself like you're goddamn royalty. You're feisty, and you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but you'd fold embarrisingly fast against me, wouldn't you, love?"

Regulus gulps, throat suddenly so dry it feels like sandpaper. He tries to shake his head, but his body isn't responding, and when he opens his mouth to snap back, nothing comes out of it.

"You like to act all tough and cold and as if nothing can touch you, but if I were to lay my hands on you—"

"Potter," Regulus manages to spit out, but it sounds hoarse. Weak.

"Oh, you'd break so beautifully for me, right, love? You'd put a bit of a fight at first, because you can't help yourself, and I like that about you anyway, but you'd let go at some point."

"Potter," he tries again, and it sounds a bit sharper, but still too close to a whimper for Regulus' tastes.

"I'd fucking ruin you if you allowed me to, Regulus." His name makes him tremble, goosebumps breaking into his skin, and Regulus has to bite his tongue to stop an inappropriate noise from escaping. "I know you want to. You're really fucking stubborn, and you almost fooled me that first time, that's true, but one can only keep that facade for so long. I've seen how you look at me."

"And how do I look at you?"

"Like all those girls who can't ask me for an autograph without blushing, thinking of me when they have their hands between their legs," Potter responds, gaze so intense it makes Regulus want to scream. "Like your cameraman whenever I stand a bit too close to him, always shifting his body the slightest bit so his shoulder grazes mine. Like Lily whenever I'm between her thighs, and she's begging me to let her come."

Regulus almost gasps, burning with fury but also with something that has nothing to do with it.

The audacity of this man, really. Regulus hates him. Despises him, even. Him and his absurd amount of confidence that has no business being this attractive.

It's hard to pretend to be unaffacted. To pretend he doesn't feel a stab in his stomach by that last statement, by the thought of James and Lily being together, even though it's something he's known almost since the beginning. To act like he doesn't care, like he isn't fucking aching between his legs, wet and hot and desperate.

Regulus doesn't think he completely manages it.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," Regulus grinds out, digging his nails into his arms so hard he's sure to leave marks.

"And yet I'm not hearing you deny it," Potter sing-songs, still grinning widely.

"I don't like you," Regulus insists, raising his chin.

"But you want me to fuck you."

This time, a strangled sound, high-pitched and bordering on needy, manages to slip out of Regulus' mouth, and James shows teeth, that feral light that appears every time he wins a match shining in his brown eyes.

"You wish," Regulus says, trying to save whatever dignity he has left, trying to fix this stupid mistake, this amateur slip up.

"I do," Potter confirms with ease, and Regulus can't swallow properly with the knot he has stuck in between his vocal chords.

"Shut up," it's all that Regulus can get out, which is quite pathetic, but still better than nothing.

"That's still not a denial," Potter points out, satisfaction oozing of him and making Regulus see red.

"I literally can't fucking stand you. I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you that I don't want anything to do with you," Regulus snaps. "Besides, if so many people are tripping all over themselves for you, then I don't understand why you're not bothering them instead."

"Because I want you."

Regulus actually chokes after that, a gulp of air getting stuck in his throat and his heart beating madly between his ribs.

"No." He shakes his head, furiously, desperately, and takes a step back almost at the same time that Potter takes a step forward.

"Yes," the other man presses, undeterred. "I want you, Regulus."

"Potter. Shut up."

"I can make you feel so good, love. You need to stop depriving yourself."

"Potter."

"I know you've thought about it. About me. I'm sure you're thinking about it now, about how amazing I'd feel between your legs, on top of you. Inside you."

"Potter. Stop."

"I bet your underwear is fucking soaked—"

"James."

It slips, sneaking past his lips without Regulus' permission, going unnoticed until it's too late to stop it, or take it back. He has the silly urge to cover his mouth with his mouth, as if that'd be enough to erase the word, the power and implications that name holds.

The reaction is almost immediate.

James' pupils spread out, eating at his irises at a concerning pace. Regulus is so distracted looking at them, that it takes him a moment to realise James is advancing, rushing towards him like a man on a mission.

Regulus retreats, nearly falling over in his haste, doing his best to get as far away from the other man as possible. But James is faster than him, and his back ends up colliding against one of the pillars of the ring. James has his arms bracketing his head in a matter of seconds, and all of a sudden, Regulus is trapped. With absolutely nowhere to go.

"Get away from me!" Regulus exclaims, voice all wrong and wobbly, hands coming up to push at James' chest but not daring to touch.

"Say it again," James demands, completely ignoring him.

"What?"

"Say it again."

Regulus scoffs weakly. "I don't want to."

"Regulus."

"Get. The fuck. Away. From me."

"Regulus."

It shakes him to his very core, and he's helpless to the shudder that rattles his frame, to the way his eyes screw close, so very tight his vision fills up with shiny spots.

When he opens them again, a few moments later, he ends up meeting James' hungry gaze head on.

It destroys the last of his defences.

"James," he repeats in a whisper, heat coiling in his stomach at the other man's intake of breath.

"Again," James asks, almost demands, voice low and strained.

"James."

"Again." And it's a beg.

"James."

"Yeah," the other man mumbles to himself. "Yeah."

James leans forward, and Regulus feels like he's about go into cardiac arrest until James turns his head at the very last second, mouth grazing the lobe of his ear instead of his lips.

"I'll teach you," he tells him softly. Quietly.

"What?" he asks, hardly breathing and refusing to move a single muscle.

James huffs, and it's amused. "How to throw a punch."

"My brother already taught me," Regulus retorts with a roll of his eyes. "And he's better than you."

"Was better than me," James shoots back, and despite this being a topic that usually annoys him, always getting him all petty and defensive, it barely drags an irritated sigh out of him this time.

"Winning one match doesn't mean anything."

"Except that it does."

"No, it doesn't. Sirius' been unbeatable for literal years, and he's worked his arse off to get to where he is, and you'll never—"

"C'mon, love," James whines against his ear, and Regulus has to swallow a gasp. "I'll lend you some comfier clothes and I'll show you how to stand and some tricks, make sure next time I'm being too much of a prick you can shut me up nicely. Maybe you'll even break my nose."

Regulus bites his lower lip, refusing to allow the corners of his mouth to curl upwards. "That does sound good."

James chuckles, and Regulus doesn't acknowledge the way that sounds fills his chest with warmth.

"So? Okay?" James wonders.

Regulus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hopes he won't come to regret this, and sends a silent apology to his brother.

He opens his eyes.

"Okay."

[aimbutmiss]

"Finally, we have some alone time." Shanks sighed as he settled into the comfort of the expensive armchair, away from the intimidating presence of Crocodile and the judgemental eyes of Hawk Eye. It was a random decision, dropping by Cross Guild's headquarters. Of course he knew that two emperors meeting would draw the government's attention, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the spontaneous act as he stared at the lovely clown in front of him.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

"Huh?"

Buggy rolled his eyes at the red head's easily swayed attention. "I wouldn't be so sure that we are alone."

"... You think they're listening?" Shanks turned to the closed tent door in worry.

"No, I made them promise not to and they wouldn't break my trust like that. However... Croccy's really good at finding loopholes. I'm certain Daz is listening to us as we speak." He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Daz? If you're there can you please knock twice on the door?"

Silence.

"Ugh, come on. If your boss can use loopholes so can I. Did he specifically say you had to be discreet?"

After a short moment, two small knocks were heard.

"Thank you!" Buggy turned back to Shanks, lowering his voice to fit the casual conversation they were having. "See?"

Shanks scoffed in disdain. "I can't believe he trusts you so little."

"He trusts me just fine. It's you he doesn't trust. Rightfully so, may I add."

Shanks' shoulders sagged at the formal speech. It's like there was a thick, invisible wall between them, and it hurt too much to bear.

"Buggy... Come to the Red Force with me. We can at least have some privacy there."

Buggy shook his head. "Absolutely not. As much as I would love to see Benn and Lucky Roux, it's not worth it."

Shanks could have made a joke about him not including Yasopp but he was too confused by the rest of the statement to do so. "What do you mean it's 'not worth it'? Too lazy to walk to the shore now?" He asked jokingly but the worry was evident in his voice nonetheless.

"Of course it's not that, idiot. I just don't want to be alone with you in your own turf."

The room was dead silent but Shanks could swear he could hear his heart shattering. "You trust me that little?"

The clown sighed, already tired from where the conversation was heading. "Shanks, this isn't about trust. It's about letting go of the past."

"So you do not miss me?"

Buggy lips tightened to a thin line.

"Because I miss you."

"Wrong thing to say with someone listening in..." Buggy mumbled under his breath. "Croccy will throw you off the island at this rate and even Mihawk won't be able to stop him."

Shanks' brow twitched at hearing the stupid nickname again, dropping from the bluette's lips so casually. "He respects you two that little?"

"No, he respects us that much. He cares, in his own, weird way. He's a good man."

Shanks smirked at the ridiculous answer. "A good man? You truly believe that? I can see your lips curling you know."

Buggy rolled his eyes. "He's a good man to the people that matter. He's good to me, Shanks. And neither of us are saints you know."

"Even so-"

"I have fame, money and power... But more importantly I have people who care about me to share it with." Buggy cut him off before he could get another word in. "People who protect me and help me when I need it but never push me. People who treat me like their equals. And for once in my life, I'm truly happy. And you're upset that you're not a part of that happiness. To that I say; move on, Shanks. I have, so should you."

"..."

"It's better for the both of us really."

Shanks bounced his leg up and down restlessly as his thoughts became cloudy. If anyone would have told him 25 years ago that him and Buggy would be where they are, so close yet so far from each other, Shanks would have never believed them.

He thought of a million things to say, questions to ask, to beg, but he could only bring himself to say one thing. "If that's your wish."

Shanks got up and turned around to leave, but Buggy spoke up last minute. "I do care for you, you know. I always have."

It wasn't a love confession, not really, but it was the closest thing to it that Shanks would ever get. "I know."

He didn't quite care how rude or embarrassing it was to avoid Mihawk's eyes as he boarded the Red Force to leave Karai Bari, he just did it because he knew the man would instantly know from one look what had just transpired between him and Buggy. And he didn't want to give him and Crocodile the privilege of knowing they won. They would still know, of course, but at least Shanks kept his pride (in his heart, at least).