#stress bal

[bamboozledcrystal]

day 1 — your favorite stims ( @bloomics stimboard event ) || divider

1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6 7 - 8 - 9

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More Nimona headcanons because these dorks have taken over my brain

I feel like Nimona tried really hard to hate Ambrosius

The first month they knew each other Nimona tried so hard to antagonize him and poke fun at him and remind him of the shit he’s done wrong 

But it’s kind of hard to hate someone who’s slow to anger and quick to forgive 

Reminding someone of their past mistakes with the intent to hurt them kind of stops being fun when the person is constantly aware of their mistakes 

And owns up to them without making excuses and is constantly trying to undo the damage their mistakes caused  

After a while, he grows on her and she starts to trust him and in return he trusts her

This one is based heavily on me and my best friends 

Nimona and Ambrosius will talk shit loudly in public 

They won’t use code names and if they don’t know the person they’ll start describing them like “Did you see that dude in the yellow shirt? He just pushed that kid out of line what a dick!”

They won't check to see if the person is out of earshot either they simply don't give a fuck

And this gives Bal so much fucking anxiety enough that he starts pleading with them to stop

You hear them going off about something and Bal saying “Ambrosius love hun sunshine I’m begging you to keep your voice down” 

“Nim Nimona starlight hi I would like to remind you that they’re still behind us and I don’t want to explain to Ambrosius why you’ve gotten into another fight this week so please stop” 

To which Nimona responds with “Tell him he’ll probably laugh”

Whenever Nimona and Ambrosius want to rant they rant to each other 

Because Bal is the type of person to give advice in the middle of a rant 

Talking some “If you explain this to them in a calm and compassionate manner I’m sure they’ll stop”

And while that's excellent advice sometimes you just want to scream your most unhinged thoughts at someone 

And they never judge each other either 

Nimona can look Ambrosius dead in the eyes and go “Have you ever gotten so angry during an argument that you’ve considered lighting their car on fire?” 

And Ambrosius won't even think about it he’ll respond immediately with a “Who hasn't?” while Bal slowly backs out of the room and silently vows to hide his car the next time they fight 

Whenever Ambrosius comes home from a stressful day at work he just walks into the house and lets out the most dramatic drawn out sigh 

And whenever Nimona hears that noise they’ll run to the living room and sit on the couch patiently waiting for their daily rant session 

Whenever Nimona gets home and wants to rant he’ll walk around until he finds Ambrosius

And if he can't find him he’ll sit by Bal and stew in his anger while he waits for him to come home 

He can't even take one step through the door without Nimona saying something like “How dare you make me wait” 

And Ambrosius will always respond with something like “Oh I’m so sorry firecracker it’ll never happen again”

And encourage them to tell him the information they’ve been patiently waiting to spill

Bal doesn’t rant unless he’s literally at the end of his rope

Like you have to royally screw him over for him to go home and rant to his family 

When he finally rants to them they don’t make a big deal out of it 

But they do however try their best to take care of him without raising his suspicions 

Nimona will conveniently make Bal’s favorite dinner 

Ambrosius will just so happen to pick up his favorite dessert on his way home (cause they both know the signs of a Bal rant and they plan accordingly) 

They listen to his rant and let him eat his favorite food in peace while they play his favorite movies 

You know real wholesome shit 

All the while they’re coming up with plans in their head to destroy this person's life

[0ann3]

Moral Support

[tanlorin]

lucilla: you better not fucking kill yourself

[the-clay-quarters]

note to self to figure out coherent thoughts about silversteins presumed lack of dream/parabola shenanigans contending with the coil being entirely dream/parabola/??? shenanigans

[endawn]

dealing with the caz thing first only to move onto finding ans..ur and pax gets possessed by an entity all over again if he’s the one to touch the dead dragon

[essencefluxed]

I have a couple things half written that I’ll finish tomorrow bc i am eepies

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

i’m obsessed with your declan fics! can we get one where the reader has to calm him down? it would be even more fun if they were mad/annoyed at each other but he can’t help but seek her out when he needs comfort 👀

Paradoxical.

you currently can’t stand the sight of each other. and yet, in this moment… yours is the only face he wants to see.

declan o’hara x female reader (nickname - lucky.)

warnings - smut. cursing. angst. unspecified age gap. yeeeeeearning.

word count - 4.6k

authors note - she’s back 💋. loooved this request, so thank you so much to whoever sent it!! i’m still on my rivals shit, so please join me in this never ending journey. never getting over this man <3

masterlist. inbox.

“How are you doing?”

You snuggle further into the pillows on the bed, popping another strawberry in your mouth to avoid the question.

“Lucky.”

“Hmm?”

“I asked how you are.”

“M’fine,” you answer as you chew, praying the subject gets changed. She clearly doesn’t believe you, so you sigh and look at her pointedly. “I’m being serious. I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Taggie.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No! I’d never think that.”

“Then why are you treating me like I’m oblivious? I can see that you’re not fine, but you keep lying to my face.”

Taking a deep breath, you exhale in resignation.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re caught in the middle of all of this, Tag.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. He’s your dad, I’m your friend. You are quite literally the middle man here.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she counters, perching on the edge of her bed. “If I have to be the peacekeeper, I will be.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

“I know, but these things happen. I just… if I knew what had happened, I could try and fix it.”

“You can’t fix this, Tag. I promise you, you can’t.”

She’s quiet for a moment, tracing the patterns on your socks as she thinks.

“What happened, Lucky? I swear that whatever it is, I won’t judge you. I just want to know how it all went so… wrong. One minute the two of you were the best of friends, and the next minute you’re packing up your office and leaving without so much as an explanation.”

“It’s complicated,” you murmur.

“So complicated that you had to quit your job?”

“Yes.”

“He’s never going to find a better assistant than you, you know. Never. He doesn’t even want to look for one, says he’d rather do all the work himself.”

“Well that’s stupid of him. He can’t do all that stuff himself.”

“Exactly. He’s willing to put himself through all of that stress so as not to replace you.”

“That’s his foolish choice, Tag.”

She sighs in frustration, leaning back against the footboard of the bed.

“Did he upset you? Did he say something stupid? You know what he’s like, he often doesn’t think before he speaks. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation here.”

“It wasn’t him, it was me. I quit by my own volition. He didn’t upset me, he didn’t offend me… I just had to do the right thing, which was to leave. I know you’re trying to help, Tag, but you can’t. Not with this.”

Taggie finally realises that she’s fighting a losing battle, choosing instead to shuffle over so she’s all cosy in the pillows next to you.

“I won’t tell him you were here,” she whispers, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you’re caught up in the middle of all of this.”

“I don’t mind, honestly. I just wish there was something I could do.”

“Give it some time. It’s meant to heal all wounds, after all.”

She chuckles, resting her head against yours affectionately.

“Will you help me make some raspberry tarts? I need at least forty of them, and I could do with an extra pair of hands.”

“Of course I will. But if your dad comes home, I’m sprinting out the back door.”

“Alright,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help with your escape, if need be.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re tempted to smash your head into the bar top.

You’ve been debating the pros and cons of it for the last forty five minutes, actually.

The gala is bustling, bodies packed into the beautiful ballroom with barely an inch between them. Everyone has a drink in hand, the light from the chandelier glinting off of the champagne and whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

You’d said yes to the event when you were still Declan’s assistant - assuming that you’d go together, just like always. And now, here you are, standing on opposite ends of the room and avoiding each other like your lives depend on it.

A cool hand finds your waist, spiced aftershave hitting your senses and letting you know who it is before they even have to speak.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hi, Rupert.”

He spins you around gracefully, smiling at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“You look ravishing, as always.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know. You scrub up quite nicely.”

“Oh stop, I’ll start blushing.”

You can’t help but laugh, accepting his arm as he offers it out to you.

“Come on darling, let’s socialise a bit. You can’t stand in the corner forever.”

“I can.”

“Not on my watch.”

He’s dragging you across the floor before you can process what’s happening, people passing by you in blurs of colour and sparkles.

“Dance with me.”

“Is this fun for you? Torturing me?”

“Oh, immensely,” he grins, hands finding your hips.

You reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him with a quirked brow.

“Don’t you have a thousand other women you could be dancing with, Rupert?”

He spins you playfully, laughing as you shriek.

“I do, but none of them are nearly as beautiful as you.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Does that line usually work?”

“Never on women as smart as you,” he chuckles, swaying you gently.

You stare at him carefully for a moment, realising you know him too well when you instantly see through his carefree facade.

“Ask it, then.”

“Hmm?”

“I know that’s what this is. You’re going to get me all soft and relaxed and tipsy, and then you’ll ask me about Declan. You might as well just cut to the chase, Rupert.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re much too intelligent to think that I believe that.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head, getting a good look at you and your unwavering expression.

“Fine, you stubborn woman. Fine. I wanted to ask you about Declan at some point tonight. But only from a place of care and concern, not because I’m going to try to wrangle the two you of back together or anything.”

“Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”

“Forgive me for being confused, alright? You were joined at the hip, and all of a sudden you can’t stand the sight of each other. It’s just so unlike the two of you.”

You sigh deeply, dropping your head forward so it rests on his chest. Rupert’s arms tighten around you, silently letting you know he’s got your back.

“It’s complicated,” you explain, muffled by the material of the man’s shirt. “Stupidly complicated.”

“So complicated that it can never, ever be repaired? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Blimey,” he half gasps, the sound vibrating through the both of you. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, you bastard.”

Rupert laughs so loudly that people turn their heads to see why, the cadence of it completely infectious. Declan watches from across the room, unable to help himself from at least glancing at the two of you together so cosily.

“He’s currently watching you like some sort of bird of prey,” he informs, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Whatever it was that happened, it hasn’t erased the fact that he cares about you. A lot. And I know for a fact you care about him.”

“Of course I do.”

“There we go then. Surely it’s nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of good old fashioned communication.”

“You’re a terrible communicator,” you argue.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you both sway to the music once again.

“If I had a pound for every time that applied to you, Rupert, I’d be a fucking millionaire.”

He twirls you outwards quickly, watching as the skirt of your dress billows with the breeze of the action.

“And if I had a pound for every time Declan has pretended to stare interestedly around the room this evening just so he has an excuse to look at you, I’d be a millionaire too.”

You ignore the way your heartbeat picks up at his words, choosing instead to focus on the steady rhythm of the music from the piano that fills the space.

“Maybe he’s looking at you.”

“No, Lucky. He’s always looking at you.”

You sigh in resignation, fingers fiddling with Rupert’s collar as you straighten out his tie.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to respond to that.”

“You’re practically his right arm. This separation, whatever its cause, is doing both of you more harm than good. I don’t want to push you darling, because that isn’t fair - but just think about everything I’ve said, alright?”

He stares at you expectantly, brows raised in questioning.

“Alright.”

The grin on his face is almost blinding, beaming out in all directions.

“Now, you look too beautiful to stand on the fringes. I will dance with you all night if I have to, if it means showing off this stunning dress of yours.”

“So charming,” you smile, shaking your head. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, isn’t it?”

“You’d be stupid to,” he winks, still grinning like the devil.

You let him lead you further into the middle of the dance floor, chuckling as he spins you as you go. Your hand has just slipped into Rupert’s once more when you’re both startled by a crash coming from the other side of the room.

The two of you whip your heads around towards the source of the commotion, to see two men in undoubtedly expensive suits brawling with each other. One of them is throwing punches while the other can do nothing but take them, merciless at his opponents hands. Some people are shouting and screaming, trying to physically separate them, while others turn a complete blind eye to the ruckus.

“Fuck,” Rupert mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the scene.

You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing when you’re pushed forwards and given a clearer view of what’s in front of you, understanding Rupert’s panic immediately.

Ginger is on the floor. Declan is standing above him with bloody knuckles.

“Fuck,” you repeat.

You want to run in the other direction, desperate to not be involved with the drama. And then you look at Declan - the way he’s falling apart at the seams, nerves ruined and adrenaline rushing through his veins, clearly on the edge of something awful… and all of a sudden you’re walking towards the brawl, logic be damned.

There’s so much noise surrounding you that you can’t hear yourself think. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding against your ribcage in your sudden determination to get to the Irishman.

You’re yelling his name without even realising you’re doing it, shouting at the top of your lungs to fight over the commotion.

“Declan! Oh for fuck sake… Declan!”

Your voice somehow breaks through the noise like a sirens call, the familiar melody of it finding his ears like his favourite song. His eyes finally meet yours, and the rest of the room melts away.

You have a conversation without saying anything, so many words exchanged in such a short amount of time. The two of you have always been good at this - communicating in your own language, silently and easily.

You grab his injured hand and intertwine your fingers with his, pulling him away from the scene of the crime with determination. You cast a look back to Ginger, who remains on the floor with blood dripping from his nose, before dragging Declan through the crowd and towards the front door of the huge Manor House. You can hear Rupert trying to mitigate the situation as you leave, using his charm as he does best.

You make your way outside, yanking the man behind you in your path without so much of a glance backwards. You trudge through the gardens in your heels, ignoring the way the dewy grass brushes across the tops of your feet occasionally. Finally, after walking for what feels like hours but was actually mere minutes, you come across a bench, sheltered by an old stone wall and neatly trimmed hedges.

You shove him to sit down, still refusing to look him in the eye. Neither of you say anything, the evening breeze and two sets of lungs heaving all that can be heard.

“What happened?” you whisper eventually, reluctant to disturb the peace. “Who started it?”

Declan looks surprised that you’re speaking to him, failing to hide the shock on his face.

“Will ya sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore, remember?” you half joke, sitting down anyway.

“Funny,” he says, completely deadpan. He looks at you carefully for a long moment, before continuing. “It was Ginger, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with him otherwise.”

“What did he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me.”

“Well it shouldn’t.”

“Right.”

You stare at your shoes, wondering why you even bothered to rescue him back in the ballroom.

“Fuck this, then,” you mutter as you stand up to leave.

A hand wraps around your wrist as quick as a flash, pulling you back to sit down where you were.

“No. You don’t get to just walk away from me, not again.”

“Tell me what Ginger said.”

“Tell me why you quit workin’ for me.”

“I already did.”

“Liar. You gave me a poor excuse that’s absolute bollocks. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“That’s your problem, then.”

“Yes, it is.”

You stare at him, completely exasperated by the events of the last hour.

“You can’t just punch people at galas, Declan. It’s a bad look for you, for Venturer, and for every member of staff that relies on you.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with both you and the situation at hand.

“He made some horrible comment about you. I fell right into his trap too, like a bull and a fuckin’ red scarf.”

“What did he say?”

He hesitates for a moment.

“Just… something crude about you sleepin’ with me to get to where you are. Called me a cradle snatcher, too.”

“You can’t be a cradle snatcher if I’m a grown woman.”

“Exactly. And it’s not true, anyway. We all know that.”

“So why did you hit him, then? If we all know it’s not true?”

Declan sighs, fatigue painting the sound.

“Because no one gets to speak about you like that with no consequence. And because I was angry.”

“At me.”

“At you. Yes.”

You fiddle with your fingers, entirely unprepared for the fact that you’re about to have the one conversation you’ve been completely avoiding.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you begin. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

“Then what did you mean to happen, Lucky? Did you think that you could just up and quit with absolutely no warning, without a problem? That I’d just let you walk out? Did ya think I’d help you pack your things?”

“Obviously not,” you whisper. “I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not. Which is why I know that you thought about that decision long and hard. And that’s what I can’t seem to wrap my head around.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, clearly desperate to resolve the issues between you.

“Please, Lucky.”

His voice is cracking just like his heart, breaking down the middle to allow all of his emotions to spill out onto the grass. You’ve never heard him sound like this. You hate it.

“I had to, Declan. For both of our sakes.”

“For fuck sake, can you cut it out?” he snaps, volume raising.

“Cut what out?”

“Speaking in these fucking riddles! I can’t even pretend that I have any idea what you’re talkin’ about. Please, whatever it is, however terrible you think it is… I just need you to say it. We’ll deal with the consequences. But I can’t keep goin’ around in circles, dancing around the subject constantly.”

You take a deep breath, bottom lip wobbling as you will yourself not to cry. You’re well and truly at the end of your tether, unsure of how much more you can take - or how much you want to. Deciding to throw caution into the wind, you exhale carefully before turning to face the man next to you.

“You’ll hate me. When I tell you.”

“I could never hate you. Never, Lucky.”

You get lost in your own head for a moment, staring off into space as you debate the best way to go about this. A large hand finds its way into your knee, comforting and grounding. His thumb rubs patterns into your skin where the slit of your dress is, warming you up from the outside in.

“I thought about it for a long time,” you begin. “A long time. Because being your assistant is the best job I have ever had, or will ever have. It was a dream, Declan. Even when we had a tough day, or week, or month, I always knew we’d be okay.”

He nods, his full attention on you.

“We were comfortable, me and you. Maybe a little too comfortable for a boss and his assistant, but in a good way, I think. I was settled, with you.”

He squeezes your thigh, urging you to continue.

“But then, I think we got too settled. People started to notice - which doesn’t matter, but they did nonetheless. I was sleeping over at your house, staying awake with you until the early hours, attending galas and events as your date. And I wasn’t sure what it was - the thing that was bothering me - until one day, it clicked.”

“Lucky…” he whispers, desperate for you to spit it out.

“I’m in love with you.”

The two of you sit the silence for a moment, listening to the breeze softly whip around you.

“That’s what clicked. And that’s why I quit. Because it felt like a conflict of interest, like a… betrayal.”

“A betrayal?”

“Yes. Like I was taking advantage, or something. And I didn’t think it was fair, for you, having me pining over you at work. I didn’t want you to feel pity for me, if you noticed eventually - I hated the idea of being treated differently by you, all through fault of my own. So I quit to get ahead of it.”

“Are ya done?”

“I, uh… yes?”

“Great.”

Declan surges forward, smashing his lips to yours with the most passion than you’ve ever experienced in your life. One of his hands tangles in your hair as the other cradles your face, pulling you as close as he physically can. His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily, allowing you to taste whiskey, cigarettes and the cool night air. Eventually, when you both need to breathe, he pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on yours.

“Did you do that to make me shut up?” you murmur, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Yes and no.”

He’s grinning like the devil, chuckling as the palms of his hands find your cheeks.

“Yes and no?”

“Yes and no. I took the action needed to stop you rambling. But I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.”

“… What?”

“Why do you think we got so comfortable, Lucky? It works two ways. You were just the only one brave enough to make a change - even if it was the completely wrong thing to do.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

“The opposite,” he laughs. “I can’t remember when it happened. I woke up one day and I just knew. And I knew that you’d never feel the same way, but I love being around you so much that I was willing to make that sacrifice. So I was a coward, and I stayed silent.”

“We’ve made this complicated. Too complicated.”

“Much too complicated.”

“But… it is. You were my boss, and you’re older than me, and I’m good friends with Taggie now, and-”

Declan kisses you again, sweeter this time.

“We can figure it out, Lucky. You know we can.”

“Maybe,” you whisper.

“And I want you to come back to work.”

“Declan-”

“I’m serious. I cannot cope without you. I will never find an assistant as good as you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want you. No one else.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest, like I said earlier.”

“But it isn’t. Not anymore. Before all of this, we were two people in love working together. And when you come back, we’ll be two people in love working together.”

You can’t find it in you to argue, realising that he’s actually making a good point. If anything, it should be easier now that you’ve both communicated your feelings - no more skeletons in the closet.

“Tell me you don’t miss it,” he provokes. “Tell me you’re not even remotely tempted to come back.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly.”

You take a deep breath, moving the hair away from his eyes tenderly.

“I’ll think about it, alright? I’ll have a think when I go home.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, entirely too satisfied with the outcome of this conversation.

“I know we’re in uncharted territory here, Lucky. But we can figure it out. You know we can.”

“I know. It’ll be hard, but… I know.”

You lean up to kiss him softly, sighing as your eyes drift closed. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pulls you closer, trying to plaster every inch of his body to yours.

You lose yourself in everything Declan - the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels underneath your fingertips. You want to strip him bare right here and memorise every curve of his muscles, every line in his skin, every mark on his face.

His hand slips further and further up the slit of your dress, gripping at your thigh as if he’s worried you’ll slip away. You’re half in his lap, draped over him on the bench as he still pulls you impossibly closer.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he whispers against your throat. “Every. Single. Night.”

He kisses his way along your neck, revelling in the way you squirm at the feeling of his moustache on your skin. You grab fistfuls of his white shirt, crumpling it in your hands to try and give yourself some sort of anchor.

When Declan’s fingertips slip into your underwear, all you can do is sigh, resigned to the fact that you’d let him do absolutely anything he wanted in this current moment.

“We’re in public,” you protest weakly, both of you knowing you don’t want him to stop.

“We’re at the bottom of the garden, surrounded by three hedges and a wall. If anyone sees, that’s their fault.”

You drop your head forward onto his shoulder, parting your legs to give him a better angle. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels just how aroused you are, practically vibrating with want.

“Are ya this wet f’me?”

You nod against his shirt, not trusting your voice.

“Oh, sweetheart. Well I can’t leave you like this, can I? That’d be cruel.”

He pulls your underwear to the side fully so he can slip a finger into you with ease, both of you groaning at the sensation. Sliding a second one in, you hold onto him for dear life, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

“Please,” you whisper. “Declan, please.”

“I’ll do anything to hear you say my name like that again, Lucky. Anything in the world.”

“Declan.”

He sets a steady pace, crooking his fingers as he goes to make sure you see stars. Your eyes are rolling back, lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds that threaten to escape.

“God, I wish I could hear how pretty you sound,” he groans, looking at you intently. “You can make as much noise as you want when I take you home. Promise.”

You whimper softly, bucking your hips up to meet his rhythm. The bench is cold underneath you, the air turning chilly, but neither of you pay any mind to it. You’re too far gone to care.

You grab Declan’s other hand and stick two of his fingers in your mouth, laving your tongue around them to keep you quiet. He moans at the sight, all deep and rumbled, the sound reverberating through both of you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

All you can do is look at him with big, bright eyes, pleading with him silently to finish the job at hand.

“You want me to make you come, sweetheart? That it?”

When you nod, he picks up the pace of his fingers, thumb pressing circles into your clit.

“Have ya thought about this? In bed, alone, getting yourself off in the dark?”

You whine at his words, nodding your head in answer.

“That’s a good girl. Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and I’ll take you home and fuck you properly, yeah?”

You see stars as you climax, gripping onto his shirt and his hand for dear life. He works you through it, murmuring filthy promises into your ear as he does it.

Lifting his fingers from between your thighs, he pops them straight into his mouth, both of you groaning in unison.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against your lips, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Perfect girl.”

You shuffle sideways so you’re pressed into Declan’s side, two strong arms encircling you immediately.

“Thank you.”

“For the orgasm?”

“Yes and no,” you laugh. “For listening to me. I’ve been going insane trying to think about what I’d say to you if I got the chance to explain myself, but no words seemed to suffice.”

“I just wish you’d talked to me sooner, sweetheart. I’ve been going insane trying to get through life without you. Not to mention that office is chaos.”

You laugh gently, cuddling into him and his warmth.

“I’ll fix it on Monday.”

“Yeah? For definite?” he asks, hope colouring his voice.

“Yeah. Like I said - best job I’ve ever had.”

“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, sweetheart.”

You grin as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, all soft and sugary sweet.

“Besides. Someone’s going to have to sort out the inevitable mess that’ll follow you hitting Ginger at a charity gala.”

“Ah, I forgot about that,” he laughs, planting a kiss into your hair. “What would I do without ya, hmm?”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you smile, resting your head onto his shoulder. “Never again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You sit on the bench for a little while longer, both of you looking up at the stars that paint the sky in a canopy above your heads. You’re quite convinced you could stay like this forever, just the two of you in your own little universe.

There’s paperwork to be done, meetings to be had, deals to be made. But all of that can wait.

Right now, it’s just you and Declan.

The way it should be.

reblogs are gold dust, lovers!! reblog and circulate your favourite fics, and your writers will create more. simple. <3

[sefarlen]

Bal ~~💓💓

When I'm stressed out, I like to draw him and his super cute Puppy Eye.✨✨

[dangraccoon]

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE

Chapter 7 - Talk

Word Count: 1449

Content: everyone in the 212th are both Cody and Kenobi's wingmen, brotherly teasing, listen they are openly flirting in this one and Cody is being a disaster about it all, someone give Rex an award for dealing with this man

For @literallyjustanerd, based on this post

Mando'a Guide shebs - ass vod - brother/sister/sibling Kote - glory; used here as Cody's real name before it was simplified to 'Cody' taylir gar kovid olar bal jii - keep your head here and now ibic linibar gar mirda - this needs your mind ori'vod - big brother/sister/sibling jetiise - Jedi (plural; singular is jetii)

“Come on, General!” a shiny shouted, not noticing Cody’s presence. “Kick his shebs!”

Cody leaned a little to see through the crowded troopers. On the practice mat he saw two men; one trooper, down to just his blacks - Boil, by the looks of it, and General Kenobi. He was in a simple tunic, plain colors, like most of his clothing. Sweat was dripping down his face, but he smirked as he spoke quietly to his opponent. 

Cody suddenly felt that the room was far too hot, and his armor was too constricting.

“Sir,” one of the shinies near him squeaked as he noticed his commanding officer. 

“Easy, vod,” Cody chuckled, waving him off. “Just here to watch.”

“Uh, yessir,” the trooper said awkwardly before turning back to watch the spar.

Cody stalked quietly behind the captive audience that encircled the mat, finding himself to be similarly enraptured with every movement the general made. 

With the chaos of the battlefield and the stress of command, he never had the chance to truly witness the prowess for which his general was known. 

It was certainly something to behold. The way he dodged Boil’s every move reminded him of a dance. The wicked, cocky grin plastered across his face reminded him– 

“Commander!” someone shouted, fortunately before he could finish the thought. 

Waxer rushed to him. “You’re up next, Kote,” he informed him with a wide grin. 

“Not on your life, Wax,” he deadpanned, ignoring the stir of longing in his gut. 

“C’mon, it’ll be’- ooh!”

Waxer’s urging was cut off by the way Kenobi slammed Boil into the mat, quickly wrapping him up in a hold that had Boil tapping out. 

Waxer laughed, running over to help Kenobi pick his brother up from the mat. “You just won me thirty credits, General!”

“Glad to be of service,” Kenobi chuckled, idly wiping some of the sweat from his brow. 

Time seemed to slow, the cheers and laughter from the gathered vode faded out. Right then, for Cody, there was only him and the general in this room. 

Kenobi’s face was flushed from the effort, drops of sweat dotting his skin. He grasped Boil’s forearm with a grin, laughing lightly at something Waxer said. 

He was brought back to the present by a rough hit to his shoulder. 

He scowled at the offender. 

“You should take a holo,” Gregor chuckled. “It’ll last longer.”

Cody smacked his arm. “Kriff off.”

“–suppose, if he’d be interested,” Kenobi said, coming up in front of him. His brow cocked as he eyed Cody with such an interest that he felt the tips of his ears go red. “Would you, my dear Commander?”

Cody blinked at him. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“Well, Boil and Waxer here have me quite convinced I should challenge you next,” Kenobi said with a smirk that made Cody feel like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

“I- I couldn’t, sir,” he said quietly.

“I can’t see why not,” Kenobi chuckled, then leaned in closer to him. Cody prayed to any supposed maker out there that the General couldn’t hear the way Cody’s breath froze along with his heart. “I’m reluctant to think that you’d be scared.”

Boil and Waxer sucked in a breath. Their eyes darted between their COs. 

Cody huffed something like a laugh, already beginning to remove the armor from his arms. “Never, sir,” he smirked.

By the time Cody had shucked the last of the plastoid pieces from him, the General had toweled himself off and was getting a drink.

“Ready, General?” he asked. “To lose that is.”

Kenobi chuckled again. “Losing is no displeasure, my dear,” he grinned. “As long as I’m losing to you.”

If that hadn’t already stopped Cody in his tracks, what Kenobi did next certainly would have. 

Just as Cody turned to face him, General Kenobi was freeing his arms of his tunic, tossing it off to the side in a messy heap.

While Cody was still breathless, Kenobi dropped into a starting stance, his arms held before him at the ready. He smirked and Cody was certain he was about to embarrass himself by going completely lightheaded before their match could even begin.

Taylir gar kovid olar bal jii, Kote, the echo of Alpha-17’s snarl rang through his mind. Ibic linibar gar mirda.

He readied himself, then nodded to Kenobi. 

For a few moments, they only circled one another, both oblivious to the shouts and cheers from the watching crowd of soldiers. Cody would feign an attack, testing Kenobi’s reactions, and Kenobi moved swiftly enough that Cody was sure that he was at least partially relying on his connection to the Force.

“Care to actually make a move, General?” he smirked. 

“Only should you stop teasing me, my dear,” Kenobi chuckled back.

Cody scoffed lightly, then shifted the position of his left arm, giving the General an opening.

The General took the opportunity, jabbing a sharp right hook in his direction, forcing Cody to take a step back, only to find they’d gotten closer to the edge of the mat than he’d thought.

His ankle rolled beneath him–sending a twinge of pain up his leg–but he managed to catch himself just in time to block Kenobi’s incoming hit.

Kenobi smiled as he looked Cody up and down. “Impeccable footwork,” he purred. “You could make an exquisite dancer.”

He nearly froze, if not for the growl of his ori’vod in the back of his mind, but offered his own blows toward his General.

The General parried them somewhat easily, moving back across the mat with the same grace that always somewhat distracted Cody on the battlefield. He wouldn’t let it now.

Cody kept on the offensive, hurling his fists towards Kenobi. 

“Come now, Cody,” he said, slightly breathlessly. “You’re not going easy on me, are you?”

“What would make you think so, sir?” he asked just as he managed to wrap his arm around Kenobi’s neck, spinning and pulling Kenobi’s back tightly against him. “What do you believe I’ve done wrong?” he hummed into the General’s ear.

“No need to pull your punches, Commander,” he told him, his voice dropping dangerously low. “You know I can take more.”

Cody heard his own breath leave in a quiet huff and the next thing he knew he was on his back, his General over top of him. 

Kenobi grinned at Cody’s shock ever so briefly before changing back into that somewhat cocky look of determination. 

“Yield,” he whispered. 

Cody stared at him for a moment, then made a… tactical decision. 

He let his eyes drop to Kenobi’s lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. 

Kenobi gasped softly, his cheeks flushing an even deeper red than they’d been from the exercise. 

That was his opportunity. 

Cody flipped their position, flattening Kenobi’s chest against the mat. He wrapped his arm beneath the General’s with his hand on the back of his neck. His leg wove into Kenobi’s, pinning him firmly down. 

“Ah, alright!” Kenobi muttered, struggling to free himself from the Commander’s grasp. “You got me– I yield,” he said, a bit louder to let their audience–that Cody had all but forgotten about–know the match was over. 

A long beep sounded over the ship’s PA system, signaling the shift change. Cody could hear them leaving, laughing, bickering, and groaning about the coming work. 

Cody rolled off his opponent, pushing himself up to his feet. Kenobi flopped onto his back and Cody got a proper look at him for the first time since their match started. 

He was dewy with sweat, the fringe of auburn hair sticking slightly to his forehead. His face and ears were still tinted pink, though he wasn’t sure of the cause. It seemed the rest of his body was spotted with far more freckles than his face was, which was the realization that forced Cody back to reality. 

“Good effort, General,” he smirked, offering a hand. 

Rex: damn codes

Rex: havent seen you spar like that in a minute

Rex: gregor sent me the holovid

Cody: I can’t say I’m surprised by that. 

Rex: no sound though 

Rex: does kenobi always talk that much??

Rex: my jetiise say he does

Rex: curious about his smack talk

Cody: I’ve updated the spreadsheet. 

Rex: cody you cant be serious

Rex: cody

Cody: Those are all perfectly reasonable suspicions. 

Rex: skywalker talks shit all the time when we spar but not like THAT

Rex: no suspicions explain him talking to you like that

Rex: actually you know what

Rex: there is no heterosexual explanation for this

Cody: Don’t be ridiculous, Rex. You’re supposed to talk me into rationality, not feed into my delusions.

Event: While sparring in the gym, the boys goaded General Kenobi into challenging me. He proceeded to remove his shirt before we began and made comments throughout, including the following (verbatim): “Losing is no displeasure, my dear, as long as I’m losing to you.” “Impeccable footwork. You could make an exquisite dancer.” “No need to pull your punches, Commander. You know I can take more.”

Rational explanation: General Kenobi flirts with all of his opponents.-Distraction technique?-His idea of trash talk?-Is he just like that? On reviewing the described event, Rex has requested I redact the former with the following comment: “There is no heterosexual explanation for this.”

Irrational explanation: General Kenobi meant what he said in exactly the way he said it

Additional notes: Is it actually an irrational explanation to assume he means the things he says?

↫ Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ↬

Thanks for reading! - River

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE Master List DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @nomercyforthewarrior @padawancat97 @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[descenderintofantasy]

What About Bal Is Toxic?

APART FROM the love spell, I'm not seeing any behaviour that could be called toxic. Neither Mal nor Ben do anything against the others consent. Heck, she STOPS him kissing her during, Did I Mention. SO THAT nothing HAPPENS without Ben's full free consent. Ben respects Mal saying 'no'/rejecting his advances twice during the movie. One, even in the midst of the love spell. Absolutely nothing physical happened between them while the other could not fully consent.

And okay, I can see arguments coming about the fight in D2. While I acknowledge that some actions, there, could have been better. Mal immediately takes responsibility for it. She feels so guilty that she leaves. BOTH Mal and Ben were stressed and did something wrong there. Mal should not have tried to use the memory spell. Ben shouldn't have raised his voice at her. Furthermore, every couple will have at least one fight while together. You cannot use that as toxicity when it is a natural happening in relationships.

Even when Ben breaks up with her. Mal doesn't act in any way that could be considered toxic. Mal doesn't scream at Ben Or refuse to accept his apparent wishes. She doesn't try to physically hurt him. Or threaten something Ben cares about to get him to stay with her. She just quietly removes herself.

So please explain to me exactly HOW Bal is toxic once they're in a proper relationship?

(And screaming "But the love spell!" is not an answer and will not be accpted!)

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

So I was rewatching Nimona with my Mama

And I don't know why watching movies with other people always makes my brain focus on the little things but this time around my brain was focused on Ambrosius. Mostly because my Mama was super confused about why they put so much weight on his and Gloreth’s names. After she brought that up I noticed a lot of little things like how the announcers chose to introduce him as “the most anticipated knight of a generation”. Then I remembered the other things like how Bal was described by the Director as “the biggest threat we’ve faced in generations” and how “thankfully we have a descendant of Gloreth to lead us”. After that, we see everyone looking to Ambrosius to fix the situation as soon as possible while knights like Todd consistently undermine him. And the Director is encouraging him to stay strong the second she senses a moment of weakness. And that all results in this 

This poor man has had the weight of the entire kingdom on his shoulders for the whole movie. What's supposed to be an exciting and happy day is overshadowed by the reminder that the entirety of the kingdom expects him to be the best knight simply because he is a direct descendant of Gloreth. He watched as his boyfriend “killed” the Queen and then chopped off his arm out of reflex and was probably under the assumption that he killed him. When he finally does show up again he’s screaming at a kid about “killing everyone” while said kid is calling Amrbosius his “nemesis” and then they go on a rampage and destroy the institute. And after that, he steps up to find Bal because let's face it if Todd was in charge Bal wouldn’t come back alive. No one says things like “Treat Ballister like the Queen killing Monster he is” “I’ll hunt him down. I’ll make him hurt I’ll-” With good intentions at heart, he wasn't gonna say “I’ll throw Bal a tea party” You know it was going to escalate and the next step was pretty obvious.

So he now has the entirety of the institute pressuring him to find Bal and is constantly reminded that the safety of the kingdom rests on him. The next time he sees Bal he’s LITERALLY KIDNAPPING SOMEONE. We have the a little moment when we get to see inside Ambrosius’ head and we can see that everything it taking a toll on him he’s stressed and conflicted and freaking out. And the Director knows this and tells him to “stay strong”. And after that, Bal is confronting him in front of all the knights pulling the rug out from under him and putting even more stress on him. He has two paths he could take and both are uphill battles. He could let Bal and Nimona go free and arrest the director with literally no proof which no one would believe. Or he could arrest Bal and Nimona which is unfortunately the easier path.

Cause think about it there is concrete proof that Bal killed the Queen and he just found out that Nimona is a “monster” something they’ve been trained to fight since they were kids. So he makes the first easy decision since the begging of the movie and decides to arrest Bal. And the thing that rips my heart out and makes me sick to my stomach is his face. This poor baby looks like he is in physical pain. Nothing about this situation is easy nothing about this situation is okay he looks like he’s about to break down and sob during this entire scene. And if you pay close attention his eyes don't stay on Bal. He is scanning the crowd to ensure no one tries to move to hurt Bal when he knows he’s vulnerable. Even though it doesn’t seem like it he’s always looking out of Bal in one way or another.

[vexwerewolf]

The Ayleids were, and I cannot stress this enough, transcendentally fucking stupid

Molag Bal, Daedric Prince of Domination, Enslavement and Defilement, disguised himself as "Mola G'bal" and this fooled an Ayleid city into worshipping him

[cosmictyto]

Suddenly got suckerpunched with a stomach bug so take some “when they’re sick” headcanons:

🗡️🖤 Ballister - “Sick? Oh, no no no, I don’t GET sick…” Is something he usually says while visibly shaking, with a fever, and after nearly hacking out a lung. He’s the kind of guy who just ignores whatever he catches until it takes him out or until Ambrosius starts dragging his ass to bed or to a doctor. Generally, I see him as one of those lucky bastards who doesn’t get sick that often. But when he does it’s usually pretty damn bad. And I 100% see him being the kind of guy during training who stresses himself out whenever exams are coming up. Enough that he usually gets sick somehow because he’s just kneecapping his immune system from said stress.

🦁💛 Ambrosius - He’s the complete opposite of Ballister in this regard. While he’s not sickly per-se, he does get sick way more often. And (though of course Bal would never admit it) he’s a bit of a baby when he does come down with something. He’s taking time off the moment he feels weird, and though he knows he’s gotta stay away from his boyfriend so he doesn’t spread anything, he’s still sending little texts about how he misses him, so on and so forth. And on those rare occasions where they’re both sick? Super cuddly. Even more-so than usual. For this man cuddles are the best medicine… okay, and really spicy soup, but mostly cuddles.

(Bonus HC - Because I’m not 100% on this one and it’s wrapped up in a bunch of other HCs I have - I could also see him maybe being a bit of a hypochondriac mostly due to his family and how they respond to illness and injury. For starters, I definitely see Ambrosius as a “rainbow baby” and on top of that, I can see the Goldenloins being extra protective of their bloodline in general. (Even in spite of throwing their children into knighthood which can be dangerous.) So any time Kid!Ambrosius got sick or hurt, everyone fussed over him more than they really should have. Even for more typical or minor stuff since, if something happened to him, it might mean trouble further down the line for Gloreth’s lineage. Which, kids have a tendency to notice and latch on to these things. They might not get the why, but they definitely feel those emotions.)

🦈💖 Nimona - “I don’t get sick.” Except… she actually doesn’t. Unlike Bal who’s just coping really hard, she genuinely doesn’t come down with human or animal diseases since they can’t live in her magic-based body. Now, if she were to contract something magical, she’s the kind of person who’s fine until things are most definitely not fine. And you can tell because she suddenly gets way more quiet, spacey, and subdued. Mostly because she’s trying to figure out what the hell’s wrong with her, since, ya’know, she legit doesn’t get sick… until she just crashes. And good luck waking her up, because you probably won’t. She’s hibernating until her body works this nonsense out of its system. Which is more than a little concerning for the people around her, since she’s been out for, like, a week straight now- but it’s fine. Because when she wakes up she’ll be SUPER groggy and hangry for about an hour and then she’s back to normal. As if nothing ever even happened.

[williamlandon]

Hi! Do you think you could make a villain au where Ambrosius is a yandere for Ballister and will murder for him? Ps: Your art is amazing!

Hiii! So sorry this took awhile to answer, I’ve been burnout lately and finals just ended, but I instantly fell in love with this idea.

Story wise, I came up with a couple ideas of what the story could be, but it’s totally up for interpretation. ——————————————————————————————————

I imagine that Ambrosius’s life constantly consisted of things he loved being taken away from him due to a strict family, strict rules, tight royal expectations, and just seemed like he had no freedom and zero say in anything he did. He just felt alone for years.

But one day he found young Ballister practicing out in the woods, monologging to himself. After spotting him, Ballister convinced Ambrosius to come and practice with him. Since that day, they had been practicing together in the woods to prepare for the day that Ballister would attempt to tryout to become a royal knight. Though he got away with it for years, Ambrosius was one day caught by the royal gardener who saw him speeding towards the woods. After being told, his parents were furious. He was scolded and punished greatly, except this time, he had enough.

Days before the knight tryouts, Ballister had noticed that Ambrosius wasn’t as bubbly as he usually was.

“They’re dead. Gone.”

In shock, all he could do was comfort Ambrosius and help him get through this massive loss.

Fast forward years later, Ambrosius has gotten some help with ruling the kingdom. Queen Valerin, who was the previous royal ambassador, took the thrown. Despite not being on top, Ambrosius was still thankful for the extra help. But not only was there a new queen, but a new ambassador. The Director.

Now with all of this stress gone from his shoulders, Ambrosius figured he could finally spend some time practicing with his recently asked out but secret bf, Ballister. With more time together, Ambrosius became very attached, especially since his childhood Bal was the only person who really gave their time and attention to him.

The Director noticed this strangely close connection with the two, and with already disliking them both, she disliked them more. But soon, she found out what was really going on between the two. With this increasing hatred for them, especially Ballister due to him being the only non royal blood knight, she came up with an idea to potentially turn them against each other, but little did she know that she was going to awaken a slumbering anger.

Her plan was to convince Ambrosius that Ballister was simply using him to gain status and learn about his weaknesses, until eventually taking his life along with the queen’s to become the new era of royalty. But unlike her wishes, even after framing Bal for the murder of the queen, Ambrosius wasn’t as gullible as she had hoped. With the help of the Squire, he had gained information about the rest of her plans. She had planned to kill Ballister to gain royalty herself.

Furious, Ambrosius heard an angry, yet familiar voice inside of his head.

From then on, anyone who had paid any form of a threat to Ballister, would never see the light of day again. The only one who was able to get away (for now) was the Director, due to the fear of her death being pinned upon Bal. ——————————————————————————————————

soooo yea I skipped sleep for this and I am very tired. But like I said tysm to whoever requested this bc I love this idea. This is definitely my headcannon for this AU, I’m excited to see other stories of this AU. Have a good day! ^^

[zacksfairest]

k'atinii bal k'edeemi // resist and bite

*** an absolutely GIGANTIC thank you to @amikoroyaiart for taking on this commission of my Mando OC Ayala Ger'Mana and my Imperial OC Commodore Corran Raandall a few months back. I remain absolutely in love with it. It is perfect and exactly how I pictured the scene.

I was originally going to wait to post this art when I finally got around to writing the fic that this scene comes from, but life is so incredibly busy and stressful right now. I have no idea when I'll have the time to write it, and I fear that waiting until things calm down might lead to it never being posted.

Bug me about the fic every few weeks or so.

Anyway, please see bonus happy Ayala art also by @amikoroyaiart 💖