#i need to remember my drabble tag for later but FOR NOW this is done!

[1864reruns]

ㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ ace & dog privileges

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤportgas d. ace

tag(s)&warning(s). drabble, fem/afab! reader, established relationship, creep, reader has BOOBS, i'm sorry flat chesters, this ain't for you, crack treated so seriously, this is not nearly as poetic as my other drabbles sorry, pervert! ace

from vyon. nasty dog but he's tamed so it's okay! 🎀 THIS IS SO STUPID I'M SORRY LMFAO

he's so focused on you that it takes him a second— his attention never divided when you're in front of him, or, well divided onto other things. ace was doing his best, listening to you and staring at your chest equally; you know that he's looking, you don't mind really. you think you'd be a little suspicious actually if ace's eyes weren't systematically rising up to look at your eyes and then moving down to linger at the curve of your chest through your tank top.

his eyes move up again after he gets his fix, stupid smile on his face, as you continue on with your story. your eyes moved over to the side, peeking over his shoulder but he doesn't make much of it when your eyes moved back to him. then, for listening to you and being such a good boyfriend, he treats himself to looking back down to stare at your chest.

his face falls when he sees that you've closed your jacket around your torso, his jaw slack open and eyes widened in horror. "babe..." he called out, a small whisper as he reached out over the table like you two were mourning over a friend's death or like you'd just told him you've done something horrible and he needed to show you support.

"what?" your eyebrows furrowed together, a hand moving towards his open palms on the table. your other arm is still pulling your jacket together.

you follow his gaze back down to your chest before the realisation hits you— the idiot was whimpering because he couldn’t get a good look at your boobs of all things. you kick him under the table, aggrieved. "there's some guy behind you that i think has been having a staring contest with my tits."

"who the hell—?" ace's eyebrows creaks, his smile twitching as his hands turned down on the table; he straightened up, slowly turning himself around. he has half the mind not to go over there and fuck up this random guy for commiting two grevious crimes against him. count one, staring at tits that should be for his eyes only; count two, forcing you to hide said beautiful chest from his view?

actually. "i'm going over there."

"ace—"

"i'm not living in a world where you have to cover up your beautiful rack 'cause of some fucking creep." he straightens up, you pull on his arm; ace looked down at you, annoyed, and then he turned to look at the guy who'd taken to looking at ace now because of his movement. "fuck you think you lookin' at? get your own fuckin' girl."

"dressed like that, she's our girl."

you let go of ace's arm, raising your hands in surrender. "have fun."

ace grinned, stepping out over the bench. "knew you'd come 'round." he leaned down to press a kiss against your cheek and his hand sneaks a squeeze of your boob, "for good luck." he claimed— then he's running off to 'protect your honor' or maybe stake his claim on your boobs.

"wear whatever you want, babe." ace tells you sometime later, after you both make a quick exit from the scene of the crime. his arm slung over your shoulder, obviously taking advantage of his height to get a bird's eye view of your 'beautiful rack', "ohhhh, that mesh lace shirt that you wear over nothing but your bra is fuckin' gorgeous." he remembered.

he rambles on and on, somehow planning outfits for you in the distant future— all of them are planned around tops that promise a view of your tits but you don't really mind. ace'll be there anyways to protect your honor.

[demonicdiligence]

Evil Eyes on You

Annie had found herself wanting to unwind. The half-demon’s fridge was empty of beer, and so she wandered into the nearby town to grab a few drinks before asking her Demonic beau for a lift back home.

Aamon was quite an excellent chauffer. Portals to and from anywhere beat the shit out of driving - or god forbid walking!

But after just two beers, her phone was already out as she shot him a text.

[ This place is a drag. Pick me up before I end up killing this fuckin’ man. ]

Aamon’s response was immediate:

[ That bad, huh? I’ll be there in a sec, just need to get dressed. ]

Annie barely got time to look at his text back before the man sitting next to her spoke up... again.

“No, seriously sweet-heart! Where ya from? I coulda sworn I would remember seeing a pretty little thing like you around before.”

The man was as ‘traditional’ as the bar he occupied. Jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt all wrapped around a greasy exterior and a scruffy, unkempt beard. He looked like he lived in this biker bar.

Her response was brief and curt.

“None of your business.”

“Playing hard to get, I see!”

‘Jesus Christ,’ Annie thought. ‘Motherfucker just can’t take a hint.’

“My ride’s here.”

Her clawed hands produced a mismatched collection of bills, enough to cover her tab and the tip, and slammed them down on the table. A hollow thud betrayed just how flimsy the bar itself was. One last sip of beer, and she stood from her raggedy barstool and turned towards the door. The man stood in opposition.

“I may as well escort ya outside, then.”

“No,” she said. “You won’t.”

His arm hooked around her own. Annie’s eyes narrowed, like a cat focusing in on its prey. She wanted to bite his damn head off, but she knew that Aamon would be here shortly and he probably didn’t want to be involved in a murder. So she went for the next best thing - elbowing the man’s gut and pushing him away.

“Hands off, asshole!”

He stumbles a few steps back as the bar goes silent. Then grips his side and performatively whinges.

“Gah... bitch broke my rib...! You’re gonna have to pay for that...!”

He took a step forward, reaching a hand out for her again - only to find himself stopped dead in his tracks. Aamon had taken hold of his popped collar and drug him back, his legs kicking for purchase as Aamon slid him several feet in the blink of an eye. Who knows how long he’d been watching...

“Ohhh, insurance fraud scam?” Aamon almost coos, eyes full of a fury Annie had never seen. “Let me help.”

Aamon’s leg shot faster than the eye could see, a stomp aimed at the back of the man’s leg bringing him to a knee in an instant. Annie’s aggressor was off balance. One of Aamon’s claws dug into the back of his shirt to lift him, while the other held onto the back of his skill. With a great heave, Aamon lifted the man off the ground, and then slammed him - face first - into the wooden bar.

Boards cracked in twain. Splinters pockmarked the man’s face, and as the force carried through the bar itself, he hit the floor hard enough to indent the floor. Out like a light in a second flat.

But that wasn’t all. The sharp CRUNCH of Aamon breaking the bar in half with a man’s skull was the starting bell. A voice cried out from the back of the bar - “They got Dave, get ‘em!” and Annie lets out a groan, intermixed with disbelieving laughter.

“People actually like this asshole?”

She said. Aamon had stepped over to her in an instant, beginning to open a portal before Annie took his hand and smirked up at him.

“Good thinkin’ babe, but... none of these guys would let me finish my beer in peace. Besides, they were gonna try to pull some sorta scam on me.”

Aamon paused, the portal undone.

“Teach ‘em a lesson?” He asked.

A predatory grin, showing off her massive, monstrous teeth.

“You fuckin’ know it.”

...

Outside of the bar, a young couple approached, unaware of the situation inside. They innocuously checked their phones, trying to see how the reviews were for this tawdry little bar they approached, before a loud CRACK from within caught their attention. Their gazes both shot up, before a rotund biker sailed straight through a closed window - hitting the ground outside with a solid splat before he struggled to his feet.

Only for Annie to lean out the now broken window and pitch a craft beer bottle at his forehead like a MLB pro. The bottle made direct impact with his cheek, and the sheer force caused the biker to spin like a ballerina before collapsing - unconscious. The couple let a shocked ‘Oh fuck!’ escape before running in the opposite direction.

“We’re gonna have cops in a few!”

Annie shouted back at Aamon over the din of the bar-brawl he’d caused. The Stygian’s gaze was focused on the man in front of him, who was throwing a series of fast - but sloppy - punches his way. Aamon dropped into a boxing stance, dancing around each untrained punch with practiced ease. His opponent swung wide and Aamon deflected the blow at the wrist, opening the man up.

One side punch hurled straight into his gut. Spittle left his lips as Aamon’s blow landed true and deep - the demon could swear he felt something break. He dashed in while the biker was concussed and followed up with a flurry of punches.

Body blow to the stomach. A second body blow, to the kidney. A third body blow, he was unsteady now. Aamon focused on his footwork, keeping himself planted to the ground as his body twisted along with his final punch. With perfect form, an uppercut collided with the man’s chin just as he was beginning to double over. Unconscious before he hit the ground, he falls backwards like a rag-doll and lands limply on his back.

“What did you say, hun?”

Aamon’s victory is short-lived as another brawler sneaks in behind him and breaks a pool stick over the Demon’s spine. His tail goes straight up, hairs standing on end as the pain overwhelms his senses for a few brief moments. The man moves in to follow up with a kick to the groin, only for Annie to descend upon him like a wild animal.

“Piece a’ shit!”

She shoulder-checks him, sending him straight to the ground. His leg twisted at an awkward angle, she has no trouble straddling his chest, knees pinning him by the elbows, as her clawed digits curl into tight balls - steel-tipped fists ...

And begin to absolutely wail on the man who dared to sneak attack her boyfriend.

Some people might yell. Scream. Insult. Annie's visage was the personification of anger, and her eyes were focused on the bastard in front of him. She didn't have time to open her mouth when her sole mission was inflicting pain. Punch after punch landed, twisting his head left and right every time she lands a solid hook across his cheek.

Five, six, seven punches... she almost begins to lose count before she hears floorboards creaking behind her. Her head pivots just in time to spot someone raising a chair over their head, about to bring it down on her like a wrecking ball! Her tail swings wide, catching his ankles and causing him to topple to the ground.

Annie stands, looking frantically around for Aamon. Consuming by anger and bloodlust, she'd forgotten what she was doing. Once her eyes are on him, her focus returns, and she yells once more.

“I said, there are gonna be cops soon!”

The biker she’d just tripped up began to stand, on his hands and knees. As soon as he did - Annie took hold of his head with both of her clawed hands, holding his skull steady before planting her knee directly into his face.

“Agggh, damnit--“ She groaned. “Blood on my pants...!”

Aamon had taken a deer head - mounted to the wall - and had just finished beating a biker to a pulp with it. His eyes focused in on Annie as she said they’d have legal trouble inbound.

“Gotcha, let’s split!”

He yelled over to her before he spun once, twice, and then, using the momentum of his spin - chucked the deer's head at a biker who’d just broken a bottle on the other side of the bar.

By this point, the majority of the bar patrons had either fled, or were in a crumpled mess on the ground. Only one man was left standing - a beastly creature with a beard larger than his head, spiked shoulder pads, and a ‘1%’ patch on his jacket.

Annie and Aamon both look at the unit of a man, and then at each other, before she jokes--

“One last one for the road?”

“...I started it. I don’t get to complain.” Aamon answers.

...

...

A few hours later, most of the bar patrons were still telling their stories to the cops. About how a demon had popped in out of nowhere and beat everyone in the bar into a mewling pulp - with the help of his girlfriend - before disappearing through a portal.

Some of the bikers realized what a stupid story it was, even if it was true, and didn’t bother to tell it. Some simply didn’t speak to the cops on principle. And those scant few who did tell the truth had the story brushed off - either due to head trauma, too much drinking, or a combination thereof.

Aamon and Annie, meanwhile, were seated on the couch in his flat, nursing what little wounds they had. Aamon was lying on his stomach, head in Annie’s lap, while she idly pet his hair.

“My fucking tail...”

The Incubus groans, before Annie responds with a laugh.

“That’s what you’re so worked up about?”

“It hurts like a bitch.” Aamon replied.

“Maybe...” Annie starts. “...you pulled a muscle when you threw that seven-foot-tall man?”

Aamon pointed to himself with a clawed thumb, smirking.

“I’m the bearer of the Evil Eye, I can handle throwing some big guys...!”

“You...!” Annie trails off, poking his nose as she speaks. “...sound like such a goof when you say that.”

“What? I am!”

Annie can only giggle before she responds.

“I know, I know. But you’re such a book nerd that it just doesn’t sound right coming out of you!” She chortles softly before her laughter dies down. A few seconds of silence fills the room. “Thank you, by the way. For coming to get me.”

“Not a problem. I’ll always have your back, babe.”

“I know,” Annie says. A heavy exhale leaves her, every ounce of stress leaving her body. “But, still, thank you. I could’ve handled it myself, but... it was a lot cooler with you. More fun.”

“Are you saying you forgive me for starting an unnecessary bar fight?”

“What? No. No, no, no, it was completely necessary. I kinda wanna watch you beat the shit out of people more often...! You should just go feral more often.”

Aamon groaned. Right. He was supposedly against violence. The two would settle down, merely enjoying their company before, after several minutes of silence - Annie would break it.

“How many guys did you get? I got four.”

“I...” Aamon stops, perplexed. “...you were keeping count?”

Annie’s lips curl up into a toothy grin. “Suuuuuure sounds like you got less than four~ Sounds like I’m even stronger than the ‘bearer of the Evil Eye.’ Give me your Evil Eye now, it’s mine.”

“That is not how any of this works!”

“I’m pretty sure it is--“

And so the pair’s night would end with a playful argument, a few more beers drank in safety, and a reminder that they always - always had each other’s backs.

Whether it was in the depths of Hell, or in a seedy bar brawl, Aamon and Annie were as inseparable as could be.

@lasraichean

[weirdsht]

HAHAHAHA imagine Cale with someone weaker than him + a troublemaker and oftentimes think crazier than him, but they're useful so that's what tied them together with the gang💀 bro might feel the stress his hyungs felt whenever he throws himself into danger lol and would start reflecting. Have u done this b4? :D

Is This My Karma? - Cale/Reader

notes: anon... did you take a look inside my mind? or maybe my docs? because the series i'm going to publish later has a similar prompt. i was gonna make it a surprise but since the cat is out of the bag imma announce it here lol. i'll be making a cale/reader slowburn series or at least try but while waiting for that you guys enjoy this small drabble from anon's ask first

tags: fluff, sickfic, reader is an idiot, cale is also an idiot, idiots in love basically, choi han is in charge of their single braincell, established relationship

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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“For the last time, you will not pass your cold to the White Star. How are you even going to achieve that? Also what merit would it bring if that punk catches your sickness?”

Cale glanced over at the sick person in his bed speaking nonsense. Well, it’s not completely nonsense as it was possible.

…If that said person wasn’t on the verge of dying because of a fever.

“We both cough know it’s cough possible. Plus you’re not looking at the bigger picture of cough White Star getting a fever.”

“No you’re just thinking irrationally-”

“Ah ah, I’m still cough speaking. Let the cough sick cough speak.”

“...I think the sick should shut the hell up and sleep.”

The person who is Cale’s significant other only glared at the commander before drinking the water Choi Han handed to them. When arguments like this first happened the swordmaster would interject to create peace.

But that was before he learned just how unhinge this person was.

_____, Cale’s headache and significant other, was a naturally weak person. Even weaker than Cale without ancient powers. However, despite their physical prowess being on the weaker side they have a very useful ancient power.

They have a wood attribute power that can conjure flowers, grass, and trees with either poison or healing powers. Its downside is that the abilities do not work on _____. However, they can make flowers that can spread whatever sickness they have at the moment.

“We all know you just need to fling me at cough a good distance near Mr. Steal-My-Cale’s-Looks and I can pass him my cold with the flowers. Easy peasy Ron’s lemon squeezy.”

Cale remembers _____’s explanation being that the flowers' pollen would contain the same bacteria and virus as their body. Or something along those lines.

“...”

“Hear me cough out, okay? Imagine this, White Star with his plate on the verge of breaking, coughing out so much blood, armless in every sense of the cough as well. Imagine a cough nasty fever and cough combo on top of that.”

“...”

_____ looked at the silent Cale expectantly.

“Sometimes I really wonder why I got together with a punk like you”

“But you love me!”

Sigh

Cale couldn’t refute so he just sighed.

At first, he let _____ join their group because they were useful. Not only is their ability useful but they are also intelligent. They have the see the faults in Cale’s plan and think of a counter-measure. They can also conjure up great plans.

Well, most of the time at least.

Other times look like this…

“No, we are not doing your absurd plan. Just go to sleep and get better, I’ll take care of things.”

Cale kissed the top of _____’s head.

“And don’t even try to think of sneaking out like you did last time. Alberu and Tasha almost had a heart attack.”

The previously smiling _____ because of Cale’s kiss was now pouting because of the reminder. 

Meanwhile, Cale let them be as he went out of their bedroom.

He let out another sigh as he did. Behind him was Choi Han struggling to suppress a smile, wait no a laugh.

“What’s up with you?”

“No, it’s just that Cale-nim you and _____-nim are really similar.”

Choi Han added after seeing Cale glare at him.

“Sometimes that’s how your plans look to us.”

“Haaa”

Cale couldn’t help but notice how his acting like his sworn brother right now.

‘Is this how the crown prince feels about me?’

Not just the crown prince but everyone else as well.

‘Was this why team leader-nim and Choi Jung Soo insisted that I should farm with them even after retirement?’

There was no way, right?

‘There’s no way me and _____ are similar. I’m not self-sacrificial like that. I always make sure that I will live.’

Right?

Looks like he finally got all my warnings.

Cale ignored Super Rock’s voice.

But still, he can’t deny that he caused his group some headaches.

“...I will reflect on myself.”

Choi Han only nodded and smiled at the dazed young master.

Meanwhile, Cale’s mind is a bit chaotic right now.

‘Did my karma come in the form of my significant other?’

There’s no way that’s the case… right?

Right???

[spiderlandry]

wind — lo'ak sully

Description: You make a matching ionar (rider’s mask) for Lo’ak after he fails the first time trying to tame an ikran. you give it to him after his (successful) second try, but what does it mean?

Pairing: Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x GN!Reader (Na’vi)

Warnings/Tags: mentions of mating/finding a mate(?), use of y/n, actually requited love, reader is a softie, proofread once and barely edited, events probably not canonically correct because i’ve never read the comics

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: if anyone has any avatar thoughts or hc/drabble requests feel free to send them in my inbox !! i’m honestly willing to write for most of the characters, so just ask 😇 (any human!jake thoughts are especially welcome)

Everything has fallen away and nothing else matters when Lo’ak is in the Tsahìk’s healing hut, being bandaged by his grandmother after falling off a cliff on his first try taming an ikran.

The disappointment from his father rolls off in waves, and in turn, the shame of it suffocating.

Mo’at interrupts his train of thinking.

“Mawey,” She says in a gentle voice, but its read as a warning nonetheless. “I can feel you burning a hole into the ground.”

“Sorry.”

The curt response is not lost on her, but she doesn’t mention it.

Enter Kiri, the third person who has come to see him since the incident. Her face is etched with worry, eyebrows scrunched but it seems like she’s trying to hide it. She sits cross-legged across from her brother.

“Father was just worried about you.”

That gets a dry laugh out of him, wincing when the exertion stings.

“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” He replies.

Never-mind that. The moment he hit the ground, he knew he would be the other end of their father’s worry. That’s not what he hates. It’s that he feels the disappointment.

But it’s as if Kiri reads his mind.

“He’s not disappointed, either. He doesn’t hold it against you.”

At his quiet, Kiri leans against the wall, keeping him company while their grandmother rubs paste on his shoulder.

-

It is his third say of ordered rest that he finally notices your absence. Amidst of the chaos and his family practically doting on him with worry, he realizes the empty hole in his heart is in the shape of you.

You, who was there to see him fall. You, who was one of the best hunters in the clan and a great flyer. And you, who he has been in love with since he could remember.

Another wave of shame and embarrassment hits him. It lingers.

If you’d seen his failure, surely that destroyed all his chances with you. Hell, he barely had any after you’d called him ‘a great friend,’ a few weeks ago. But it’s different now: you have witnessed his worst moment, and would deem him unfit to be a mate.

His moping is apparently so noticeable that his own father has to talk to him. It happens before the hunting party leaves.

“Look,” His father—the Olo’eyktan for Eywa’s sake—makes the party wait. “I’m sorry about yelling at you.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re good.” Lo’ak’s lungs are burning. He needs to get away from this conversation, otherwise it will lead to Jake finding out about his affections for you.

“Hey,” His father taps his shoulder, and Lo’ak has to meet his eye. “What’s going on?”

Lo’ak knows that Jake is often misjudged as a father. He hears his friends talk about how being an Olo’eyktan makes him too busy to properly care for his kids. But what they don’t know is that every duty his father fulfills is done with his children in mind. Not too many people give him enough credit, not even Lo’ak.

He pays attention.

“Can we…not talk about this?” Lo’ak nods to the hunting party waiting for their leader. “We can talk about it when you get back.”

Jake gives in, but not without promise. “Later.”

They never end up talking about it, much to Jake’s dismay. Lo’ak avoids him too much. He prays to Eywa hoping his son will solve it soon.

-

When he sees you again, it had been about two weeks since the incident. He knows you’re close with Kiri, and every time his sister sneaks away he knows she’s with you, but he decided that if you didn’t want to be near him, then so be it. He didn’t anticipate the pain that came with that. The burning in his chest, something his father taught him about heartburn—yeah, that. Probably.

There’s a lot of people in the clan, which is why it surprises him to see you spending time with Ralu of all people.

You’re both far away, but he sees you flash a smile at the man and he begins to see red.

Ralu isn’t a bad person by any means. But he’s arrogant. And you told Lo’ak once that you hated arrogant people. Ralu was named after his great grandfather, one of the most notorious warriors among the people. Lo’ak figures that’s why the guy carries himself with an air of importance.

So when you laugh at his joke, Lo’ak starts to think that maybe you changed.

When did you change?

The burning is quelled for a moment, quickly replaced with an even worse emotion: a soul-crushing, haunting feeling called guilt.

Lo’ak is guilty of many things. He disobeys direct orders, he has the tendency to slip out of important celebrations, he can disappear for days when he needs time to think.

But he has never once felt guilty of loving you.

Until now.

It is not truly just guilt out of loving you, rather, it’s a product of his own cowardice and inability to even strike a conversation with the slightest hint of interest in becoming yours officially.

You don’t know that he is already yours—that you hold his heart in your delicate hands—maybe that is where he went wrong. Was it fair for him to have assumed you knew that? No, not really. But what could he do?

He stalks away, the sight of you and Ralu summoning bile in Lo’ak’s throat. He wants to feel the wind one only gets while flying and let the sting of the air wash his mind of the image.

He decides to take training more seriously this time around. Maybe he’s not too late.

He hopes he’s not too late.

-

Lo’ak loses himself in the fight. He lets his body carry him on hunts, he climbs the trees with calloused hands, he visits the mountains to study the patterns of the ikran coming and going.

He’s so determined to prove himself to you that he doesn’t pay mind to how you come and go through the home of the clan’s most talented craftsman.

Doesn’t notice when your eyes gravitate toward him as you come back from doing your tasks—he is too honed in on sharpening his blades and fixing his arrows.

You and Lo’ak hadn’t spoken in weeks.

But he wanted to make it worth it for when he finally invites you to watch him try and tame an ikran for the second time alongside his family.

It’s not long until Lo’ak finally approaches you with the proposition.

You receive the invitation with a gentle smile. He’s glad that Ralu is nowhere to be seen. (Bastard.)

-

It’s early morning, and you have not shown up. The thought of you not being here makes his stomach churn, not only out of shame but also regret. Maybe he really had lost you, but that is going off the assumption that he ever had you in the first place.

Most of his family stands behind him in support as he goes over the plan in his head, watching the ikran screech amongst themselves. Although, Tuk and Kiri are with grandmother—so it is just Neytiri, Jake, and Neteyam. He was so confident your name would be a part of that list.

He shakes off the thought, letting himself feel the vibrations. The rope in his hand burns from his tight grip. He launches himself into action, spotting the dark blue creature about to lunge at him. It’s beautiful. He hopes he doesn’t die.

The skin of the ikran brings him back to the feeling of falling, a flashback to the first time. As he wrangles it from the back, avoiding the claws reaching for him, he shakes his head roughly to rid himself of the image. The earth beneath him scratches at his leg when he falls off and tries to get back on, keeping its mouth tightly wrapped, bruises threatening to form on his hand.

Wind.

Edge. He is at the edge of the cliff.

The wind pushes against him, he pulls forward.

His vision is a tunnel, he grabs his kuru. He doesn’t see who arrives.

He successfully mounts the creature, making tsaheylu at the same time.

They both fall.

He hears the family erupt in cheers from afar when he saves himself from hitting ground, circling upward and letting out a loud cry. He does not hear your cheers amongst them, but it’s there regardless.

That is when he lands back on the cliff’s edge, meeting his parents’ proud smiles and Neteyam’s hard pat on the back.

You emerge from behind his family, and his jaw falls slack.

“Y/N,” He says, breathless. He resists the subconscious urge—the instinct—to run to you and wrap his arms around your figure, as he is reminded that the possibility of you and him have been null for a long time. “I thought you didn’t come.”

You two are inches from each other now.

“Are you kidding?” Your laugh melts him. “I just wanted to see if you’d fall off again.” The teasing isn’t something new, he knows you don’t mean it but even if you did, he couldn’t care less—every corner of his mind is now burned with the image of your smile.

He playfully shoves your shoulder, and you stop him from pulling away by holding his wrist.

You lower his arm. You bring an object out of the satchel you’ve been carrying around and places it on his outstretched hand.

It was an ionar. A rider’s mask.

And it looked familiar.

It is crafted beautifully and carefully—the light leather is cured perfectly, and in the middle, where it would rest on top of one’s nose-bridge, there’s a dark piece of river crystal sanded down to a point.

“I can’t take this,” He shakes his head. “This is yours.”

There’s something mischievous in your eyes, a glint he’d never seen. “Look closer.”

He grabs it and inspects, and his heart drops when he runs his finger over the piece, feeling the letters before seeing them. His name engraved into the side. Your mask had your name. This one has his.

“You…?” He meets your eyes, and you’re looking downward. In a surge of confidence, he puts a hand on your jaw to get you looking at him. “You made this for me?”

You nod. “It is a gift,” you respond. “I finished it this morning. I was not sure if it would be to your liking—”

“Don’t say that.” He cuts you off, and your eyes seem to be searching for something in his. He hopes to Eywa you find what it is you’re looking for. “This is perfect.”

You glance past him and he remembers that his family has been there the whole time. He turns and his eyes shoot daggers at his brother when he can see there must be something at the tip of Neteyam’s tongue. He knows that look, he’s about to get teased.

Luckily, before the brothers can exchange any words, you get Lo’ak’s attention again.

“Go fly with your family,” Your soft voice has him reeling. “I will meet you back home.”

-

He proudly dons the mask you’d given him, not taking it off when he starts looking for you after getting home. He wants—no, needs—everybody to know that he wears it like a badge of honor. He prays that people notice it matches your mask. In a way, it felt like you were staking claim on him.

Much to his chagrin, he sees you with him. Ralu. You’re nodding along to something he’s saying, and though it’s not a welcome sight, the adrenaline from flying fuels Lo’ak enough to walk over.

Your ears flick at the sound of nearby footsteps, and Lo’ak is relieved to see your smile grow wide when you catch a glimpse of him wearing the mask you made.

Lo’ak raises his brows at Ralu, and his stomach churns when Ralu does not respond to an obvious look of challenge.

You take notice of the fire in his eyes directed at your friend. In response, you place a hand on his forearm, and his gaze softens at you.

“Do you want to fly together?” You ask.

“Just us?”

“Yes,” you say it as though there is no other answer. “Who else?”

“It’s—” His eyes flit to Ralu, who seems to have stricken up a conversation with another clan member. Deciding it’s not worth mentioning, he replies, “Nevermind. Let’s go.”

-

“Where are you taking me?” He shouts over the wind, following you on his ikran while you fly fast ahead of him. The eclipse hides behind the floating mountains.

“Just wait and see!” You yell back, banking a hard left.

Landing on the cliff, you pet your banshee while Lo’ak’s lands on the ground with a hard thud. You laugh at him.

“I have to work on that,” He dismounts. “Where are we?” There is a wall of vines and moss standing tall behind you, and surface area of the soft grass is too little for both of your creatures to fit. They fly away, finding shelter on a nearby mountain.

“Follow me.” You feel the wall of vines, pushing it aside to make way into a dark passage.

The path is illuminated by bioluminescent flora growing through the cracks of the stone. He hears your footsteps behind him, and he soon runs into a wall, a small crevice with light shining through it, but too small for any Na’vi to fit.

You push past him and put your arms in the gap, putting the force of your body into getting it out of the way. He wants to help, but his eyes trace over your figure and he can only hope you don’t feel him checking you out without shame.

The gap is now wide enough to go through, so he follows you into it.

“Eywa,” He mutters under his breath as he takes in the scene. Though the cave should be dark, there is a clear pond that glows blue. There’s a tiny patch of grass surrounding it. It is not so extraordinary if one thinks about the rest of Pandora and its beauty, but the most remarkable thing is the quiet.

The wind is gone.

Your breaths are the only thing in his ears. You dip your legs in the water, splashing Lo’ak and taking him out of the trance.

“Hey!” He grins, doing the same to you.

There’s a pause while he tries to think of what to say. This place seems sacred, somehow. At least to you. You’re a great warrior—the best one he knows—yet he’s never seen such a content look on your face. It suits you.

“Why did you bring me here?”

You shrug, bashful. “This place is only accessible with an ikran. There is no other way to get up here.”

He stays silent, staring at you to go on. You avoid his gaze, opting to stare at the ripples you create in the water.

“I have been waiting to show you this place since I discovered it.”

“Have you…shown it to anybody else?”

There’s a longing in your eyes. “Neteyam.”

He is taken aback. Why would you take him here? He perks up, trying to look at your face. He sees the smirk.

“That’s not funny.”

You finally turn your head to him. “It is to me.”

“You’re messing with me, right? I just have to double-check.”

“I am,” You chuckle, lips settling into a thin line.

Another moment of silence.

“You will have to go through Uniltaron soon.”

He hums in agreement. He knows you had recently completed yours, he was there.

“After that, you will be free to choose a mate.”

A tiny flame of hope flickers in his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, I will be.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

He doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

Your shoulders drop ever so slightly, but with the quiet echo, he hears.

“I always had the feeling you were spoken for,” you whisper. “Will you tell me who?”

He contemplates on it. Telling you would be the biggest risk of his life. It would change the nature of your relationship forever.

Before he can say anything, though, the sound of a water droplet reaches his ears. His eyes snap to you, and you have taken off your rider’s mask to wipe at the tears on your eyeline.

He scoots closer, shoulders touching. “Hey,” he puts a hand on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what it feels like for someone to have your heart, don’t you?” You finally look at him again.

“I do.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Since when did someone have your heart?

He wants to know who it is. Who makes you feel the way he feels for you.

He answers with the truth, “It does.” He clears his throat, trying to think of more to say. “But it doesn’t have to.”

“How?” You’re hugging your middle. He can feel you closing in on yourself.

The simple answer is that being with you flips that pain onto its head and it disintegrates. The hurt is never there long as he’s with you. But how can he tell you that if your heart belongs to someone else?”

“What do I do, Lo’ak? Please.” You almost plead for his answer. Your tears have stopped, and you, again, are searching his eyes for something. He has never seen you this vulnerable before. He wants to be the only person to witness you like this.

“You tell them.”

When you don’t respond, he takes his own advice. He bares his heart out to you.

“You’ve always had mine.” He says it so quietly that he doesn’t think you process the words until about three agonizing seconds later.

Yet you don’t say anything.

I’ve made a mistake, he thinks.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong when you finally respond by laying a hand on his cheek.

“You have always had mine, too.”

-

Here is a reference picture for a rider’s mask !! Lo’ak’s would look different obv, the middle part would have a river crystal that’s actually taken from the river where Y/N realized they loved Lo’ak (my cuties.) The leather would be a bit lighter, and I also imagine some beads from Tuk woven into it on the sides (Tuk found out and insisted on helping. My sweet summer child)

(additional author’s note: i know they don’t technically get a visor until fully completing their rite of passage but let’s pretend that’s not true for the sake of the fic)

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #7 - kissing disease

kai parker x reader

summary: despite the deal he had made with her several weeks ago, kai needs his sister for her medical opinion, again.

tags: doctor / hospital, sickness, small mention of blood, caught / confession

word count: 1,023

a/n: here is a short lil drabble-ish piece i wrote as i'm trying to get back in the swing of things. i went to a tvd con, and then got a cold 😭 so i'm a little out of it. but, i did produce this, so here it is!

A series of knocks disturb the couple and their guest from their conversation. It’s bad enough to have one uninvited guest, and now there’s another at the door. Even worse, when Ric answers, it’s the person he and his girlfriend want to see least in the world. 

Kai Parker, visibly ill, is hunched over his entryway. One hand is gripping the doorframe, while the other is raised to knock again, but drops when Ric opens it. 

“Oh no-” the older man starts.

“Wait, wait, wait-”

Upon hearing the direct ‘no’ from Ric, Jo joins his side. At the sight of her twin brother, though, she’s immediately pissed. “No. We had a deal. I give you my magic and you never speak to me again.”

“I know-”

“So why the hell would you think it’s okay to come here?”

“I need your help.”

“You’re insane! If you think I’m going to help you, after all you’ve ever done to me, you’re insane.”

“I know, and I know we had a deal. But, look, I’m really sick, I don’t know why. It’s not a magical problem this time, because I’ve tried to heal it with magic and it’s not working. I don’t know if I did the right spell, or if there’s something blocking it, I don’t know. All I ask is that you just look. Just, try to see me as a patient, just for today. Please?”

“You will not manipulate me like that. I won’t let you.”

“I’m not trying to, I promise.”

By now, Damon’s joined the doorway. “Oh, it’s you,” he says bluntly. “Why are you here?”

“I’m sick. I came to see my sister because she’s a doctor, not because I wanted to hurt her. Please, Josette.”

The girl sighs. “Fine. But if you try anything, I will kill you.”

“Promise I won’t.”

Ten minutes later, she has Kai sitting on a patient bed in Whitmore hospital. The three had decided it would be easier to do there, so they made the quick drive over to the medical center. Luckily, it’s after busy hours, so they’re able to work without interruption. 

At first, Jo asks all the typical questions and runs all the standard tests. She rules out that it’s definitely not a magical issue, and that it seems to be a virus of some sort. She just can’t seem to narrow it down to which one, though. 

“It’s not strep; that test came up negative. Could you repeat your symptoms to me?”

Kai rolls his eyes, but answers, “throat has been sore for a couple days, my, like, lymph nodes are swollen, up here on my neck,” he points to the area, “I’m really tired, skin is kinda hot, and I’ve had a headache.”

“Right. So this is kind of a Hail Mary, but I’m gonna do it anyway. I need a sample of your blood. Just a finger-prick.” She holds out a little test, then a needle, and takes his hand. “Try not to flinch,” she says, before remembering to whom she’s talking. Jo then almost flinches herself when she realizes it’s her brother’s hand she’s grasping. 

Kai doesn’t budge when she pricks his finger. In fact, he just yawns, like he’s bored. It disturbs her. 

“Just give it a couple minutes.”

Jo leaves to find the other two while the test takes the time it needs. In a couple minutes, though, she returns, both men on her tail. She reads the test, then scoffs. 

“What is it?” Ric asks before anyone else can.

“It’s positive.”

“For what?”

“Mono.”

“What?!” The man asks a third time. 

“What’s that mean?” Damon questions, too.

“Mononucleosis. Epstein-Barr. Whatever you want to call it. The Kissing Disease.” She looks at Kai, who says nothing. “Spread through saliva. Either you got it from kissing someone, or sharing drinks, silverware, or something like that. So what’s it from?”

“No way,” Damon interrupts, “there’s no way someone was kissing him, that’s got to be a false positive.”

“It’s the only one of all my tests to come out positive.”

“Alright, fine,” Kai says, “of all the ways I expected to be caught, this was not one of them.”

The two men seem to get angry at this. At nearly the same time, they bark, “who was the poor girl?”

“Hey, she was a willing participant!”

“Who was it, Kai?”

“Really pretty. Sweet voice. Likes the bad boys, but she seems so innocent, you wouldn’t know unless she told you. Friend of yours, Damon. You had her babysit me one day, and then things just kind of… took off!”

“No.” Damon denies, not wanting it to be true. 

“Oh, yes.”

“She wouldn’t be caught with the likes of you. Y/N is too good for that.”

“Oh, but she wasn’t caught… until, well, she apparently gave me mono.”

“But that was months ago I had her watch you.”

“And it was months ago since we started hanging out. And then hanging turned to kissing, which I started, because she’s way too shy to give in the first time, but once she does, she’s just… crazyyyy cute about it. Always stealing kisses when I’m not expecting it. Guess it makes sense how this could’ve happened.”

“You’re lying. Y/N would never.” Ric agrees with his best friend. 

“I swear to you I am not.”

“I’ve got an easy way to figure this out. Hold on one second.” Damon puts a finger up while dialing a number on his phone. After a few rings, it picks up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, hi. What’s up?”

“Not much. Was just wondering if you’re up for a drink later, at the grill?”

“Mm, I’m not actually feeling too great today. Raincheck for another time?”

“Oh, really? That sucks.”

“Yeah, I think it’s just a typical common cold.” You clear your throat rather loudly. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no worries. Feel better okay?”

“I’ll try,” you chuckle, “see you later?”

“Let me know when you’re better. Bye.”

“Will do. Bye.”

Damon looks at Alaric, then Jo, and all three, horrified, stare down at Kai together.

The little troublemaker manages to smirk. “Still think I’m lying?” 

[whumpookies]

Hi there,

I am new to the community and your blog  is one of my favorites. I am planning on taking part in my first Whumptober. I am planning on mostly writing but maybe creating some gif sets too.. we'll see. I see you have participated in the past and was wondering if you had any tips because right now I am getting stressed about not getting everything made in time and my planning is an absolute messssss.

Thank you!

I hope your week is full of cookies and other sweet treats.

X

Aww Anookie

Welcome to our part of Whumpler, and well done to you for jumping into the madness that is @whumptober

Seriously, it’s like signing up for a marathon but forgetting how to run while holding a tray of eggs and fighting a Zombie on a Tuesday afternoon.

But hey, you’ve got this (mostly, I think).

First off, remember Whumptober is a challenge for you—not for the world, your followers, or your overachieving mutuals with their perfect mood boards (those mood boards would have taken three weeks and probably a mild dose of losing the will to live, yes even your mutuals get stressed).

So here are a few survival tips from someone who has somehow lived through it:

1. Combine Prompts Like a Pro: If you can blend two (or three... or ten) prompts into one creation, DO IT. This is a game of efficiency, not perfection.

2. Follow the Inspiration: If a prompt is calling your name, do it first. Don’t sit there stressing over a prompt that makes you go “mehhhhhh” when you’ve got a killer idea for one later down the line. Jump around the list, no one’s going to slap your wrist.

3. Perfection is Overrated: Your writing doesn’t have to be a 50k-word magnum opus. Honestly, one-shots, drabbles, or even a glorified paragraph will do. It’s the whump that counts, not the word count.

4. Gif Sets? Just Vibe: If you’re making gifs, go for something that grabs your attention. You don’t need 20 frames of perfection—sometimes one killer moment is enough (trust me @99point9percentwhump can contest this).

5. Don’t Burn Yourself Out: You’re allowed to take a day off. Drafts are your friend, schedule them to the day and pre-tag them; this is not the Whumptober Hunger Games, so pace yourself, hydrate, and binge-watch whump when you feel it getting to much.

Basically, Whumptober is chaos, but it’s the fun kind of chaos. So, stop stressing and just enjoy the ride. You’ve got this, and if you don’t, there’s always next year; participation is just as good as completion! 😉

May your whumperflies be everlasting, and your cookies forever comforting.

[slashingdisneypasta]

So I was thinking about OC x Canon stuff for a certain pervy character (I'm certain you know which one I'm talking about XD) while waking up this morning. And I got the idea of THIS excerpt for all the sex crazies, and I NEED to vent it out somehow. You can not escape. Resistance is futile >:)

Your lips found their way onto his own very easily. Just like all the times before. But this time was different, somehow. He could tell by the quick and shaky motions of your hands as you undid his shirt (or toga- for Hades). But he didn't waste time questioning it; all that mattered was you right now.

It wasn't until you pulled your lips away, just enough to breath, and you spoke with a tone that wasn't quite familiar with you, that he realized how much you needed him right now, "I don't care what you want to do to me. I don't care how long you take me. Just make me forget everything, tonight. Please."

You didn't want to think about anything today. You didn't want to remember that you needed to be at work tomorrow. You didn't want to be reminded of all your overwhelming thoughts today. You didn't even want to find out what time it was on the clock. All you wanted, all you needed right now, was him.

It feels so weird writing something that looks like it belongs in a romantic novel for the pervy villains, but this wouldn't leave my head XD did something happen to you that made you sad? Are you just in a ~state~? Are you and the pervy villain of your choice together together? Are you two just very close friends? You decide XD

Omgggggg, its amazing!! Reader astronomically horny XD (I mean, telling these men you don't care what they do to you?? Woo... ) I loved waking up to this, I really did. This is excellent!! XDD I had to add a little bit for each of them <3<3 Offender's is a little rushed but I hope you like these! XD

Baffled!Concerned!Pervy MultiVillains x Worn-Out!Reader || Excerpts / Drabbles

Plot: These are continuations of the above excerpt! So reader comes onto their pervy villain hard- but the question is, why??

Warnings: Sexual Themes and sexual references though no actual smut. Also reader is just very worn out after a long week. Freddy's is set in the Horror House, hence Tiffany's appearance XD (Bonus for you marinerainbow, since this was your idea XD)

Tagging: Will do Later

Beetlejuice:

You didn't want to think about anything today. You didn't want to remember that you needed to be at work tomorrow. You didn't want to be reminded of all your overwhelming thoughts today. You didn't even want to find out what time it was on the clock. All you wanted, all you needed right now, was him.

"Please, BJ, please. I- I just- I need-... " You just let out a deep, frustrated sigh; how do you explain what you need? You need to be filled, you need his tongue in your mouth, you need to think about something other then your life right now. Something that's overwhelming and feels good.

Instead of shoving his head between your thighs, which he has done before but not successfully like this time would be, BJ doesn't move at all; Watching you. "... you good there, sugar?"

You're completely surprised by the concerned tilt of his head, how he doesn't just jump you immediately like you thought. You were sure that he wouldn't ask any questions, that's partly why you came to him, so this makes you hesitate. Makes you still, as you stare up at him; Your fingers on the lapels of his jacket and lips parted.

Beetlejuice was always coming onto you. It sounds conceited, but he was! He does! Even when you were mad at him, or you didn't want to see him. It was honestly frustrated and borderline sexual harassment.

... no, actually, it was sexual harassment. Why you hadn't exorcized him, you don't know. Maybe, part of you,... likes him?

You didn't know, and you certainly didn't want to think about it right now. All you wanted to do was get filled and forget about everything- and you want Beetlejuice to be the man for the job, damnit! Where is this sudden concern for your wellbeing coming from?? Couldn't that wait until tomorrow?

With his grotty hands on your arms, BJ holds you still from jumping him, holding his head tilted to the side at you; Hair a crazy, knotted mess that you just wanna touch. The look on his dirty face, still-sneering but with soft eyes now makes your heart hurt and you take a deep breath; Fixing your grip on his lapels.

"I just... need to think about something else."

A dirty smirk slips across his face. "Like me, babydoll?"

You let out a shuddering breath, his voice and 'babydoll', creeping down your spine. "... Please... " Finally he pulls you close, your body pressed up against every inch of his as he catches your chin in between those fingers and guides you to look up at him. Theirs's a mischievous grin on his face, heat reappearing in his eyes once again, and yet he's showing impressive resolve as he talks to you lowly; His already-hard cock digging into you through his filthy pants.

"... okay here's the deal, doll." Attentive, you hold your chin up yourself, listening to him closely and watching his face carefully. You're a mess right now, made even worse by his sudden concern for you. You just want him to fuck you! Do anything to you; Tease you, pound you, use you- you know he's been waiting for a while, so where is the urgency?? "I'm gonna split you in two like you want," The words make your mouth fall open a sigh to slip out, shocking you and making his smirk get worse- nastier, sluttier, hornier. "cuz we both know I cant help myself what with you offerin yourself up to me like this~~... But after that, you're gonna tell ol BJ what's the matter, yeah? Cuz its pretty obvious, babe, you're strung out over somethin... I wanna be the one to know what."

"Wh- why??"

"Cuz you're my little breather, right? Right." He flashes a bright, mouldy grin, before reaching down and getting to work yanking his pants down. "Now bend your ass over the side of the couch- nope, don't take off your pants, I wanna do that~~"

Chucky Lee Ray:

You didn't want to think about anything today. You didn't want to remember that you needed to be at work tomorrow. You didn't want to be reminded of all your overwhelming thoughts today. You didn't even want to find out what time it was on the clock. All you wanted, all you needed right now, was him.

"Huh, sudden... " As Chucky takes a moment to 'consider your offer', being an asshole, you begin to untuck his shirt from his pants. "Hm, I don't know... heheheh... feel like you should really buy me dinner first~... Wouldn't wanna make feel cheap, would you?? Heheh."

"Chucky," You hiss, taking him by the coat and yanking him to focus on you. "This is a one-time-offer. Sex without strings. Fuck me, use me." Uh, "wh- what do you want?? Blow job? Doggy?" You're desperate. You'll let him have you anyway he likes. Please, just- fuck, you want to forget everything. You want your thoughts disturbed. Disturbed, crushed, vanished, forgotten. "Whatever you want, tell me- now, or I'm leaving and I'll get it from someone else. "

"... you know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were upset." At this, you give him a scowl, and he holds it with a frustrating smirk. It feels like he's staring right into your soul, with those intense blue eyes of his, and for a whole moment you really think he's going to reject you. Or worse, try to find out why you're acting this way all-of-a-sudden. Sure, you've fucked before but not like this, you've never been like this before, and you know that he knows it. You know that he knows something is wrong; He's smart like that. And usually, that's one of the things you like about him but damnit-... just for tonight, can he just be a horny asshole, with you? No digging, no poking, no figuring you out. "... but who am I to let an offer like that fly by, eh?~ "

... You suddenly feel a flood of affection for this man wash through you; He clearly knows something is terribly off with you, you're completely strung out, but for once he doesn't try to dig into you and make you feel worse. You're so thankful and relieved, that you almost completely forget what you wanted to do, just standing there with a ghost of a smile on your lips.

So he takes the reigns for you, dragging you in for a crushing kiss that reminds you, sets the events of the rest of the night in motion. A clipped whine slips out of you, because yes this is just what you wanted, and you grip onto him tight; Parting your lips for him and kissing him back.

Freddy Krueger:

You didn't want to think about anything today. You didn't want to remember that you needed to be at work tomorrow. You didn't want to be reminded of all your overwhelming thoughts today. You didn't even want to find out what time it was on the clock. All you wanted, all you needed right now, was him.

Of course, though- with Freddy it was never that easy. He never let it be that easy.

You knew that, you know him. And you were ready. As soon as that smirk slides across his face and his mouth opens to say something, you lean up and seal your lips with his; Successfully stopping it.

You just wanna make out with your perpetually horny, evil dilf friend- is that too much to ask for?? You have no energy for his manipulative shit, tonight. Nor his puns, nor his innuendos, nor his teasing. You just... want to feel good. Today- this week- the whole month past, has been exhausting. But as his slimy tongue begins to search in your mouth, you begin to feel it all inching away... pleased that your strategy worked, you melt into him; Your arms glide carefully over his shoulders and you tilt your head, only parting to breath every few moments.

As your heartbeat is beginning to feel slower, returning to a comfortably steady state with his tongue in your mouth, there's sudden footsteps to your right.

God- fucking- damnit. You knew you shouldn't have done this in the hallway.

"Well, well~~ Oh, what do we have, here??" Tiffany's voice rings out and your body goes stiff once again. Freddy releases your lips and you immediately press your face into his sweater- you don't want to see anybody, but him. Sorry, you do love Tiffany, but she doesn't exactly have what you need right now (The glass versions aren't quite the same).

"Isn't your boy toy lookin' for you??" You hear Freddy ask (As in hint, hint), your eyes falling shut.

"Mm, nope~"

"Aren't you lookin' for him??" Hint! Hint!

Tiffany giggles, a mischievous twang to the sound. "Nu uh~... "

Freddy growls, and you feel it more then you hear it; This sound a low rumble coming straight from his chest. You can just imagine the look on his face, a complete scowl and frustrated dark blue eyes. "Fine... " You know these next words are for you, as one hand and one glove come down on your waist and he squeezes; Making you sigh. "C'mon, princess, lets go to your room~~ There's a couple more things I wanna not say to you, anyway~"

Greasy Weasel:

You didn't want to think about anything today. You didn't want to remember that you needed to be at work tomorrow. You didn't want to be reminded of all your overwhelming thoughts today. You didn't even want to find out what time it was on the clock. All you wanted, all you needed right now, was him.

Your lips make a trail of kisses up Greasy's neck, but somehow his words come out cock-sure still, though you can feel his fingers gripping your waist tight- almost bruising you. Just how you want him. Just as needy as you are. "You are making some dangerous requests, mon amore~ " As Greasy thinks about your words earlier, your completely meant words, you lick slowly over the line of kisses you made- desperate to get him so worked up he just takes you. "... whatever I want... however long I want... weren't you warned??"

"That you're a depraved pervert with no game, and therefor, years worth of blue balls?" You ask, pulling back from him just far enough to catch his dark eyes, heavy with lust. With a shrug, your skin buzzing at being so close to him and having him look at you like THAT. "... I mean you'd think knowing you for all these months and kissing you a few times was warning enough. I mean, I think I felt your tongue in my esophagus. But- yeah." Impatient, you reach down and carefully start to undo his belt. "Wheezy warned me. He used those exact words, actually. Now- "

As you undo his belt buckle, he watches you in a calm manor, finally enjoying the sight you know he must have only pictured before... that is until you slip the belt free and he jumps- catching your wrists and looking wide-eyed as if he only just realised that you're really truly serious. Just!? "Y/N! Y/N, mi amore, wait-wait-wait. Wait." Raising a brow in confusion, you stop and tilt your head at him as he holds your arms in his hands- away from himself.

"... Do you not want?- "

"Oh no no no, I do. I- I want to do so so many delicious things to you, amore, I can show you the list, but- Just a moment." You tilt your head to the other side, confused and frustrated. Why the hold up?? You need to be filled!- "I just... I need to ask, are you... On any medications?? Right now?? You are acting manic- "

Whatever you thought he was going to say, it wasn't that. "What!? No!"

His eyes soften the slightest bit, all the bit that Greasy is capable of, and he rubs his thumb into the skin underneath your elbows. It makes you wanna keen, wanna feel his painfully hard cock throb against you, wanna sink down on hi- "... Then are you okay?"

... Oh shit. You feel like you wanna fuck him even more for that, but you really don't want to answer him. You don't want to think about why you're wanting him so bad, needing him. You don't want to think!- period.

Taking a deep breath, you look down at your feet. "Yes, I'm fi- well, no, but- I... I just... Grease, just... please... I cant, right now. I just... want you... "

After a moment, you look up with a pained expression (So tired, so worn out, so needing to just feel good).

The kiss you get slammed with starts with the tongue, then the lips follow and it makes you absolutely dissolve into him.

Hades:

You didn't want to think about anything today. You didn't want to remember that you needed to be at work tomorrow. You didn't want to be reminded of all your overwhelming thoughts today. You didn't even want to find out what time it was on the clock. All you wanted, all you needed right now, was him.

The moment that you sat down on his lap, that determined look in your eyes, Hades knew what you were going to try.

The naked need in your eyes and your kiss were explanation enough for him, apparently- after all, he was a busy man himself. Always stressed, always overworked, always frustrated and tired. And if you were offering a way to help with that~ Then he was more then happy to play along. Especially with you.

His smooth lips drew a hot line across your skin as he pressed firm kisses from your lips, to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your throat and down your neck. Your fingers dig into the fabric pf his toga that you hadn't managed to get off of him, the feeling he left in his wake enough to make you squeeze around nothing. Its not enough, you need him, you need-

"Hhh- Hades- "

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I got you. Just a sec." He pulls back and smirks at you, and you feel devastated by it. He's so handsome. He's so perfect. You're so glad, he is the way that he is. "Just let me enjoy this for a nanosecond, okay?... we both know I've been angling for this for a while... " Yes, since you met. It took him a while but he finally managed to get you dating him a couple of weeks ago... you haven't fucked, yet.

Sighing, you lean your body forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder. This isn't enough. You need his cock, you need him to pound you, you need him to make you cum and slowly, gently pull out... just to slam back in and again and fuck you rough into another squirting orgasm. You... need... him!!...

"Its been a tough week, huh doll?" Hades asks, above you, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, feeling you throb in his lap and loving it.

"... Yes... " You force out, feeling his hard cock just under you, right where you want him but yet so far... God its big, it'll stretch you so well...

"Gotta say- this is a pretty good way to release the tension babe. Maybe we can make this a bi-weekly thing? Or weekly? Every other day?- "

"Hades!" You cry, begging.

"Alright alright," He chuckles, and finally disappears his toga from his lap, allowing you to pull your own up over your thighs eagerly line yourself up with the monster. Just as you're about to finally finally sink down on it, Hades sticks a finger into the soft skin beneath your chin, and guides you up to connect his gaze with yours again. That smirk is still on his face, though its even darker now. "Let me take care of you, eh?"

Offenderman:

You didn't want to think about anything today. You didn't want to remember that you needed to be at work tomorrow. You didn't want to be reminded of all your overwhelming thoughts today. You didn't even want to find out what time it was on the clock. All you wanted, all you needed right now, was him.

"Fender, Fender please. I'm begging you."

As you work at his belt, fumbling with the buckle from your manic neediness, Offender watches; Letting you struggle and enjoying the sight. But also taking the opportunity to find out why you're working at his belt. "Honey, this isn't like you... what's up?"

"I just want you to fuck me, Fender, what do you mean- ah!" Either you're terrible at undoing belts or you're just that worn out and tired that you cant use your fine motor skills because the damn thing pricked you. Sucking on your pricked finger, for a moment, you pause. "... Can you do this? I'll do mine- "

"C'mon, babygirl. You do me a favour and I'll do you one. Tell me what's up,... " While you cross your arms and frown, not wanting to talk about it at all, Offender puts his hands on his belt and pulls the strap back. "And I'll do these."

Ughhhh... You want that, you want him to take off his pants for you... you need him to help you... but you do not want to talk about how bone tired, exhausted you are. "I... "

"C'mon."

"I'm just... tired... and... "

The buckle slips out of its hole and you sigh, tightening your arms against your chest. "What else, baby?"

"I'm just so tired. That's all." You blurt out, dropping your arms to your sides and sniffling. "And I just- I don't wanna think, I just wanna be full, and happy. Okay?? Can you please just- help me??"

Offender's mouth is spread in a grin, no teeth and no mischief; Just him smiling at you. But then a tentacle glides up your leg and dips into your own pants, and the grin widens into that smirk you're so familiar with. "... I think I can do that... "

[chirpbudgie]

introducing my stanley for rawts: gidget!!!!!!! his name was from his narrator so he decided to change it :-) like stanford, he loooooves learning but his narrator got after him for asking questions. for now i did some writing about him��…(kept falling asleep writing it, FINALLY FINISHED!!!!!!!!!) and later? who knows.!!! i have a ref almost done which i’ll probably post later under the rawts tag. as well as a bunch of other facts and like. half a drabble that i can talk abt. but i will prolly just make a separate post! ok i’m rambling hello to @queenburd and @charmemes

some inspiration drawn from Satisfied by Pansychic27213 on ao3 but when am i not inspired by that.

The Parable had been tense for some time now. Stanley wasn’t keeping track, but the narrator probably was. He was petty like that. But it’s not like he was allowed to have time to himself to cool off, because why would that be a good idea?

(The narrator didn’t do anything unless it was his idea.)

“Come on! You can do it, Stanley.” His tone was patronizing. Of course the son of a bitch would turn up his volume. It’s not like Stanley’s feelings mattered or anything. He never respected boundaries unless he was in a good mood.

Stanley reminded himself to unclench his jaw and it popped when he did. He stepped through the left door. Hopefully, if he stayed quiet and played peacemaker for a while the narrator would stop trying to get a rise out of him.

(No broom closet. Comfort is off limits right now so it isn’t taken away again.)

He pretended to be surprised in the meeting room. Stanley stifled a sigh in the bosses office while the monologue continued, but still acted thoughtful and put a random code in before the real one. Looked around a little, raised his eyebrows, furrowed them.

And he pretended to look surprised when the elevator opened. He did not need to pretend to be surprised when he caught movement in the corner of his vision and tripped on a wire. Obviously the narrator moved it, but a wave of fear washed over him when he thought about giving a response.

(Okay, so he wouldn’t give fake reactions. He was just trying to play along; usually it’s appreciated. Use your words, narrator—what are you, three?)

The narrator’s voice was still cranked up and echoed in the large chamber, bless his heart. Stanley gripped the hem of his shirt as he walked and his senses buzzed unpleasantly.

(He was not going to have a meltdown this soon after their fight. He wasn’t. Not a sensory one, anyway. He’d rather go down from his own choices.)

His fear had finally receded to anger again and the button panel was his victim. The narrator didn’t care how hard he punched it, since it was obviously made of something strong. (He’d love to determine what exactly, but he didn’t have a magnet. Wasn’t allowed one, after…)

(He couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to, anyway.)

With the telltale buzz of the monitor shutting down, Stanley could make out the narration again. He sighed with relief. Now that the volume was normal, he listened in (out of politeness, but still).

“Stanley reflected on how many puzzles still lay unsolved. Where had his co-workers gone? How had he been freed from the machines grasp? What other mysteries did this strange building hold?” The narrator’s voice was mocking when he asked the questions and it was grating like nails on a chalkboard. The voice he always used to mock Stanley. Anger bubbled up again. Maybe his co-workers had left because they couldn’t stand the sheer disrespect of this guy. They should’ve taken him with; subjecting him to this was a fate worse than death.

“But as sunlight streamed into the chamber, he realized none of this mattered to him. For it was not knowledge, or even power, he had been seeking, but happiness. Perhaps his goal had not been to understand, but to let go.”

Stay calm, Stanley. Deep breaths. Don’t let him get a reaction out of you.

“No longer would anyone tell him where to go, what to do, or how to feel. Whatever life he lives, it will be his. And that was all he needed to know. It was, perhaps, the only thing worth knowing. Stanley stepped-“

Stanley kicked the door as hard as he could before it disappeared beneath the floor and the echoing boom drowned out the voice. This motherfucker wanted to irritate him sooooo bad. Well, he did it. Happy?

{Boohoo}, Stanley emphasized his middle fingers in the sign. {Someone doesn’t want to address his plot-holes. I’ve been trying to be nice here, and here you go probably SPITTING all over yourself as you talk. Haven’t you ever heard, “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”}

The silence was deafening. He could practically see “the outside” change hues to an ugly yellow, warping and melting. He pushed back the fear that resurfaced and let the rage boil in him.

“Stanley. Stepped. Through. The. Door.” The narrator’s poorly concealed fury made his guts churn.

{Stop antagonizing me, I thought I was the protagonist. Isn’t that, like, one of the first rules of storytelling? You already have a conflict, you can’t make me another one out of nowhere.}

The reset felt more like a punch.

He was now in the Serious Room, which had long ago been revamped for solitary confinement. “TIMEOUT” was written in red blocky letters on one of the concrete walls, but it was the only feature remaining.

Fuck, he was in big trouble. He knows exactly what his punishment is going to be.

———

The Narrator relaxed as the restrictions of a human body melted away.

The last Parable had been rougher than he’d hoped. Just a little time to himself would be nice, or even some time with his Stanley. But he had a job to do and by god, he’ll do it.

This Stanley, he noted, did not seem to be… present. He stumbled through the halls—toward the freedom ending each time—with wide, glazed over eyes and the bucket clutched to his chest. This narrator did not seem particularly cruel, even encouraging him softly along the way. When he looked closely, this narrator’s presence was concentrated around Stanley like a blanket.

It was the fourth or fifth run that Stanley seemed to come back to himself. He didn’t stand up from his chair, disgust and guilt curling out from him in thick waves. The Narrator reeled a little, not expecting such strong emotions just from the surface. Stanley still held the bucket, apparently allowed to keep it between resets, but kept a poker face. The other narrator had receded some too, he noted.

“Are you feeling better, Stanley?” This narrator spoke. There was no softness like before, just down-to-business.

A burst of disgust billowed from Stanley again (strong enough to make The Narrator gag a little, despite his incorporeality). The office worker nodded weakly but didn’t lift his eyes from the ground.

“Good. Get on with it when you’re ready, I’ll wait out here. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Stanley shudders suddenly and The Narrator feels a hazy memory. “it’s my fault,” echoes in his mind, but it feels more like a reassurance than a fact.

This Stanley is too fragile right now, The Narrator realizes. It hurts to step back and deny the poor man a hug, but he very likely wouldn’t be able to handle it in this… brainwashed state.

He still looks dazed when he completes the freedom ending again, but seems more aware after another reset and hides in the broom closet.

So it’s a drop in the bucket (figuratively) to soundproof the small room. It’s wiser for The Narrator to stay hidden from the other until he knows the extent of his seemingly unpredictable behavior.

Stanley startles at the sound of shoes hitting the ground. He stares at the new man with his hands up, but can’t seem to form anything to say. He rocks a little from his position on the floor.

That’s alright, of course. The Narrator will give him all the time he needs.

{Who?} Stanley finally manages before frantically sitting on his hands.

“I’m The Narrator of a different Stanley,” he begins, speaking softly. It’s a little hard on his knees, but he sits down on the floor too. This Stanley feels like a scared, cornered animal. “I’m going to help you leave. Would you like some company in the meantime?”

Stanley squirms a little. He has so many questions that they’re practically forced into The Narrator’s head, but he only nods. His expression is conflicted.

“Let’s see…” Wow, that is a lot, he’ll go in order. “I’m not completely sure how I’m here either. I can exist outside of this body, but most Stanleys seem to prefer I use it when we first meet. No, I created it-“

{Are you reading my mind?!} Stanley signs frantically. His mouth has dropped wide open.

“You might as well be handing them to me on sticky-notes, dear boy,” he chuckles. “I’m only listening to the surface level.”

But Stanley shrinks back. {Sorry, I hope it’s not too many questions. My narrator doesn’t do that.} He wrings his hands together and looks everywhere else.

He’s panicking, The Narrator realizes. Stanley is fearful of asking. It makes him want to cry and hold this poor man until he’s never afraid again.

He pulls himself to sit next to the office worker and holds his hand. “I don’t mind—in fact, I enjoy it very much. Ask to your hearts content.”

This Stanley wears his heart on his sleeve, it seems, and the sudden emotions hit him like a brick. It’s almost overstimulating at first.

Stanley takes a deep breath, shaky. {Thank you,} he fumbles. He wants to say more, but he doesn’t want to unlink their hands. Touch-starvation is one hell of a drug and he thinks he’ll start crying if he lets go.

Even with the reassurance, an unspoken question rests on his fingers. He finally looks back at The Narrator, who has a welcoming smile on his face. “Of course, whatever you want.”

He shuffles closer gingerly, like if he moves too fast The Narrator might leave. The older man bridges the divide and Stanley is settled in his lap.

“I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable,” he hums and Stanley relaxes. He curls up, resting his head against The Narrator’s shoulder. A hand begins to rub his back and he takes a deep breath again, this time in relief.

His own narrator is a ticking time bomb—he’s had to learn to switch gears fast. And that probably sped up the process of him getting here, in such a vulnerable position, but he doesn’t mind all that much. In fact, this is the first time in a long time that he’s been able to remember what hope is truly like.

But the thoughts bleed out of him like sand through a sieve. He doesn’t fight it like he always does. He’s never been truly comforted like this, it’s so earnest—there’s no fear that his coping mechanism will be exploited. That he’ll be exploited for the story.

Stanley has plenty of questions, but he can ask them later. When he remembers them.

(The Narrator notes that Stanley’s contentment is an emotion that feels stale. Like a stuffed animal that’s been moved around, but hasn’t been played with in years; dust collecting deep and thick in the fur.)

[anerea-lantiria]

3 Things

@naryaflame thanks for tagging me and making me think of three things to share that I'm proud of from 2022...

... which I'm finding surprisingly difficult! I have no regrets, and there are things I'm happy about, yet nothing I'm consciously proud of.

Hmmm, let's see... *goes off and ponders; returns right before bedtime two days later* ...

One thing stands out, and it's a personal rather than fandom thing: learning to let seemingly hurtful or malicious things aimed at me by my mother — who is evidently sliding into dementia — slide themselves. Actually what I'm doing is reinterpreting them as things she's saying to make herself feel better, rather than as things intended to make me feel bad. She's used this for as long as I can remember, she's just far less subtle about it now. I'm not always successful, but when I am she becomes the kinder person she really is, and I think it's her (messed up but aren't we all) way of checking that she's still loved no matter what. (Of course it's a lot more complicated and nuanced than this, but this is just a brief tumblr post after all.)

Another two things that occur to me are connected: the is first allowing myself to let the artists of two of my three adopted Scribbles & Drabbles claims know, the day before reveals, that I was unable to submit their promised fics in time. I had been struggling with unidentified illness for months and was pretty much at the lowest point of my year then. I had allowed myself months to rest, believing I'd recover enough in time, but things worsened. I was going to push myself to force something out, but realised I was allowed to be affected by things affecting me, to be gentle on myself. Which is not an easy thing for me to do. (And for many people, I know! Even — and maybe especially — when we're the ones telling others to put their wellbeing first!)

The third thing is my brain promptly going "fuck that!" and writing ficlets for said adopted Scribbles & Drabbles artworks, with the words for one finally flowing till it was done at 3am, and then starting the other from 5am after a short sleep. (Who needs drugs when one's brain is over-efficient at producing cortisol and adrenalin, and shakes one awake saying "I have words!!! Grab your laptop!"?) Letting others down is anathema to me, and being told (or admitting) that I can't do something only acts as a motivator for me.

(I'm not sure whether the last two are things to be proud of, whether they actually cancel each other other out, or add up to something greater than the sum of their parts!?)

Anyway, that's about the most personal post you're likely to see from me on Tumblr!

I'm interested to know three things you're proud of from 2022 (if you'd like to share) @cuarthol, @melestasflight, @cycas, @polutrope, @lucifers-cuvette, @arizonapoppy, @elennalore, @starspray, @undercat-overdog, @unnamedelement, and anyone else who hasn't already been tagged and who would like to share.

[obeythedemons]

I posted 2,987 times in 2022

That's 2,534 more posts than 2021!

1,852 posts created (62%)

1,135 posts reblogged (38%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@obeythedemons

@eternallydaydreaming2015

@cypherleaf

@iwannawritelots

I tagged 1,941 of my posts in 2022

Only 35% of my posts had no tags

#barbatos - 661 posts

#obey me barbatos - 630 posts

#obey me - 620 posts

#obey me! - 554 posts

#mc!lance - 342 posts

#obeymebd - 333 posts

#happybirthdaybarbatos - 333 posts

#happy birthday barbatos! - 315 posts

#lance - 183 posts

#drabble - 153 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i was trying to figure out how to get a windwaker randomizer going but that looks like too much effort to get the iso off my gamecube disc

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

He Asks MC To Become Immortal [Obey Me! Headcanons]

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

“So…MC can be immortal?” Mammon asked as Solomon revealed the mistake he made.

“Yes, per our pact terms, I wanted Solomon to keep how he became immortal safe until I wished for him to reveal it,” Barbatos revealed. “I knew at one point, that we may all want to have MC become immortal.”

Solomon looked down at the journal detailing his immortality. It was worn, but still legible. “I considered what I did a mistake,” Solomon spoke quietly. “It’s difficult watching those you grew up with die. The ones that were children of your friends outage you. It’s difficult, I won’t lie. But MC has all of us, so if they decide to do this, it may be easier. However, it has to be MC’s decision.”

“Barbatos, have you manipulated the timeline back then so that they become immortal?” Lucifer questioned.

Barbatos shook his head. “I did not. I purposefully left it open so that this is purely MC’s choice. They can become immortal now, wait and become immortal later, or die at their natural time.”

“Well, what are we waitin’ for! Let’s go ask ‘em now,” Mammon stood up.

Lucifer grabbed his wrist. “No, it should just be one of us. We shouldn’t pressure MC into doing this. And no matter what, we all need to respect their decision.”

“Right, they could say no,” Mammon mumbled and clenched his hands into a tight fist. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

Lucifer

“Yes, let’s get this over with,” Lucifer spoke and pulled Mammon back to his chair. “I will go and speak with MC about the proposition. You all wait here. I will not have anyone interrupt my conversation with that.”

He quickly strode out of the room and marched to MC’s room. Taking a deep breath, he stared down at the door handle. He wondered how many more times he’d be able to go through their door to see them. How many more days, how many years he’d have with them. He knocked on the door and walked in.

“MC?” His crimson eyes moved to where they were lounging on their bed, browsing through their DDD.

“Are you done with your super-secret meeting with all the others?” MC asked with a light chuckle. They turn to their side and looked at him. “What’s up?” Lucifer moved and sat on the bed next to them. His hand ran through their hair. MC frowned. “Lucifer? What’s going on?”

“I’m just trying to remember everything about you,” he spoke quietly. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, you can say no and it will be fine.”

MC sat up. They grabbed his hand from their head and held onto it tightly. “Say no to what?”

Lucifer looked at them in the eyes. “I love you, MC. Your presence has changed all of us for the better. We want you to stay with us for as long as you’ll allow.” He paused. “Would you like to become immortal and stay with us…Stay with me forever?”

Mammon

“Imma go. I’m their first man, I should be the one to ask them,” Mammon spoke confidently. He almost expected the others to protest. There wasn’t a single one. He looked around in shock. “Are ya sure it should be me? I mean, I’m just some scum bag!”

“No, it should be you,” Lucifer encouraged him. “You were the one that’s always been there for them. Go.”

Mammon gulped and ran to MC’s room. At the door, he burst through the door and knelt over panting.

“Hey, Mammon,” MC hummed, not even bothered by his sudden intrusion.

Mammon looked at them in shock. “H-hey.” He quickly shuffled over to them and sat down. His heart hammered heavily in his chest as he tried to sort out his thoughts from the scrambled mess they were coming out in. His heart beat even faster when he felt MC lean into his shoulder.

“Are you okay, Mammon?” MC questioned. Their hands wrapped around his arm as they cuddled into it.

“Y-yeah,” Mammon sighed. “Look, MC. I’ve never been better whenever I’m around ya. I always wanna be with ya. Just the thought that we’re gonna be away from each other for more than an hour or two gets me upset.”

MC chuckled, remembering the times he’s thrown fits about it. “Yes, I know.”

“Which is why,” Mammon took a deep breath. Here went nothing. “I want ya to become immortal and be with me forever.”

Leviathan

See the full post

1,637 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

#4

He Sees MC In Wedding Wear [Obey Me! Headcanons]

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

Lucifer

He didn’t think he would be affected by this, he should have known better.

He feels his heart race at the sight of MC. He pictures them walking with him, arm in arm. Pictures them saying their vows and him saying his. He pictures them being married and it’s one of the happy images he’s ever imagined.

He’ll slowly walk up to MC and trace his fingers over the fabric, hoping that he’ll see them wear this again for him.

Mammon

He is going to die, he is going to die, he is going to die. His heart is racing and his face is burning. He doesn’t want to look away, but if he doesn’t look away, he will die.

He rubs that back of his neck as he begrudgingly admits that MC looks nice, not that he’s imagining them wearing this when they get married in the future. Not that they’re going to get married in the future. That’s exactly what he’s imagining.

He’ll try to hide MC from the others, he wants to be the only one that gets to see them like this. At least, not until they’re marrying him.

Leviathan

His face is bright red as he stares at them in awe, like his favorite idol is wearing a Ruri-chan cosplay. But this stare has more love.

Once he snaps out of his love drunk stupor, he covers his face with his hands and gives out a muffled scream.

He keeps thinking of all of the anime/video game themed weddings he could plan with MC. Or if they really want, they could go down the normie route. Whatever just to see them wearing this again for him. He’ll do anything…Except stop hiding behind his hands.

Satan

He was used to the passion that is rage, but when he looks at them, he feels a much more pleasant passion. Seeing them in the wedding wear only seems to intensify that passion.

He’ll approach them and spin them around so he can get a good look at them, a faint blush covers his cheeks.

He’ll tell them that he wants to see them in this again soon, but that he should make sure he gets the perfect ring for them.

Asmodeus

Immediately squeals and dances around with MC, his eyes taking in every detail on their clothing. He’ll gush over how amazing they look, drowning them in compliments.

He’ll start going on how he wants to marry them right then and there, but he wants to plan the perfect wedding for both of them.

He’ll wink at them if they act flustered, he has thought about marrying them before, so they shouldn’t be so surprised.

Beelzebub

He stares at MC in slight shock before a smile forms on his face. He’ll put down the plate of food he’s working on and approaches them, more interested in them than the snacks.

He’ll compliment MC and run his hand over their arm before holding onto their hand. He can’t take it and picks them up before spinning around with a small laugh.

He’ll tell MC that seeing them like this makes him really happy and he can’t wait for the future.

Belphegor

If he wasn’t awake before, he is now. He’ll stare at them wide-eyed as he tries to memorize every little detail about the clothes that they’re wearing, how their hair looks, everything.

That way, he’ll have better chances of dreaming about them like this. Dreaming of them dancing in his arms, holding onto each other, being happy together.

See the full post

1,826 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

#3

He Has A Nightmare About MC [Obey Me! Headcanons]

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

Lucifer

He awoke with a gasp and shot up to a sitting position. Lucfier stared at his shaking hands, feeling like he could still feel MC's dying form in them. His breathing was labored and his heart hammered painfully. He tried to close his eyes and still his breathing, but he couldn't get the image of MC's dead body out of his mind.

Quickly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and ignored the cold sensation on his feet. He stood and grabbed a dressing robe, pulling his arms through its sleeves. The eldest rushed out of his room and made his way down the halls and to MC's room.

Slowly, he opened the door and peered in. MC's body was covered by the blankets. He couldn't see at this distance if their chest was rising and falling with each breath that they took. Lucifer shuffled inside and pulled a seat up towards their bedside. His crimson eyes drinking in the sight of MC breathing.

His hands still had a slight tremor as he moved some hair from their face. He savored the warmth of their skin, making him momentarily forget the horrific images his mind plagued him with. His hand moved from their face to their exposed hand. He intertwined his fingers with theirs. With a sigh, he sat back in the chair, not having it in him to leave their side just yet. Without meaning to, his mind began to shut down as he fell asleep holding MC's hand.

Mammon

He wasn't sure if he was awake or still trapped in the nightmare. The demon started to hyperventilate and claw for something near him. His eyes opened with tears quickly falling. There was nothing besides him, just his pillows and blankets.

The demon flung the blankets off of him and ran out of his room. He slammed the door open and desperately searched for the human he was in charge of. When his eyes landed o their somehow still sleeping form, he broke down into sobs and slowly made his way over to them.

Mammon crawled onto their bed and held onto them tightly, his head resting on his chest.

"Mmm...Mammon?" MC yawned as they woke up, not unused to him crawling into their bed at the middle of the night. They were, however, not used to him crying like this. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothin'," Mammon sniffled.

"Nightmare?" MC ran their fingers through his hair. He just nodded and moved to be closer to him. MC sighed and hugged him. "It's alright, you're safe now."

Mammon didn't say anything, not wanting to say that it was MC he needed to make sure was safe.

Leviathan

Levi tossed and turned before his eyes finally opened. He sat up from his tub and stared blankly ahead. His mind flashed back to the images of MC getting hurt. He grabbed his D.D.D. and hesitated. They wouldn't care if someone like him was scared. Still, he had to make sure they weren't hurt.

Levi: Are you wake?

MC: Yeah, what's up?

Levi: Nothing, just making sure you're okay.

There wasn't a response. He sighed and put his D.D.D. back to where it was charging. They responded to his initial text, so he knew that they were at least okay. Laying back down, Levi clung onto his blanket and turned to his side. He kept his eyes opened, every time he shut them, the nightmare came back.

A knock on the door sounded, but he didn't say anything, didn't even ask for a password. The door opened and he sat up to peer over the lip of his tub at who came in. His eyes widened at MC's form walking over. A blanket was wrapped around them.

"Scoot over," MC spoke and climbed into the tub. Levi opened his mouth to protest, feeling a harsh blush envelope his face. "You had a nightmare, I'm here to make sure you're the one that's okay. Now lay down."

Levi listened and laid down. His hands and arms twitched, wanting to hold onto MC, but not wanting to make them uncomfortable. As if they sensed his unease, MC shuffled closer to him and wrapped their own arms around him. He stiffened momentarily before relaxing into their embrace. His eyes fluttered close despite his racing heart. The images of his nightmare were long forgotten.

Satan

He woke up and threw the book on him off his chest. He looked around wildly, searching for whoever attacked MC in his dreams. His demons form seeped out in his rage. Then, he realized he was in his room. He stood there, his chest heaving up and down as he started to simmer down.

A knocked sounded on his door. With a sigh, Satan stepped over the book he threw and opened the door to see MC standing there with their eyebrows fitted together in concern.

"I heard a crash, is everything okay?" they explained their presence.

"Yes, sorry. I simply had a nightmare."

See the full post

1,940 notes - Posted January 9, 2022

#2

MC hugs him for the first time [Obey Me! Headcanons]

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

Lucifer

Oh, what's this? He's a bit startled and hides his flustered state well at the sudden form of affection he had not yet seen from this human

If they hold on long enough, he'll slowly wrap his arms around them. It's a bit stiff at first before he melts into the embrace

He'll start to question the warmth he feels inside when MC hugs him, but dismisses it

"If you want to hug me again, you only need to ask."

Mammon

He freaks out and might actually push MC away from him

Oh shit, no wait. Hug him again, he'll pull MC back to hug him. If someone's nearby, he might push back again. He's not sure what he wants.

He does know that he likes what's happening, but doesn't ever want to admit.

"Wh-What do ya think you're doin' grabin' me like that, human?! No, wait, don't stop!"

Leviathan

What's happening?!!?!?!?! He's frozen to the spot, his face is burning up, his heart is racing, he thinks he's going to die.

His legs shake and might give out, MC better be ready to hold him up since he's going to collapse.

He'll try to say something, but all that really comes out are whimpers. He might actually die.

"Y-you can't just h-hug me like that! Give m-me some wa-warning!"

Satan

He'll blink in surprise before he slowly wraps his arms back around MC

It's like MC's a stray cat that had finally warmed up to him and he couldn't be happier.

He'll rub his hand up and down their back or run his hand through their hair, noting how this makes him feel a little less angry with the world.

"I'm glad you've finally warmed up to me, MC. Let's do this again?"

Asmodeus

He'll squeal when MC finally hugs him for the first time.

He'll immediately wrap his arms around them and squeeze them tightly as he jumps up and down with them.

He'll gush over how happy this makes him, realizing that his heart is doing something he hasn't really felt it done before.

"Oh MC! This is one of the best hugs I've ever received! Thank you so much, darling!"

Beelzebub

He'll pat MC's head and slowly wrap his arms around them too.

See the full post

1,948 notes - Posted January 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Barbatos, drunk and crying: I just want Lord Diavolo to be happy. His mother died and his father treated him horribly. It's my job to spoil him after I adopted him.

Lucifer: You didn't adopt him.

Barbatos: Yes I did. Here are the papers.

Lucifer: It's a drawing Diavolo made for you when he was a child.

Barbatos: That's when I decided he was my son.

2,483 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[jinxispunk]

darlin'

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x reader

Summary: a lazy Sunday morning in Austin

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, reader's age is not specified, only description of readers physical appearance is that they have long hair, so much fluff (let me know if I missed anything)

W/C: 591

A/N: this is my first ever Joel fic and my first drabble I've put up on Tumblr omg (pls lemme know what you think and if you enjoy)

The first thing you hear when you wake up isn’t the chirpy birdsong singing through the open window. It isn’t the buzz of cicadas, and it isn’t the faint sound of one of your neighbours mowing their lawn.

The first noise that fills your ears is Joel’s heavy, contented breathing, next to you in bed.

As long as you’ve known Joel, it’s like he has no idea how to really, fully relax. He’s always switched on, ready to jump to aid should Sarah or Tommy or you come calling. Its just who he is. But right now, you’ve never seen him look so peaceful, and any irritation you held in response to his heavy breathing waking you up immediately dissipates when you notice it. The furrow in his brow is gone, the tension he always carries in his shoulders, in his jaw, they’re nowhere to be seen.

He starts to stir, stretching like a cat thats just found the perfect beam of light to rest under, and he reaches out, pulling you closer into his chest.

“Mornin’ darlin’”, he manages through his croaky morning voice.

“Morning gorgeous”, you say as you push his hair out of his face, giving him a peck on the nose.

His fingers are playing with the ends of your hair, which is falling in every which direction onto the crisp white sheets of your shared bed. He reciprocates your kiss with one to your own nose, then your cheeks, your forehead, and finally your lips. You hum against him, kissing him for a while - it could be minutes, it could be an hour - before reluctantly pulling back. He gives you a dejected, pleading look, to which you reply,

“I’ll make you some coffee?”

His frown melts into a smile and he hums, quietly telling you he’ll be downstairs in not too long, and you will yourself out of bed and onto your feet. You’re wearing only one of Joel’s band tees; its far too deep into the Texas summer to be wearing anything bulkier. Sarah stayed over at a friend’s house last night, you remember as you wander past her room, making a mental note to remind Joel she needs collecting in the early afternoon. You slowly plod your way downstairs, stopping by the record player on the counter to play your favourite Elvis album at the moment, before situating yourself by the hob to start on breakfast.

Not long into your self-serenade of ‘Suspicious Minds’ while you cook your eggs scrambled and Joel’s fried, you hear gentle footsteps down the stairs, and not a minute later two strong bare arms wrap around your midsection, beginning to rock you to the rhythm of the record playing. Leaning your head back onto his shoulder, you melt into his touch. He smells like tobacco and vanilla and fresh sheets, and he feels like home.

You turn around in his arms after a few minutes, pecking his lips, before ducking under his arm, sliding over to the pot to start on his coffee. As you do that, he wades over to the fridge, picking out your favourite orange juice before pourring you a glass. Once your eggs on toast are done, you carry his coffee over to the table, and he carries your orange juice, and you both sit and eat and begin to properly wake up.

Sitting there, looking at him, while hes looking at you, and you’re smiling, and he’s scrunching his nose up to make you laugh, you decide that Sundays are your favourite days.

dividers: saradika-graphics

[underthetree845]

Oh thank you so much for the tag! <3

I WRITE: daily || most days (I'm sorry, I wish I could say this T-T) || a few times a week (this is the schedule I fall into naturally when I'm on break) || a few times a month || random (school is really unpredictable, but I try to make time on the weekends when I can! I definitely write less when school is in session though).

I WRITE MOST OFTEN: when I first get up || later in the morning || afternoon || evening || the wee hours of the night (I don't trust myself to write at 1am, if I want to work on my wips late, I'll just edit) || whenever

IN ONE SITTING, I TEND TO WRITE: a few sentences at a time || a few hundred words (Like a few pages at a time, iiiish. Usually what classifies as a scene in my head). || a few thousand words || a complete chapter/section no matter how long (I have never written a chapter in one sitting :')) || an outline (When I don't have enough time to write a scene but I still want to make progress <3) || whatever comes (This too. Sometimes I sit down and my mind explodes with ideas and sometimes it's as painful as peeling a band aid off your skin).

I TEND TO WRITE SCENES: in chronological order with no skipping || mostly in order but with some filler/skipping (I have only skipped ahead once, but I usually stick to chronological order because I'll forget a detail that I needed to add or something like that). || whatever scene I feel like || who knows what’s gonna come out

THE THINGS THAT COME EASIEST TO ME ARE: dialogue || description of senses || description of action || description of characters || description of emotions (Basically anything centering around a character in a specific moment. What they see, hear, and feel, why they feel that way *insert flashback,* stuff about their character overall, etc. etc. I just love it). || exposition || other

I TEND TO WRITE: on a phone (I have a note in my phone where I write specific lines of dialogue I want to remember or things I want the character to do, and I'll reblog and edit posts, but I've never just straight-up written from my phone, the laptop feels so much better). || on a laptop (I write on my laptop at home! I have so many stickers on the back <33) || in a notebook || on whatever paper I can find (Are you insane?? T-T I'm sorry I could never, I've only ever done a few outlines on a sheet of notebook paper) || with speech to text || in the blood of my enemies || it doesn’t really matter to me || on paper first and then typed up || old school typewriter || on a computer

WHEN I TAKE A BREAK FROM WRITING, IT USUALLY LASTS: a few days || a few weeks || a few months (I would rather die than let it go this long. I know I haven't updated my fic in a while, but I do try to work on it when I have time (again, school now takes up a lot of my time :')) but when I notice I haven't posted a chapter in a while I'll write up headcannons or drabbles to try to make up for it in a way). || it’s kind of random

MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WHEN I'M ON A WRITING BREAK: recharge with other creative hobbies (I also like sketching and editing! Reading too <;3) || read/consume other media (Yes, reading, and obviously I have to make time to watch anime sometimes, otherwise I wouldn't be a part of these amazing fandoms!) || do something physical (ha.) || catch up with old friends || work on my WIP in other ways like with playlists or art || other

IN GENERAL, I THINK MY WRITING HABITS ARE: pretty much what I need them to be || okay, but I’m working on making them better (Weekends and little bits when I can work for me, I would like to write more often, but my school schedule doesn't allow it to come easily :( the progress is slow, but it is there!) || non-existent || not great || I’m excited to develop them further || totally random || perfect for me

No pressure tags: @arminsumi @arlerts-angel @chiliyue @moonspirit @arlertikari @golden-clouds

And anyone else who'd like to participate! :)

Writing Habits

tagged by @macabremoons (<3333333) over here! tysm x333

Rules: bold or color what fits you (optional, for funsies: and cross out what least fits you!)

I WRITE: daily || most days || a few times a week || a few times a month || random

I WRITE MOST OFTEN: when I first get up || later in the morning || afternoon || evening || the wee hours of the night || whenever

IN ONE SITTING, I TEND TO WRITE: a few sentences at a time || a few hundred words || a few thousand words || a complete chapter/section no matter how long || an outline || whatever comes

I TEND TO WRITE SCENES: in chronological order with no skipping || mostly in order but with some filler/skipping || whatever scene I feel like || who knows what’s gonna come out

THE THINGS THAT COME EASIEST TO ME ARE: dialogue || description of senses || description of action || description of characters || description of emotions || exposition || other

I TEND TO WRITE: on a phone || on a laptop || in a notebook || on whatever paper I can find || with speech to text || in the blood of my enemies || it doesn’t really matter to me || on paper first and then typed up || old school typewriter || on a computer

WHEN I TAKE A BREAK FROM WRITING, IT USUALLY LASTS: a few days || a few weeks || a few months || it’s kind of random

MY FAVORITE THING TO DO WHEN I'M ON A WRITING BREAK: recharge with other creative hobbies || read/consume other media || do something physical (<- doesnt even go outside lol) || catch up with old friends || work on my WIP in other ways like with playlists or art || other

IN GENERAL, I THINK MY WRITING HABITS ARE: pretty much what I need them to be || okay, but I’m working on making them better || non-existent || not great || I’m excited to develop them further || totally random || perfect for me

Tagging: @canadjester and whoever else wants to do this!!

[dilfs-bitch]

Jake Lockley X Reader - Regret It

Summary : Jake regrets what he did, but realizes it’s too late.

Word account : 772

Tags : Metion of Layla, angst, cheating, break up.

A/n : I wrote this for Jake based on that song "Romantic Homicide" Not so good but I needed to write this drabble about him. I'll probably delete later, sorry if there any grammatical mistakes, English not and my first language and thanks for the followers.

_________________________________

" Te extraño cariño "

" Cariño " it was so different to hear this word coming out of his mouth now, it was not like the other times you smiled and your heart was filled with joy every time he said it, now it seemed empty. Something so special has become a normal and bland word.

" Is too late and you know it "

" It’s not too late for us, mi vida I can do different " He held your hand looking right in your eyes.

You tried to remember any memory of someday he begging you for anything is all you found was memories of you begging him, there were so many times that you begged him not to disappear for so long, you begged more times than you would like to admit for him to show feel anything for you, were so many times that you begged him to love you.

About her? Layla didn’t even have to try, she never had to do anything to get his love. It hurt to see the way his eyes lit up the first time he saw her and even though your heart didn’t want to admit your head already knew.

It took some time for you to finally accept that the man you loved was in love with another woman. Each time he was kind, he faced more often, sometimes he’d fight with the other alters and all that because he wanted to be around her in a way he never wanted with you. There were so many nights that you stayed awake crying desperately to take that feeling away from you, the fucking sense of betrayal and to be used, only used that’s what you had been, used so he could take his frustration out on you in and out of the room.

That’s how it worked, he disappeared for days and weeks, sometimes even months, without any calls or text message and when he finally come back, frustrated for spending so many days out doing the hard job, and then he was yelling at you for ask a simple question that’s how end in sex until you woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone. It hurt so bad finally accept that you were just someone insignificant.

So you did what he did, disappeared for days, weeks and only six months later he started calling you desperately, texting you begging to know where you were, It seemed stupid to answer his messages but you did and told him where you was, there's a part of you that wanted to know what changed and you knew, Layla was gone, dealing with the three was too much that he came to you, as he always did. Cause he knew no matter what happened you’d be waiting for him, like you’ve always done since the day you met him.

" There never was us " You pushed your hand away from him, who frowned confused by your rejection.

" No me hagas esto Y/n " He took a deep breath pressing the tip of his nose, as he always did when he was frustrated.

He ran his hands in the face the panic growing bigger and bigger when you didn’t seem to care about anything he was saying, and his heart was pressed with the memory of you who used to beg him to love you and for the first time he found out how bad it was to beg for someone, and yet he was willing to beg to feel your love again.

" Voy a hacer las cosas diferentes cariño "

" You can’t. cause I killed you Jake and I don’t regret it" You swallowed dry trying to control the mixed emotions that grew inside you. " I’m tired of waiting for you"

" Ple-" He started.

" Don’t make me hate you more " Your looks connect for a fraction of a second before you get up and walk away without even looking back.

Your eyes as intense as ever, but this time had a small difference and maybe it was that, was the hatred you felt for him now, Jake rested his head against the palms closing his eyes, his chest gasping, he did not notice immediately until the tears were running down his face, vulnerability was never his thing but there he was trying at all costs to keep his walls even if they were already break down in the instant you got up and walked out that door. Jake felt so sorry for what he did, but he couldn’t do anything, it was too late when he finally realized he loved you.

------------

Translate:

Te extraño cariño - I miss you

No me hagas esto - Don't do this to me.

Voy a hacer las cosas diferentes - I’ll make things different

Cariño - Baby .

[royalwriteroftheuniverse]

Maybe. Drabble

He's watching you on the train and he remembered one of his favorite memories if not his favorite minus your wedding.

18+ just incase

Warning just fluffy. There is angst sorry I forgot to mention it I dont think its any smutt But just incase its a married couldpe taking a shower the "he" is a celebrity who lost his wife well sort of you can find part 1 here just pick your own celeb for "he"

He watched you sitting on the train and remembered.

One of his favorite memories was just after you two had gotten married and moved in together. You both needed a shower and both needed to leave quickly.

He had convinced you to take a shower with him "just for times sake."

Its not like he hadn't seen you naked before.

He had convinced you to to take a bath with him. Something you had later admitted you wanted but was just nervous about.

You both had discussed moving in together and the. Getting married just cause your mom said she would have done that. So you wanted her to be happy with you and Chris well why would he object to having yiu around all the time.

But the shower was really for time's sake. His phone had been in the shower before so he knew it was water proof. You both had taken turns under the shower head singing off you had just rinsed conditioner off as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders giving you a kiss on your shoulder. You giggle making him smile. It always made him smile. He brought the camera up for a selfie.

"Say cheese"

Oh my God baby no" he saw on the camera how wide your eyes had gotten

"Only shoulders up I promise.

"Come on," he kissed closer to your neck. "Our first shower."

You roll your eyes

"Please baby I promise"

Another kiss on the neck

"Shoulders up thats all."

He kisses you again.

"Ok okay I need a cold shower now though."

He tells you a joke but he can't remember the joke now it had to be shower related or made rain. He wished to God he could remember the joke. But whatever it was it made you laugh out loud holding on to his arm which was wrapped around you

And he had quickly taken a few pictures one where he was looking down and another where he was looking over at you. You were unaware still laughing out and he had no idea until he took a look at the photo how he was looking at you so adoringly. In love he was in love he knew but he never saw how he looked at you. And the next one was you looking up at him with the same look of adoration and love and joy.

The last one was of both of you looking at the camera. Cheesy smiles but you both were so happy, content.

He'd give almost anything for thay feeling again..give anything but you that is.

Tag list

@nana1000night @sapphire-rogers @patzammit @sparklybarbarianninja @hawkeyes-queen

[harry-on-broadway]

Hi friends! I can’t believe it has been almost one year since I posted my first piece of writing on here. In that time, I’ve made so many new friends and have loved getting to read all of the amazing Harry-related writing on this site. So, to celebrate, I’m putting together a fun little writing challenge. 

The Rules:

1. Use a picture, GIF, or written prompt (or any combination of those) and write something about Harry! It can can be a quick concept, a drabble, or a full length fic. It can be a standalone story or a chapter in an existing series/universe. It can be fluff, smut, angst, whatever! The important thing is to just write!

2. When you’re done writing, make sure to tag me, as well as use the #HarryOnBroadwayFicChallenge tag so I can see it! I’m also going to make a big post with everyone’s writing when the challenge is over. 

3. This will officially run from today, Oct. 16, to Nov. 30, but tbh we’re all busy and those dates are just rough guidelines. Feel free to participate anytime through the end of the year. 

4. Have fun! This is all about spreading positivity and remembering that fandom is a space to have fun and be creative. 💕

Now for the prompts...

Picture Prompts 

GIF Prompts

Dialogue Prompts:

1. “What’s this then?”

2. “You’ve caught me at a really bad time.”

3. “Say more, darling.”

4. “Well, this is new.”

5. “How are you feeling today? A little better, hmm?”

6. “Let me make you feel good.” 

7. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

8.  “Well, that’s not a very nice way of putting it. But yes, I suppose you’re right.”

9. “Is that my shirt?”

10. “Later you will definitely need to tell me where you learned this.”

11. “Believe me, my dear, no-one regrets this more than I do.”

12. “No. Hell, no. Absolutely not.”

13. “That’s a very … bold … thing to say.”

14. “I don’t actually like coffee.”

15. “Hey. Look at me.”

16. “Do you like that?”

17. “Hey! Yeah it’s me….guess what…I’m coming home.”

18. “Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.”

19. “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

20. “You left it here the last time.” 

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out! I can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with! 💕💕💕💕

[mailoveforu]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆.

twisted wonderland — ꒰ rsa oc drabble ꒱

✎ tags and warnings: yandere, murder, stalker behavior, delusional relationship; please avoid if you don’t like yandere, thank you. ✎ characters: ambrosi beausoleil (twst aurora oc), fleuri sith (twst flora oc) ✎ a/n: this is my first attempt at writing yandere i’m so sorry if this is bad- also i know i never made profiles for any of my rsa ocs much less my nrc ocs but i just really wanted to write this TvT

“…Ah. Look at what you did.” The man scoffed, narrowing his eyes. His silver sword was now splattered with blood, but unfortunately it had gotten onto his outfit as well. Huh…And here he thought he trained enough to not let that happen. Or perhaps the silent rage he felt was enough to make him lose his cool. “You ruined my suit…I’m gonna be late for my date now.”

“If you didn’t look at them like that then this wouldn’t have happened...” He grumbled to the mutilated man beneath his feet pitifully, as if it could still hear him. Sheathing his sword, he dragged the body deeper into the dark alleyway to hide from potential prying eyes. Trying to get rid of the body now would make his lover more worried about him not responding…He can just leave it here and come back later. But people would smell the blood if he just left it. Decisions, decisions…

He checked his phone. So many notifications that he missed- All so worried for him and wondering where he is. How cute.

Ah, his heart clenches at how he had to ignore your desperate messages just to focus on this disgusting thing.

sorry, i think i’m gonna need to delay our hangout to a later time. an urgent meeting with the other royal families suddenly came up, i’ll text you again when we’re done.

And his heart ached even more at the lie he told. What a despicable mess he is. Dishonesty is something he hates the most, and yet he’s becoming that…

Ah- But does it matter? He’s protecting you. Yes, protecting. Sometimes things need to be hidden for the sake of someone’s life—It’s just like what the three fairies did with that cursed child. Besides, you’re understanding and caring enough to not complain about it, right? If you weren’t, he wouldn’t have fallen in love.

…Yes, that’s right. He’s just doing the right thing to protect that lovely smile of yours; your tears as well, and your angered expression, along with your pout, or embarrassed face. All of it, he can remember vividly. Looking at the photos he took of you, whether with permission or not, it didn’t matter—You’re ethereal in each and every one, and it made him feel better despite what he did a few minutes ago.

What a beauty. No—the word beauty doesn’t feel enough to describe you. You’re more than that, much more; he could look at you forever.

If anyone walked in on him and witnessed that red face and those heavy breaths, they would’ve thought he was sick.

Lovesick, even.

“Ambrosi~ Child, where are you?” A voice called out right around the corner.

…Ah. Of course one of his caretakers would be here. They can’t leave him alone for a minute, still being protective of him even though he’s an adult.

The blonde didn’t say anything in response to the voice; he simply stared more at his phone. However, the blush on his face did fade away after he heard the man’s voice, almost as if it disappointed him how his infatuation got interrupted.

“Ah, there you are!” An effeminate man lightly walked over to where Ambrosi is, completely ignoring the corpse that was next to the prince and the horrible stench of iron. Doesn’t even spare it a glance, or even revolt at the smell. It’s like this is a normal occurrence…Or maybe the red fae is just used to seeing dead bodies. “What are you doing today, dressing so fancy like that? I don’t recall there being a royal meeting today. You even fixed your hair, which you never do!” He laughed.

Ambrosi ignored his godfather for a bit before finally answering, looking at him stoically. “…I’m gonna go hang out with someone.”

“Oh, really?” Fleuri gasped. Ambrosi usually ghosted the people he hangs out with, so to see that he’s actually going through with a planned hangout was surprising to him, to say the least. “Well well, have fun with whoever you’re going with then~ No idea why you’re dressed so formally though if it’s just a regular hangout with your friend-“

“Lover.”

“…” Fleuri paused for a moment at the sudden interruption, but then a grin slowly made its way onto his face. “Oh~? Has our briar rose finally found someone he loves~?” He teases. Ambrosi chuckled in response, a blush on his face again as he faced away. He felt so giddy about it; the feeling of love is truly amazing if it made him smile this much.

”Who’s the lucky person, hm?” Fleuri hummed, resting his head on the prince’s shoulder as he glanced at the phone; it was still on a picture of you, with a flower crown placed neatly on your head. “Oh my, if it isn’t the prefect from Ramshackle! Haah, what a shame that they’re not here at RSA. They’re so cute when they’re with you too.” A pitiful sigh. “Do they know you like them in that way already?” The red fae asked excitedly.

Ambrosi let out a dreamy exhale; he can feel his heart pounding even more, his face becoming more and more hot. His imagination’s running wild, thinking of a beautiful wedding with you already. Imagining a royal life with him as king and you as his lovely monarch—Or even running away from royalty and living life in a small cottage; whichever one it would be, he just wanted to be with you.

He’ll make it all happen.

“They will soon.”