#woooo another little drabble!!!!

[ash-isnt-writing]

OKAY IM BACK AND MAYBE TEARS AND OVER FROM THE ASK GAME?? maddie and reverie idea 👀👀 /nf

👀👀👀

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

When Maddie came to pick up Visceral’s for the week for the first time, as agreed for the sake of Vanté’s safety, she regretted not making a compromise.

Seeing this small child, frightened and covered in bruises and cuts and blood and - and so much blood.

God, how could he do this to a child?

“Shhh shh shh, it’s okay, god, I’m so sorry…” Maddie whispered as she held Raverie’s trembling frame close, pressing a kiss to his matted hair. It felt like a knife to the chest every time a particularly violent sob racked the boy’s body.

She hated that she could only do so much to protect him. And she hated that there was nothing she could do to stop Visceral, not without breaking their agreement.

“I’m so sorry, baby..” She whispered into his hair, even as his tears soaked her shirt. This was her worst fear, playing out right in front of her eyes. She felt so helpless. “I’m so so sorry, but there’s nothing I can do…”

“It- it hurts-“ Raverie gasped out, Maddie gently shushing him.

“I know, kiddo, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry” She whispered, her own voice beginning to crack as hot tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t fucking believe this is what it had to come to.

She couldn’t do anything. But she knew someone who could.

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

[pfhwrittes]

Here’s a prompt for ya: Soap takes their partner to the gym at the ass crake of dawn so no one is there. His partner is doing arm curls when Soap tells them to hold that position. When they do Soap slips his shorts down really quick and starts thrusting sloppily into their arms, either the bend of their elbow or the tight space in their pit

awooo wooo woooo! anon, you've got me barking and growling at this one!

cw/tw: readers genitals are referred to as “cunt”, armpit fucking, mentions of somnophilia, muscle fetish, gym wear fetish, sex in a public space (kind of), nicknames (“hen” and “bonnie”), bodily fluids (sweat and cum), dubcon/noncon.

pairing: john “soap” mactavish x AFAB!reader

word count: 912

a/n: a little drabble from johnny’s POV this time. tagged as noncon and dubcon because this is definitely borderline but unfortunately johnny is a mutt and doesn’t particularly care. also, anon i’m so sorry for accidentally forgetting about your prompt. i didn’t mean to, i’m just easily distracted and also got weirdly in my head about this not being good enough??? not entirely sure who put me in charge of my own brain but here we are.

johnny would admit, if you were aware enough to ask, to having an ulterior motive (besides helping you get stronger like you asked) by dragging you down to the gym at 5am.

(although he was sorely tempted to roll you over and slide into your warm, wet cunt when you groaned at him sleepily. he spent a few minutes thinking about how he could get you to make more of those pretty noises before deciding that he could wait for another opportunity as he woke you up by peppering light kisses all over your face.)

for johnny it’s all worth it when he catches a glimpse at you in the mirrors opposite the benches the other gym goers usually use for chest presses. you’re stripped down to your sports bra (he’d been quick to persuade you out of the loose t-shirt you were wearing, claiming that the fabric would impede your range of motion), biting your lip in concentration as you flex your bicep to lift the dumbbell in your grip. 

steamin’ jesus. the sight of you already has him hard enough to hammer nails. 

johnny glances around the empty gym, eyeing the clock above the doors. if he’s quick he should be finished before even the earliest of risers interrupt his plans. with a final casual glance around, johnny steps away from the racks where he’s been perving loitering waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt you. 

aaaand there it is, just as you’re about to put the dumbbell down to switch to your other arm. 

johnny sidles up to you, clicking his tongue in faux-disapproval. 

“c’mon hen, you cannae be done already!”

you huff and blink as a bead of sweat makes its way down from your temple over the curve of your cheek (and johnny beats back the urge to lean down and lick it up). you slowly start to lower the dumbbell, probably to ignore him and well, that won’t do. 

johnny clicks his tongue again and pouts just a little, reaching out to lift your arm into the correct position for his plans with a solid grasp (he tries not to think about the way the muscles in your forearm flex automatically to balance the weight in your hand under his palm).

“theeere we go, bonnie. just hold it right there fer me.” johnny praises distractedly, checking the doorway and the clock a final time. he purposefully keeps his grip on your forearm and pulls his tented shorts down to his mid thigh with his spare hand. his leaking cock slaps against his stomach and he grunts as the sensitive head rubs against cotton, smearing pre-cum messily as it does. 

“wh- johnny! jesus christ, not here!” you hiss out, your head whipping around to check if anyone else is in the gym (there isn’t, johnny had done weeks of recon so that he could time this perfectly thank you very much).

“i’ll be quick, hen. don’t worry.” johnny tells you, already guiding his cock into the tight and warm space of your armpit. he groans loudly, the sound echoing around the empty space, as he revels in the sensation of thrusting in between the side of your sports bra and inner arm. 

you go to pull your now trembling arm out of johnny’s grip and he squeezes your wrist in warning, thrusting a little bit harder when you yelp. christ, you make the sweetest noises for him, you really do. 

“don’t spoil it fer me now, bonnie.” god, his voice is already hoarse - like he’s been fucking you for hours instead of less than a minute. hell’s bells if you ever figured out the power you hold over him he’d be a goner for certain. 

johnny loses himself in the slide against your body, his pre-cum and a hint of your sweat easing the way, as he holds your wrist tightly. he can’t have you pull away even for a second. 

“fuckin’ hell, you just feel so fuckin’ good.” he pants out, “been thinkin’ about this for weeks, ever since you asked me tae help ye find a gym.” 

the dumbbell slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud but johnny doesn’t care, can’t care, as his hips piston back and forth. distantly he hears you whimper over the slick, wet sounds of his cock rutting into your armpit causing him to spit pre-cum messily onto your soft skin and the damp fabric of your sports bra.

“do that again.” he demands, grinding his hips desperately, “c’mon bonnie, i’m so close.” 

“johnny -” 

whatever you’re trying to say gets drowned out by his loud moan as he comes messily. thick, wet ropes cling to your inner arm, the soft skin of your armpit, and drip lazily onto your chest. johnny grinds his softening cock into the mess on your skin, relishing in the last feeble twitch before stepping back and dropping your arm carelessly. 

with trembling fingers johnny pulls his shorts back up over his hips, hissing as the fabric rubs uncomfortably against his sticky and sensitive skin. he flicks his eyes up to the clock above the doors and grins, perfectly timed as always mactavish.

“better clean up hen, it’ll be gettin’ busy now.” 

johnny saunters away from you, whistling lazily, completely uncaring of the disgusted look you shoot at his back. 

(it’s worth it, even when you cancel your gym membership and refuse to wear anything other than long sleeved tops for weeks afterwards.)

[rekas-writes]

Sweet Dreams

Pair: Chamber/ M! Implied Agent! Reader Game: Valorant

Type: Drabble - 519 words Genre: Fluff Perspective: Third-Person (He/Him)

TW: None

A/N: Woooo! We're on a roll! I'll have another req done and dusted soon! For now, here's another piece I converted into an reader-insert! Again, apologies for the short length!

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

In the solace of night, it is still. Near-silent, bar the sounds of quiet nightlife scuttling in the nearby greenery. The sheets had long been mildly stolen after being kicked up in a flurry of movements- all in the effort of getting cosy in bed.

Though the conditions were perfect, Chamber couldn’t help the slight insomnia as he wakes in the middle of the night once more. After being on duty, out in the battlefield, for so long, he can't help the tendency to wake up and make sure his surroundings were safe. That his team wasn't being ambushed. Annoyed, he sighs, eyes slightly blurry with sleep (and the lack of glasses)- before he turns over to face his boyfriend again. Whatever it was his racing thoughts were on about, they immediately silence as he gazes over at a peaceful face, finger brushing against a lock of stray hair. Vincent tucks it back into the rest of his boyfriend’s bangs, but there’s no doubt by the morning that all his effort would be in vain. Still, he enjoys the pretty view.

His lover's face is framed by messy bedhead, his eyes shut peacefully as he snoozes almost perfectly in sync with his own, slightly agitated breath. The weary sentinel snuggles a bit closer to the warmth his boyfriend emanates, causing the man to twitch and pause before crawling back into Vincent's arms on what seemed to be autopilot. He’s sleepily murmuring some kind of nonsense, something from his dream undoubtedly, before grabbing softly at Vincent's night shirt as he plants his forehead against his chest.

Chamber's small smile grows with mirth, heart stuttering and squeezing from how cute that was. Even in his sleep he still sought him out; now that made him feel proud. He could see his love's chest rise and fall in time with his rapidly settling breaths as he quickly falls back into his snoozing rhythm- as though he hadn't moved at all. It’s therapeutic almost, as he feels the stress of being alert melt by just holding his boyfriend in his arms- watching as he breathed in and out calmly.

No danger. No fighting. No dying.

Just them living peacefully, mundanely. Those thoughts repeat, assuring himself that all was well. It was working, judging by how the agent could feel sleep tug at his already half-lidded eyes once more as he watched his other half doze- his breathing mimicking his as he slowly settled down himself.

He brings his boyfriend closer, his hug steady and firm despite his sleepiness as he looks away from his adorable sleeping face to plant a kiss to the crown of his head. There's a slight, soft laugh that follows, somehow reactive even in his deep slumber. Vincent snorts a little at that, before resting and tucking his head on top of his lover's- almost like he wants to curl around him, to protect him from everything bad in the world. The comfort of physically holding each-other, of being away from base, of knowing his beloved is alive and breathing soundly.

That was enough for more sweet dreams to finally trickle back in.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Written in 2012 (2) Masterlist

part one

A Beautiful Someday - shipitlikeitsmyjob

Summary: Dan does not live with Phil, but it feels like he does. Phil’s flat in Manchester is more like a home than anything he’s had before. He loves everything about it, from the soft give of the leather in the couch to the noise of the city from its balcony, but mostly he loves the fact that Phil is in it.

They’re sitting on the aforementioned couch, watching old Doctor Who reruns, poised a scant few inches apart with hands resting near. The inches may as well be miles, though, and the soft black upholstery between them the Atlantic for all the possibility that Dan will cross it. He wants it too much to let himself do it, fingers itching with desire to touch, so he resolutely folds his hand into his lap and absolutely does not notice the way that Phil seems to shrink in on himself a little.

Someday, he thinks, someday I’ll have the courage to touch you.

But Men Can’t Get Pregnant! - philpocalypse-please

Summary: During a night of drinking, Phil gets a bit more than tipsy and is convinced that he's pregnant with Dan's child. Phan fluff. NOT mpreg.

Changes - thelionandthellama

Summary: Dan gets a girlfriend. Things are about to change.

Chocolate - mermaidstailonmyface

Summary: three-way with chocolate sauce.

Chromaticity - shipitlikeitsmyjob

Summary: Phil is color, Phil is contrast, Phil is black on white on blue, and you are monochrome. An overabundance of fucking brown, filling you up so entirely that even your insides feel colorless.

Christening The New Sofa (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Just pure old good fashioned smut, Dan/Phil, don't like, don't read

Close the Damn Cupboards 2 - interrupted-by-fireworks

Summary: Phil and Dan are arguing when the sexual tension gets too much.

Do It Anyway - definitelythor

Summary: Dan and Phil both think staying friends will keep them together, but it actually drives them apart.

Everything In Between (2) (3) - dubblebubblediscoursequeen

Summary: Phil comes home upset after breaking up with his girlfriend for a particularly heartbreaking reason, and Dan turns out to be better at comforting him than either of them expected. But, of course, it doesn't stop there. They have a lengthy conversation about life, love, and well, everything in between.

I Can Live Without You (But Without You I'll Be Miserable At Best) - howellslester

Summary: Phil has his girlfriend over and Dan gets very jealous. He tries to win him over and succeeds

If These Sheets Were The States, And You Were Miles Away - howellslester

Summary: Dan really fucking hates distance.

It Started With a Tag - philpocalypse-please

Summary: Phan fluff. Dan is looking through the Phan tag and Phil notices...

I’ve Missed You - what-a-phantastic-blog

Summary: Smut. GLORIOUS SMUT.

Love Is Easy (2) (3) (4) (5) - philpocalypse-please

Summary: Phan fluff to keep you warm on the cold, winter nights. Dan was convinced that love was difficult and complicated. Phil sets out to show him just how easy it is. A series of short stories of Phil and Dan's relationship progressing.

My Heart is Cold as Ice - definitelythor

Summary: Drabble based on the fact Phil was watching Dan's liveshow. 

Myself to You - threetimesgood

Summary: Basically I just wrote a fuckton of smut.

Pinky Promise - what-a-phantastic-blog

Summary. Woooo Phan fluff

Problems - mermaidstailonmyface

Summary: Prompt: You should write a fuck ton of Phan smut with Phil being the dominant one.�� 

Rules For the Flat (2) (3) (4) - littlelioncats-blog

Save You - howellslester

Summary: Take a breath, I pull myself together

Just another step, until I reach the door

Sexy Bath Time - fuckmelestrade

Summary: Prompt: "So what's it like having me back in the bath?" Phan bath please!

Spaceman - philskoolkatz

Summary: “Evening” Dan responded, flashing an even brighter smile. “You’re stars are looking very pretty”

The Closet of Love - fuckmelestrade

Summary: a story where dan and phil are at a party and dan is the popular kid and his friends force him to kiss phil who is like the loser of the school but then a lot of hot sex happens well that would be nice.

The Dream Book - chocolatesaucelester

Summary: I guess a bit of smut and some bad writing :)

To Write Love On His Arms - thelionandthellama

Summary: He won't leave this night alone and he won't sleep at all and all the sorrow that he takes out on himself, it comes around and leaves him bleeding on the floor.

We’ll Make It Through This Together - interrupted-by-fireworks

Summary: Dan finds Phil passed out on the bathroom floor.

We’ve Only Got All Night 2 3 - mermaidstailonmyface

Summary: It's Phil's birthday and Chris and PJ are insisting that he goes out and has some fun. Unwillingly, Phil accepts, but when he goes... there's a little more than just the surprise of a gay strip club in store for him. 

[ever-is-typing]

OMG YOUR PFP IS AMAZING can I please get a joseph scenario where he underestimates the reader? Like at first they come across as weak/super anxious but when it comes down to the wire they’re an absolute badass?

note: aw thanks anon 😊 (robbie is literally baby I love him sm) in other news YES A JOSEPH REQUEST IVE WANTED TO WRITE FOR HIM SINCE FOREVER ☺ WOOOO- also this is gonna be a drabble just because that's the kind of mood I'm in 😉 warning its fucking horrible (note within the note O/P stands for occupation!)

🤺📷 Joseph (Photographer)📷🤺 with a (secretly badass) reader

Warnings: Joseph is a sadistic dweeb and gets trolled

There you were. Y/N L/N, otherwise known as the O/P. Infamously weak, infamously timid... and really, who could blame you? This death game was stressful enough as is- being the last survivor left never did anything to calm ones nerves.

Two of you were already gone, sent back to the manor over what felt like eons ago... it should have been three, but one somehow managed to slip through the exit gate at the very last moment. Your head was foggy, so remembering when was hard, but it didn't change the fact that it had happened.

Miracle or not, one survivor had escaped so far. Not that that mattered, really... all the survivors just wound back up at the manor in the end.

Really, Oletus Manor's games were hell incarnate. Being forced to play felt like mockery from whatever force kept your soul bound here. You endured endless cycles of death and rebirth, an endless struggle for escape that could never be reached-

And yet, despite all of this, there was no despair.

Could this single escape give you hope that a tie was possible? Your fate in this match was yet to be determined...

At least, that was your perspective on all of this. Or, rather, what the hunter had assumed your perspective was.

To Joseph, all of you survivors were the same. Pathetic, miserable worms writhing beneath his heel- you all screamed the same, you all thought the same, you all played the same.

It was so dreadfully boring... and you, the poor, shivering little O/P, were certainly no exception of this. If anything, your shamelessly anxious sniveling only made him loathe you more.

He approached your incapacitated body from behind, looming over you with an unimpressed sneer. The chase had hardly lasted more than a minute- a pathetic effort on your part. You were so close to the dungeon, too... even now, you were still inching towards it, small hands desperately clawing at the dirt for some sort of escape...

Not that that mattered in the end. No matter how close you had come, this match belonged to Joseph. And he was fully bent on ending it.

He harshly dug his heel into your back. Your yelp of pain sent a shiver of satisfaction through him, yet no feeling of sadistic pleasure could compare to seeing your face twist in pain as you were hoisted onto the balloons.

The way those gashes and cuts adorned your delicate face, the way you were silently seething through this torture... it was absolute perfection.

"You could always surrender, my dear. We both know that you've lost." He taunted, a haunting chuckle rolling off of his cracked grey lips.

"Save yourself the anguish, save me the trouble of tying you down?"

"....."

When you didn't reply right away, Joseph was slightly irked. Peasants were meant to speak when spoken to. How could you insult him like this?

When he stopped to glare pointedly into your eyes, he was taken aback- he expected a very specific expression from the meek little O/P. An expression of panic, fear, shame and pain... one that you were depriving him of.

Instead of the cowardly demeanor he had been hoping to bask in, you met his steely glare with one of your own. There was a bitter fire blazing behind your eyes- a fire of some indescribable determination and spite.

Joseph was entirely baffled. What was the meaning of this? Survivors, they had never glared at him with such a passion, especially not one as weak as you. Had all that you had endured caused this change in attitude to spark?

Or could it be that Y/N's spirit was never extinguished in the first place?

Those questions lingered in the Photographer's mind for a brief moment after your gazes locked. He was still confused... intrigued, even.

But you saw the way his sneer dropped. He wasn't as focused as he once was.

This was your chance.

And by God, Y/N L/N, you were about to take it.

The next moments were a hazy rush for the both of you. Every event played out like still images on a camera reel- a final burst of energy caused Joseph to drop you out if shock, while a well-placed kick to the shin bought you some more time.

You could hear him roar in anger as you dashed away, heaving for breath. Your body was practically dead at this point- begging you to stop, to succumb and let it all be over.

Joseph wanted this to be over too- he no longer brandished his sword as the composed gentleman he was alleged to be. Unmistakable outrage and fury made it's home in his blackened eyes. How dare you try and escape him?! The game was lost! There was no hope. Not for you, not for your team, not for any lowly survivor who dared to challenge him-!

You stood atop the dungeon in silence. Joseph stopped to observe you one last time.

There was a very heavy stillness to the scene- like a moment frozen in time. Both of you glaring at each other, both of you knowing that you would jump down the moment he so much as breathed at you.

Either way, your escape was inevitable.

This silence persisted for another brief moment.

Then you cracked a smile.

"You could always surrender, my dear. We both know that you've lost."

And then, with a polite curtsey, Y/N L/N the O/P obtained a miraculous tie.

Your steely defiance was many things to Joseph. He couldn't even begin to process his feelings as you had made your uncharacteristically daring escape.

He knew that he was angry. Outraged by your mockery and disrespect.

He knew that he was intrigued. This change in demeanor was something unexpected- something different. Was the meekness a front for something else? Had he underestimated Y/N L/N?

But then... then there was a feeling that surprised and confused him even further. Some strange sort of... satisfaction. This was something that only he got to see.

Your fiery glare, your steely determination... that was for his eyes only. He was the only one who got to see that side of you... and there was some sort of twisted beauty in that.

He couldn't wait to see it again.

[dreamsclock]

Prompt 33, Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day? with wilbur and techno or tommy?

ohhh this was an interesting one !! i liked writing this woooo i don’t write enough from wilbur’s pov !!

prompt: “do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?”

characters: wilbur, tommy

warnings: suicide talk, self destructiveness, general mental illness themes, wilbur is NOT in a good place and tommy should not have to deal with this, codependency

[ send me a dream smp ship or characters and/or a prompt from this list, and i’ll write you a drabble! ]

Wilbur’s head is filled with smoke, and he feels like he’s going to suffocate inside it. It’s all rage and betrayal and a pounding pulsing desperation that everything has gone wrong, that he’ll never be able to fix anything, that it’s never going to be okay again.

Instead of screaming like he wants to, he lights another cigarette, takes a drag, and settles back against the cold stone of Pogtopia.

“Wilbur.” Tommy’s voice is, for the first time since his duel with Dream months ago, uncertain, hesitant. “Maybe you should stop smoking so much.”

Wilbur raises an eyebrow, and otherwise doesn’t react. Outwardly, anyway. “What makes you say that, Tommy?” He asks, voice flat.

Tommy lets out a faint scoff, and when Wilbur opens his eyes, his younger brother is finally in his line of sight. He’s sitting in front of him, eyes concerned, face open — for a moment, Wilbur wants to take it from Tommy, take his concern, take his openness, and crush it beneath his fingers. It’s not fair that Tommy gets to remain so optimistic and childish when every bit of that had been knocked out of Wilbur by the election. It’s not fair, and his hands curl into fists at his side.

“You mean, apart from the fact smoking is all bad for your lungs and shit?” Tommy says, and if it hadn’t been for the underlying solemnity in his words, then Wilbur would have laughed, ruffled his brother’s hair, sent him away after reassuring his worries. As it is, he lets his lips curl into what might have once been a warmer smile. It’s more tired on his lips now, cynical.

“I think we have bigger problems than my lungs, Tommy,” he replies candidly, and then can’t help himself when Tommy fixes him with that puppy dog confusion, “do you know how it feels,” he asks, “to wish for death every day?”

Something in Tommy’s expression shatters, tries to solidify itself into something unbroken. Wilbur doesn’t give him the chance to recover, standing up, abruptly sick of his little brother and his heroics and his stupid, stupid optimism that’s going to get him killed someday.

“Until you do, don’t lecture me about fucking smoking, of all things.” He takes another drag, lets the smoke poison his lungs and his mind and his soul, filling them with black. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

And Tommy says nothing, like he always does when Wilbur is genuinely annoyed: he scuffs his shoes on a loose rock in the floor, and when Wilbur turns to face him, he climbs out of Pogtopia and away from Wilbur.

Good. It’s what he wants, anyway.

.....

“I think I know what Alivebur meant, now.”

Ghostbur glances over at Tommy, eyes wide in confusion. “About what?” He asks, curiously. “What did Alivebur say?”

Tommy is staring into the little lava pit they’d found not far from Logstedshire, arms wrapped around himself despite the heavy heat in the room. He looks frail, small in the light and the lava and the world. For a moment, Ghostbur gets the smell of smoke curling in the back of his throat, and the feeling of disappointing a brother.

“Tommy?”

Tommy doesn’t answer him, but turns to face him. His eyes are grey, filled with smoke, like it’s going to suffocate him one day. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, finally. “Let’s go— Let’s go back, Ghostbur.”

He doesn’t call it home, because home is thousands of miles away and personified in a boy with a wide smile and a suit that’s too big for him. Ghostbur eyes his brother worriedly, but says nothing. There’s nothing more to say.

[watermelonsugawara]

I'm sorry if I'm bothering but I loved that Asahi drabble so much I was wondering if maybe I could request 10 with Asahi and a fem!reader? I totally understand if you're not up for it 🥺

im so happy u loved the first one :’))) heres another woooo!

me w every song: I LOVEEEE THIS SONG

bitch I realized they barely fucking speak in these lil drabbles... lol whateverrhrjfhfhd im insecure ab it now

am i projecting my dream of being an art couple w asahi? ya ,,,,,, AND WHAT ABOUT IT

❥ warnings: n/a; its sfw; oh wait like a hint of a timeskip bc of asahi’s career or whatever lol

❥ character: asahi x fem!reader

...

my body by young the giant

my body tells me no, but i wont quit

cus i want more

...

This was probably your favorite way to spend time together. Both of you engulfed in your own personal creations, the room filled with millions of ideas, as well as the chaotic sounds coming from every corner. The subtle whirring of a sewing machine, the sound water splashing on your pottery wheel, and the loud music fills the room. There’s nothing quite like it, feeling a spur of inspiration popping into your brain, you just had to try it out before the fleeting thought became a distant memory.

Asahi lifted his foot from the pedal of his sewing machine and watched as the needle came to a stop. A little snip freed his project from the machine for his careful inspection. His eyes meticulously scanned each hem of the top he was making, before placing it on the vacant space on the table. He looked over to you in the opposite corner of the room, hunched over the potter’s wheel.

It was a pretty messy scene, actually— your hair fell around your face, the tips of some strands fell victim to the clay splatters. Your arms and legs were covered in dried clay, some even ending up on your cheek even though you were trying your best to stay clean. Asahi always laughed at the face you made when you focused on your ceramic work, your eyebrows were slightly furrowed and your lips formed a small pout, sometimes your bottom lip taken in between your teeth. He loved to see the gears moving in your brain, watching your small hands manipulate the clay to your liking. Very few words came from your lips when you were deeply invested in your work. His otherwise chatty girlfriend had all of her attention zeroed in on the clay spinning before her. As someone who is inclined in a different form of art, Asahi couldn’t understand how you did it. He’s mesmerized every time you pull out a new vessel each time, with beautiful glazes coating the surface.

Asahi snapped out of his thought when he felt the warmth of your chest against his back. You buried your face in his shoulders as you snaked your arms across his waist. You leaned over to look at his latest creation, a bright yellow top with a delicate lettuce hem on the bottom. You admired the garment for a moment, but then became a bit confused. His portfolio otherwise consisted of basic menswear, filled with neutral tones on sturdier material. Asahi seemed to have read your thoughts before you could properly form them yourself, letting out a soft laugh before he spoke.

“It’s for you.”

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia drabble

author's note: yall. the LATEST CHAPTER!!!!! OMFG!!!!!! it was soooo fuckin cute dude i wont ever be over it. ok so this is inspired by natsu picturing juvia topless and gray saying "don't imagine it!" or whatever basically we gon have some ~jealous gray~ hehehehehe ok enjoyyyyyyyy<3

*

The guild was finally repaired from the Alvarez war, looking good as new, so Fairy Tail decided to celebrate in natural Fairy Tail fashion, with a party.

Everyone was as rambunctious as ever, drinking, laughing, and making a mess of the place. Basically, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Gray smiled as he saw his guildmates celebrating, just as everything was before the war. It all felt like home once again, and he couldn't be more thankful.

"Take another shot, Juvia!" Gray turned and saw Juvia and a few other girls standing around some shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. Erza was cheering her on.

"I dunno', Erza." Lucy interjected. "Juvia's had a lot already."

"Not enough, I say. Drink!" Erza poured the drink into Juvia's little glass, and the water mage picked it up.

She examined it for a moment, took a breath, and down the hatch the drink went. Juvia grimaced at first and quickly took a sip if her soda as a chaser.

"Atta' girl!" Erza laughed, clearly very drunk herself and followed suit with another shot of her own.

Gray couldn't help but feel a pang of worry. He knew all of the girls were a mess when they drank, and Juvia was no exception. He watched from afar as the girls took some more shots, and after the third, Gray felt himself moving to the table they were stood at. Juvia picked up the glass again, laughing and spilling some of its contents on the way to her mouth, but Gray swiftly took it out of her hand before she could get it in her mouth.

"Eh? Gray-sama?" Juvia hiccuped.

"I think you've all had enough." He shot a look at Erza who seemed to be the one encouraging it the most.

"Oh, you men are such a buzzkill." Erza pouted.

"Yeah, yeah, well I'll be taking this now." Gray reached for the bottle and took it from the table.

"Gray-sama is no fun." Juvia whined.

"You guys drank most of the fun as it is." Gray wiggled the bottle that was only about a fifth full. "So I think you'll be fine." Gray rolled his eyes and walked away with the bottle, handing it back to Mirajane who was behind the bar.

"Confiscating the alcohol already? It's only 10:30." Mira chuckled.

"I guess so." Gray sighed.

"Any reason you're playing the bad guy?" She leaned onto the bar.

"I'm not playing the bad guy. I'm just making sure they don't drown themselves in booze." He looked back at the girls who seemed to forget the tequila ever left, and were dancing and singing their drunk hearts out.

"Hmm and you're just so worried about everyone?" Mira pried.

"Whaddya' mean? Of course I'm worried about all of them." He scoffed.

"Didn't seem that way when you were taking the shot glass specifically out of Juvia's hand." She playfully raised a brow.

Gray rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He turned back to the crowd and took a swig of his beer.

Mira hummed a chuckle. "It's alright to be a little protective, Gray. You guys are a new couple and all. It's only natural."

Gray grunted with a slight rose on his cheeks, and his response was finishing off his beer. Mira took the hint, and realized her job was done, moving onto another spot of the bar.

Eventually, Natsu and Gajeel came up to him and the three started goofing around, so he naturally forgot about having to worry about Juvia.

"Gray-samaaa!" Juvia yelled, her syllables slurring together a bit. Gray's ears perked up. He turned around from the bar and saw Juvia standing on a table across the guild, and she was waving her hat in the air like a flag. He slapped the palm of his hand onto his face, letting out groan.

"What the fuck..." Gray grumbled into his hand, and it was followed by Natsu and Gajeel laughing.

"Gray-sama! Why won't you look at Juvia?!" Her voice squeaked a bit, like she was ready to cry. He tried his best not to watch and save himself the embarrassment. Gray still said nothing but instead shot daggers at Erza and Lucy who were right by her side on the ground, as if he was telling them to get her down, but they were having too good of a time to care.

"Juvia, get down! You're gonna' hurt yourself!" Gray shouted back, finally giving in.

A mischievous smirk curled Juvia's lips. "You're gonna' have to come make me!" She giggled.

Gray's face lit up with red, and he spun back around in his barstool, burying his face in his hand once again. "Can you guys just let me know when it's over." He muttered to Gajeel and Natsu.

"U-uhh--" Gajeel suddenly stammered, still having his eyes on Juvia.

"What?" Gray looked to his side at Gajeel.

"I'm not sure if she's taking no for an answer..." Natsu said, his wide eyes matching Gajeel.

"What are you talking ab-" As Gray spun around once again, he saw Juvia's jacket fall to the ground. The only thing remaining on her torso was her bra.

"If Gray-sama won't pay attention to Juvia, Juvia will just strip until she gets someone's attention!" She said through drunken sobs.

"No fucking way..." Gray said under his breath, his eyes were even wider than the two beside him.

"Still nothing?! Fine!" Juvia yelled, straight to Gray. At this point, almost all the men in the guild were paying close attention. She unbuckled her skirt, and let it drop to the ground. She wobbly stepped out of it, and proudly stood in her matching bra and underwear duo.

All the men were ogling, shouting at her, whistling at her. Gray felt his blood quickly rising, and his fists were clenched by his side.

He noticed Natsu and Gajeel still had their eyes on the scene, clearly in shock. "Cover your eyes, idiots!" Gray punched them both in the heads before finally walking his way towards Juvia.

"Don't stop there, Juvia!" Wakaba was standing next to Macao, right by the table.

"Yeah, come on!" Macao agreed, and the two were practically drooling.

"See that, Gray-sama!" Juvia hiccuped. "Everyone would love to see Juvia's body!" She reached behind her back, seemingly going for her bra clasp, and Gray picked up the pace.

He wasn't quick enough, and Juvia's bra fell to the floor along with the rest of her clothes.

"Woooo!" Macao, Wakaba, and most of the men in the guild all cheered, and their eyes nearly fell out of their heads.

"Both of you old perverts need to get out of my way, and look away before I beat your eyes swollen shut." Gray threatened, plowing in between them.

"Are you finally watching me, Gray-sama?" Juvia giggled.

Gray didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed onto Juvia's wrist, and pulled her swiftly off the table, and he carefully caught her, wrapping his arms around as much surface area as he could so no one could see.

"Aw, she was just having some fun, Gray!" Erza drunkenly laughed. Gray glared at her and focused back on Juvia.

Without thinking, he quickly removed his jacket and wrapped it around Juvia. He grabbed her clothes off the table, and escorted her out as quickly as he could. A lot of the men boo'd him for taking Juvia away, to which Gray froze them all in an ice box without a second thought.

Soon, they finally reached the infirmary of the guild.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Gray finally said, sitting Juvia onto one of the beds.

"Juvia just wanted to get Gray-sama's attention!" Her eyes were watering again.

"So you got butt naked?!" He shouted back.

Juvia pouted. "It worked didn't it?"

"Fuck, Juvia." Gray sighed and went over to a sink, filling a small cup with water. He brought is back to Juvia. "Drink this." She sheepishly took the cup and did as he said.

"You gotta' stop with the whole stripping thing." He finally said.

"But why?! Gray-sama does it too!" The drunk tears were building up once again.

"Ok, and no one cares when I do it! When you do it, it's a whole damn show! No one can keep their fuckin' eyes of ya'!" He angrily thought back to all the men staring at her.

"Juvia is sorry!" She cried out.

Gray didn't feel like dealing with anymore tears. "Listen," he took a step forward. "It's different when it's during a fight, but doing it at the guild, drunk, in front of so many people just causes a lot of problems."

"Like what?" Juvia was still holding on tight to Gray's jacket that she was wrapped in.

"Like- like-" Gray crossed his arms and looked away. "I-I just don't like it when everyone's staring at you." Juvia's face completely lit up.

"I-it's just that--" Gray was blushing fiercely. "That's for me to look at and no one else, alright?" He blurted.

"Oh, Gray-sama!" Juvia shot up from the bed, wrapping her arms around Gray and letting her jacket fall to the floor.

"Gah!" Gray gulped when he felt Juvia's naked chest pressed up against him. "Ok, ok, can you get dressed please!?"

Juvia hummed a giggle and released Gray. She did as he said and began to put her clothes back on. Gray turned around, facing the wall.

"Juvia thought Gray-sama said it was ok if you looked at my body?" She innocently asked. Gray felt his blush intensify when he heard the cuteness in Juvia's voice.

"W-well, I can! It's just too embarrassing right now, and you're really drunk, and I-" Gray's voice almost shook, which was completely unlike him. Juvia stopped him with a kiss on his cheek from behind.

"Gray-sama's such a gentlman." She said, sweetly.

"Whatever, are you dressed yet?" He mumbled.

Juvia walked in front of him, finally clothed once again. "Yup." She nodded.

"Ok, good." Gray followd her out the door.

"No more stripping shows tonight, alright?" Gray said, sternly.

"Yes. Juvia will only strip for battles and for Gray-sama." She surely said.

"W-well that's not-!" Gray paused for a moment when Juvia looked up at him with her big, beautiful, doting eyes. Gray felt his breath catch itself in his throat.

"Yeah." He finally said. "Fine."

The two made their way back to the celebration where both of their clothes remained on their bodies, and no one dared to bring up the situation to Gray.

And he made sure Juvia stayed close to his side, 100% clothed.

[thefaithfulexecutioner]

♤

Send me ♤ and I will write a head canon about our muses relationship.

I see their relationship as starting off as one of mutual respect. Franz isn’t a dick like Archer can be, so he is as respectful towards Lancer as he is to all the other Servants he meets (whatever he might think of them). 

Because Franz doesn’t put on airs or act like a sarcastic dick, I imagine Lancer would likewise respect Franz for his honourable conduct in and outside battle, though he would also likely think Franz a bit of a stiff (no pun intended) for being so dutiful, especially so if his Master does not respond in kind.

However, as time goes on, and providing they live long enough to get to know each other better, I imagine they would become friends - maybe even bros (Loud Bro and Silent-ish Bro). 

Once learning about their respective True Names and identities, I think Lancer would be amused and intrigued by the idea of an executioner manifesting in the Saber Class. I imagine he would be quite impressed by his life story; an ordinary man in an impossible position fighting against enormous odds to regain something precious to him.

Franz would recognise Lancer as his better in combat, even before learning his origin. After learning Lancer’s origin as a warrior demi-god and legends associated with him, Franz would automatically recognise Lancer as his better in general, period. He would be quite in awe of his heroic stories. Lancer would have a tough time convincing Franz to stop calling him ‘sir’, and even harder time convincing him to call him by his first name (as in the drabble).

On the downside, he would find it difficult to respond to gestures of friendliness on Lancer’s part, especially with the circumstances surrounding their existence as Servants. He’s so used to being feared but needed by his superiors that having such a relationship is almost disturbing to him and he doesn’t know how to handle it. Lancer would have to try quite hard to get Franz out of his shell and enjoy himself.

In short, Franz would be like the awkward little brother that constantly worries while Lancer launches himself into hijinks shouting LIVE DANGEROUSLY BRO WOOOO!

[Here we get into depressing headcanon territory]

Lancer is the kind of man Franz wishes he could be, to some extent. Lancer is carefree and his own man, a hero, loved and revered, and has the freedom of spirit and action that Franz had so little of. He both admires and envies him, and wishes above all that they could have had the freedom to be friends in another life instead of enemies in the Grail War. 

The fact that circumstance dictates that one should kill the other is a source of great inner pain and frustration for Franz, though he does his best to try and rationalise it. He curses fate for dangling a friend in front of his face only to take him away - either by making Franz kill Lancer or making Franz watch someone else do it.

Franz couldn’t allow the latter. Once an executioner, always an executioner.