#me: it's a drabble not a full fic

[aromanticbuck]

i’m the same as i was (it’s all okay)

just a little drabble because I’ve desperately needed to get an idea like this out of my system since 9x19 aired, and maybe it will get my writing juices flowing so I can work on a bigger project. an AU of the scene with Jay and Kevin at The Donovan, because I did not give Mouse rich parents to not make jokes about canon plotlines with them. it’s basically just a bunch of dialogue so I can get this thought out, not by any means an actual fic.

title taken from all my love by noah kahan.

“Why are you staring at those people?”

“Hmm...?”

“Jay. There are fifteen other rich couples here. Maybe don’t draw too much attention to us by only fixating on one.”

He blinked and pulled his eyes away from the table at the window, though not for very long, the familiar faces there not sparing him a single glance while he frowned to himself. He hadn’t moved from his spot leaning against the bar since he found it, oddly comfortable despite the fact that the last time he’d been in that building had been almost a decade before, and it had been a very miserable experience. “Right. Sorry. I’m paying attention.”

“I hope so. We’re supposed to be working, here, man.”

“What did I miss? When I was, you know, totally paying attention.”

“The kid’s getting us the security footage so we can bring it back to the district and- You’re still staring.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“You are. That’s super rude, by the way, and you’re probably going to make them angry.”

“Good.”

“You know what? I don’t want to know what you have against all these rich people. I’m going to go back to working. I won’t tattle on you for screwing around.”

“I don’t have anything against all these rich people. Just them.”

“Keep your weird drama to yourself. I don’t need to be dragged into it.”

Jay hummed a non-committal response, his gaze shifting over to the door when the bell rang to signal it opening. The new arrival was another familiar face, another pair of blue eyes that didn’t even look in his direction, too focused on making over to the table by the window. Not that was any of his business.

“I didn’t know Mouse was back in Chicago.”

“You have to know what articles to read.”

“So, when you said Gerwitz, you meant...?”

“Yup. Those ones.”

“Are we going to go say hi?”

“You’re welcome to. It’s probably for the best if I stay over here.”

“Does that have anything to do with why you’ve been staring at their table for the last ten minutes?”

“They hate my guts. The feeling is mutual. It’s old news.”

“Okay, well...” Letting out a slow breath, Kevin’s voice was careful when he spoke again, the topic making it clear exactly why. “We’re looking for someone here that could have been running tech for our guy, right? Someone with those connections and computer know how. I hate to say it, but I think we’re looking at a pretty good lead.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I think you’re right. Just... let me do the talking.” Still frowning, Jay pushed himself away from the bar to stand up straight. It put him in the right position to walk forward, his badge hanging around his neck in full view while he approached the table.

The movement drew three pairs of eyes toward him, and only one of them held any level of recognition, along with a little panic. It made sense, considering the emotions rolling in his stomach, the angry heat that had lived there any time he thought of the people in front of him for so long. Before he even made it close enough to say anything, Mouse was getting up again, trying to put his body between his parents and his friends.

“Jay, don’t-”

“To you, right now, it’s detective. Do you a minute to answer a few questions for us? We’ll try not to take too long.”

"Really? You’re staging this like a case? That doesn’t make it better.”

“We have reason to believe that someone who frequents this establishment is involved in the murder we’re investigating. Specifically, someone with computer skills. You happen to fit that description very well, Mr. Gerwitz. So, can we have a minute to ask you a couple questions before you get back to your afternoon?”

There was a beat of quiet, heavy with a kind of defeat in the air, and he almost got a response before they were interrupted by a voice he’d very nearly managed to forget the sound of.

“Gregory, dear, don’t answer a single one of this officer’s questions until we call the lawyer. What did you say your name was again? I’ll get your superior on the phone while we’re at it.”

Jay bit his tongue to keep from snapping back at her, putting on his usual neutral expression he employed specifically for the interrogation room. “I was barely an officer the last time we were here, Thelma. I made detective years ago. And I thought we established even before then that I’m perfectly capable of looking after your son even when you won’t.”

“Oh. Halstead. It’s you.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the greeting I was anticipating.”

“Okay.” There was no hesitation, this time, a hand grabbing him by the arm to pull him toward the door, and he went without putting up a fight. “Let’s go before you cause a scene.”

“I’m not causing a-”

“You’re either using a fake case to try to cause a scene, or you’re using a real case to try to cause a scene, and I don’t know which is worse.”

“She started it!”

“We can’t have one good meal in this place without any trouble, can we? Seriously, Jay, it’s not funny.”

The sun was bright when they stepped outside, and he frowned while glancing back over his shoulder. The door to the club closed, and they weren’t anywhere private, but it was actually just the two of them in their space for the first time in more than five years.

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

“Great, because I was already running late and getting shit for it. So can I go back to lunch, please, before I actually can’t come back here ever again?”

“That depends. Do you have a minute to answer a couple of questions about the case I’m working?”

“Oh my god...”

“What? Suddenly I’m not allowed to do my job?”

“You just antagonized my mother in public!”

“As opposed to doing it in private? No. We’d have fewer witnesses when I have to defend myself.”

“Yeah, that’s why we came out here before you started throwing punches.”

“I wouldn’t have thrown punches.”

“But you were prepared to. If the situation called for it.”

“Well, sometimes, your mother calls for it.”

“I’m well aware that you aren’t her biggest fan, Jay. I’m not, either, but I’m kind of trying to stay employed, and keep a roof over my head, and right now, that involves putting up with lunch here once a week. Believe me, it’s awful, and I hate it, but at least I can keep the discussion away from my love life when it’s just me on the other side of the table.”

“Right, because it’s somehow my fault that they jumped to conclusions last time.”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it. And we both know you weren’t just doing your job in there.”

“Well, no, I wasn’t just doing my job. Antagonizing your mother added a little fun to the whole murder thing we’re trying to solve. Even you have to admit, the look on her face when she realized it was me was kind of funny.”

“It wasn’t-”

“Not even a little bit? She did the lip thing, right? Like she was trying to hold back a comment about us again. That was pretty funny.”

“Stop it. I can’t laugh right now. I’m mad at you.”

“No, you’re not. I just gave you the perfect opportunity to get out of a shitty lunch with your parents. There really is a case, you know. And I know you had nothing to do with it. But they don’t know that I know that.”

“How does that get me out of lunch?”

“Say you’re coming down to the district so we can hold you while you wait for your lawyer. You did just put your hands on a detective, and my badge was very visible. You can help us solve the case, while you’re at it.”

“...everyone’s going to make fun of me for wearing a suit. I just got out of a meeting like half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, I think Kev was already taking pictures to send back to everyone. It’s too late to be embarrassed.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You can keep complaining in the car. Do you want me to put you in cuffs to play it up?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, detective.”

“Good to see you haven’t changed a bit, Mouse.”

#cpd #one chicago #jay halstead #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #chicago pd #kevin atwater #thelma gerwitz #alex writes things #me: it's a drabble not a full fic #the 'drabble' in question: 1.5k #oops? #anyway i've been thinking about something like this since 9x19 aired so #here is this thrown together nonsense #jay should be allowed to fight thelma

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

#will I turn this into a full fic? #idk don’t tempt me #just trying to get this out of my system so I can work on my other ongoing fics #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #john price #john price x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #cod #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x you #mechanic au #drabble #holly writes #poly 141 x reader #poly 141

[starrystevie]

eddie who's read enough skin mags to know what he thinks he's going to like whenever he can finally find someone to hook up with. who's watched enough badly filmed bdsm flicks from that shady video store behind standard gas on moore street to put a black hanky in his back left pocket. who's looked through enough zines from that queer store he found when he visited chicago and bought as much material as he could fit in his backpack.

steve who's very recently found out that there's extra space in his heart and mind for pretty guys next to pretty girls and has no clue how to find a guy who would be interested back. who's trying to figure out what he would even want to do with a guy in the bedroom so he goes to some shady store on moore that's supposed to have pornos behind a black curtain, solely for research purposes, of course. who's reading queer magazines for the advice columns to learn how to pick up clues when flirting with men only to delve into a world of hankies and safe words.

eddie proudly wearing his black hanky everyday and almost choking on his coca cola when steve says he knows what it is one night at dinner. eddie actually choking on a french fry when steve tells him he goes both ways like bowie or freddie with a shy but somewhat proud grin on his face. eddie grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the diner booth to head back to the trailer when steve suggests they put their burgeoning interests together for a night to see if they like it.

steve liking getting slapped on the thigh in eddie's bed, watching the blood rush to the surface in handprint, something primal liking that it's eddie's. steve really liking eddie pushing him to his knees and hearing his bones hit the hard floor, feeling the carpet burning his skin. steve loathing the way eddie whispers in a broken voice, "sorry, shit" as his big brown eyes fill up with tears when he sees how wrecked steve's pretty skin ends up being and ends up turning away from the sight.

both of them learning together what boundaries they have, moving from friends exploring things that they didn't know they'd ever get to explore, to something more. spending hours, days, weeks holed up in steve's empty house as they find out how many rooms they can push their limits in, laughs and whimpers and skin on skin echoing off the walls. falling in love with bruises and teary eyes and they way they make each other feel but most importantly, falling in love with the other person along the way.

#steddie #steddie headcanon #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #and before you ask yes this is going to be a full one shot from me shut up #my google docs watching me start another wip and crying #if you saw this last night.... no you didn't #steddie fic #steddie drabble

[inhuman-obey-me]

Diavolo with 🕶 and MC please? I excited to see what you’d do with that?

"I saw a little thing I didn’t like you tried to hide." - Diavolo/MC

There is a whistling through the rustle of the tree branches, high-pitched and ringing in your ears like alarm bells.

Just the wind, you try to tell yourself -- but the wind has never sounded so uncannily steady with its song. Nor, usually, do you expect to hear faint words hidden in its screaming -- Die. Die. Die. But that too, surely, is just a trick of your mind?

Well, this is the Devildom, after all. The strange and unexpected are to be expected.

You don't know how to tell your lover, crown prince of this very land, that his realm still unsettles you from time to time. He has always tried his very best to make you comfortable here. He himself is proof that terrors are not always so terrifying. His wings, gilded black and extended so wide that they could have blocked out any sun if one existed here, had terrified you the first time you'd seen them in full. But, so too does the expanse of them feel gentle and loving when he wraps those wings around you, a dark cocoon in which you share your secret passions.

You love him, and you love his realm. Scary though it may be, it's beautiful, too, and you try to focus on that. This world is not so dangerous as your human instincts would have you think.

Still -- did the trees you pass on your way home always look like these?

You realize it for certain when a whisper of the breeze against your face sends a chill shivering through your whole body.

Die. Die. Die!

This is not the way home. And you are not alone here.

"Who's there?" you call out, keeping your voice as steady as you can. You have been warned not to show fear -- demons can sense it, and they love the smell of it upon their prey. "Show yourself."

Die! Die! Die!

The whistling twists into a hideous laughter, and a wavering silhouette begins to coalesce before you, its form shimmering back and forth between handsome man and beautiful woman, though you know this creature is neither.

"Puny human, daring to command me?" Its words crackle like static, caught between channels of fury and delight. "Well, I am right here. But you are the one keeping secrets, lost little lamb."

To your surprise, you recognize this voice. It is one of your classmates at RAD, one that you had always found generally pleasant towards you. "Bealphares? What do you mean?"

"I never minded Lord Diavolo's plans for harmony between the realms. I didn't object to the exchange program, when so many others did. I didn't think humans were so bad. But then, today, I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide," it trills, the end of its tirade whipping back into a shriek. "Did you think a pathetic little human like you has any right to our prince?"

In an instant, the air leaves your lungs as if pulled, your ribs crushing inwards at the sudden emptiness, and you drop to your knees. You try desperately to cast a spell to protect yourself, but your breath is too empty to form the words. Bealphares steps closer, cupping your face in its hands as it leans in close to hiss, "The prince of demons belongs with a demon."

"Stop there, Bealphares."

A great shadow falls over you both, as terrifying as the day you first saw it, and Diavolo's commanding presence swoops neatly down beside you. His golden eyes glow wild with a kind of anger you've rarely ever seen in him, and the air around him grows hot with raw magic.

"Lord Diavolo!" Bealphares releases you at once, scrambling to bow before its prince. You gratefully gasp in the crisp night air as the lesser demon anxiously spits out, "I-I can explain!"

"Very well. Explain." Your beloved's cold expression does not change, glaring down at your attacker. "Explain to me, Bealphares, spirit of air, why I've arrived to find one of our human exchange students on the verge of death at your hands. That's a grave offense, to try to attack one of my guests, here in the realm I rule."

Diavolo's voice rumbles like the deep shaking of a volcano, and his fangs glint dangerously in the moonlight as he speaks. Are they longer than usual? Sharper, too, you think -- though it's hard to tell, as the light distorts around the little embers that begin wisping out with each word.

"I will give you your chance to try to justify yourself. But keep this in mind -- I have the power to tell truth from lies. And if I do not find your answer to my satisfaction, Bealphares, I will carry out your punishment personally."

He takes a heavy step between you and the demon -- protective in one sense, threatening in another. His wings are outstretched so wide that you can hardly even see the other past them, with golden veins weaving glowing energy throughout. Though you cannot see, you hear the wind of the demon's voice faltering in the heat of the air as it whimpers, failing to form words.

"Now, go on then. Explain."

#ohhhh the length of this ran away from me so hard #honestly this idea could probably be expanded into a full piece instead of just a drabble someday but for now i'm ending it here #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #omnb #obey me diavolo #om! diavolo #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo x reader #om! diavolo x mc #om! diavolo x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #drabble #4000 follower celebration #mod chaos in the devildom

[golden-afternoon]

Hi this sucks but idc rn. My entire brain is owned by beloved Kaedehara Kazuha at the moment and I wrote this in a fugue state of oh my god he's coming soon everyone stay calm the banner is coming!! Anyway, enjoy my nonsense and may all you Kazuha wanters be Kazuha havers!!

Warnings - completely unedited brainrot to paper, blood, bloody kisses, what the fuck why are they making out he could die

Knock knock knock.

The soft sound jolts you from your current reading. What? Last you checked you hadn't been expecting any visitors and especially not so late in the evening. Either way, you carefully place the bookmark in the place you had been and set aside the book on the table in favor of heading towards the door.

“One moment!” You call out to whoever was on the other side, undoing the lock before opening the door. “Hello…?”

In the fading purple light of dusk, you freeze in place at the sight of the man at your door. He looks beyond worse for wear with his cherry red eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and his snow white hair loose around his shoulders, looking messy and with more streaks of red than you are used to. His clothes are disheveled and worst of all, the blood on his face running in rivulets down from his nose, mouth and past his hairline. How much of it was his own and how much was from whatever unfortunate soul dared to cross him was unclear, but no matter what it sent alarm bells ringing in your head.

“Kazuha?! What-” You began to speak in worry, hands outstretched to gently reach for him to bring the wounded man inside, but he cuts your words short without a single word of his own.

One step forward and his arms were around you faster than you could process; one hand around your waist to draw you near to him and the other tangled in your hair, cradling the back of your head to keep you in place. Before you knew it, you were tasting iron, the unfamiliar flavor sending a shiver down your spine. Soft lips press to yours in a gentle, yet fervent manner, his whole body seeming to sink against you as he does, leaving you reeling and trying to stabilize you both as his fingers curl tighter into you, clinging to you like you would disappear. You had half a mind to protest, both from his clearly injured state taking priority and from the unfamiliar taste of blood seeping into your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. With a sigh, you gave in, kissing back in equal measure, your arms wrapping more gently around him than his hold on you was as you were unsure where and how severely hurt he was. The last thing you'd want would be to make it worse.

As he felt your arms wrap around him, his lips curled up into a smile against your own mouth, the simple action seeming to spur him on. He took another step forward, the action forcing you to stumble back a little. He kept going, silently goading you further into your home without ever once letting up on the intensity of the kiss, even managing to close the door behind you before bringing his hand right back to your waist in an instant.

Your head is spinning, heart racing, struggling to process it all when he deepens the kiss further, sliding his tongue along yours with practiced ease that makes your heart ache with want. Iron spreads across your tongue and for a moment it scares you, but the soft groan he makes as your taste floods his senses is enough to silence any such feelings. And if you were honest with yourself, something about his blood in your mouth was unlocking something deep within you to be dealt with later.

Ever so slowly, and far too soon, Kazuha began to pull away, his tired eyes opening to gaze at you with a small smile, his lips now smeared red as though it were merely red lipstick smudging from the heated kiss. Even in his messy state he looked absolutely ethereal, leaving you unable to tear your eyes away.

His one hand slides from your hair to gently cradle your face in his palm, his gaze slowly lowering to your own lips. In silence, he brushes his thumb along your bottom lip, gently pulling at the soft flesh with interest. You can feel your cheeks burn more as you realize after all that, you were likely covered in it too. As he always does, he notices your unspoken realization and he laughs softly, the sound coming out even more quietly than usual as he lifts his gaze to meet yours once more.

“Come now, don't be shy,” He murmurs, and you can hear the slight rasp in his voice. The wandering samurai pauses to lean close to press a quick, tender little kiss to your stained lips once more, pulling away with the softest of smiles. “I hope you don't mind my sudden appearance like this. It's just that… after storms and trials, I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather come home to.”

#sunny brainrots #a little bit of sugar #genshin posting #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #if i disappear from the face of the earth its because he didn't come home and i am in Misery #kazuha let me rizz you up so you come home PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE #i had another one i was working on before this attacked me but i wont be able to finish it before the banner comes #because yet again sunny learns she struggles to just write drabbles instead of full blown fics lmaoo #come home kazuha #pls babygirl

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

#asks #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #yelan #furina #ei #THIS DIDNT SHOW UP IN MY INBOX UNTIL LIKE #NOVEMBERBIM SORRY IM ANSERRING IT SO LATE?????? #tumblr working right is a miracle that will never happen #anyway can u tell i have. biases. there r so many characters I wanted to write for this (shenhe.........) but I forced myself to limit it #to 4 for my own sanity and everyones elses #also didnt know if u wanted just yan or sagau so I went for my specialty 🧍‍♂️ #was gonna include my beloved cryo archon but decided against it #ei the pathetic lesbian that u r....mwah #I'm sorry this took so long it took me 50 yrs to figure out yelan.. 😭 #i am still not confident abt my characterization of her but shes so good at her job even im confused abt her #reading her lore crying and sobbing in the corner. shaking her like a can of soda #checks note idk uhh cocky doesnt let herself form personal relationships charismatic uhhhhhhhh #idk dont ask me i just started praying and hoping for the best here #i think she'd get a kick out of getting reader into like. fudging rolls and shit. create an absolute menace out of reader #set them loose and see what chaos happens #just kicks back and watches it all unfold internally laughing her ass off #i didnt know whether to just do headcanons in uh. bulleted list or like #full on drabbles

[jadewritesficshere]

Okay, but imagine Robin who hangs out at the diner on weekends because the senior citizens go there and are fun to hang out with. She knows all the ins and outs of who is who in Hawkins thanks to Janice. Gladys has shown her how to knit, which the first thing she made was a very off-putting and weirdly shaped sweater she gave to Steve (Steve absolutely wore it even if it is not correct. Anytime anyone mentions it he just goes "its called fashion"). Charles has lamented about how the outfits the kids wear and their attitudes ("All these bright colors and for what? To be a dick? Might as well have put a big flashing sign that says "I'm a prick"").

One day, there is a new guy at the diner. Robin doesn't catch his name but he seems nice (and younger then the majority of the crowd). Robin is telling them about Steve's failed attempts at flirting, when the new guy chuckles and cuts her off mid sentence. "Almost as bad as my kid...God love him," He smiles and looks at the ceiling before taking a sip of coffee. Robin would feel frazzled getting interrupted if the guy didn't go on to tell the most hilarious story she ever heard. The poor kid was apparently so flustered trying to flirt he had actually tripped and spilled his drink on himself; somehow, the story ended with the kid looking like a sewer rat with twigs in his hair and a bloody nose, but an award winning smile cause he got a number.

Robin immediately wants to meet the kid who is "around your age". He seems sweet and funny, at least this man is so surely the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Janice is the one to suggest Robin meets the nephew and brings Steve along ("That poor boy needs more friends his age, always cartin' those kids around" "If he ever wants an older friend you tell him to-""Rhonda! He could be your grandchild!""I have eyes Janice, just because I'm old doesn't mean I can't see""You're legally blind."). Robin earnestly agrees. As they leave, Robin makes plans with the man, making sure the others can't hear so they don't show up. Robin makes plans for Tuesday at 4.

Except on Tuesday she gets sick. She's laying on the couch pathetically, lamenting about how she never gets sick. Steve is like "oh nooooo guess we have to cancel" with a shrug, cause he could not care less (he had wanted to spend a relaxing night off). Robin convinces him to go. Cue Steve meeting Eddie at a diner, essentially a blind date. Steve shows back up at the apartment him and Robin share and is smitten. Starts telling Robin all about the date not date. Eddie goes home to Wayne, gives him a grumpy look (he didn't want to go out to some "stupid" hangout), then goes to his room. Wayne could hear his squeal of delight and then hear Eddie talking to himself about the prettiest guy he's seen. Wayne just sips his coffee and goes back to reading the paper.

#Are you telling me this isn't an amazing idea??? #Someone with better writing skills make this a full fic and tag me #If yall can't tell i only have enough gumption for oneshots and drabbles #All the senior citizens want to know how it went and Robin just goes I didnt go and then gets chewed out for an hour before she can clarify #Platonic Stobin #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Stranger Things #Jade is Talking

[rodolfoparras]

I needed to share this thought/drabble??? about Price I just had. I just need him so much. (If this makes you uncomfortable I am so sorry!! And this is very much not a request!! More so me sharing my very nsfw thoughts about Price!! <33)

But old man Price right, he’s heard of your escapades. What you’re like in bed from soldiers who are a little loose lipped about their times with you. Knows how you like to top, and how you like to make sure your partners get their backs blown out and orgasm at least three times (if not more if they can handle it)

But he’s never bottomed, and is wondering what it feels like. While he’s not inexperienced with the process, he’s just never done it to himself. And he’s so curious and wants you so bad, but it’s not like he can come up to you and just ask! So with a bright red face, he goes online and orders a package.

When the package arrives, he’s all nervous and flustered. But he’s determined to know how it feels, and knows it’ll feel good. So he hops in the shower, cleans himself good, and dries himself off. Then there, on his bed, is his package with a dildo about your rumored size and a big thing of lube.

Then there he is, Old man Price riding it slowly, cheeks flushed and a small look of disbelief over how good it feels. Biting his bottom lip as small whines and whimpers build in his throat. Arms and chest resting against the headboard for balance, and him shuddering as he slowly moves up and down. Still getting used to the feeling RAHHHHHH

Again if this made you uncomfortable I am so sorry!! I apologize ten fold if it did!! Just let me know and I’ll apologize and never do it again!!

🐻‍❄️-

Polar bear anon if I could I would literally give you the world thank you so much for this thought

Bc hear me out sugar

Old man Price who’s only ever been a top because his partners have always preferred his size. He knew he was big, made his partners feel like they were being split open on his dick, and don’t get it wrong he loved making them feel that way but many times he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like taking a cock his size, always found himself carefully gauging his partners reaction wondering about the delicious burn they’d feel, watching the way their holes eagerly sucked him in, many time he wonder if he’d be just as eager if that were him, many times he’d finger himself to the thought of taking a dick the same size as his maybe even bigger, if he were lucky

Old man price having his room next to yours so he can obviously hear when you got someone there for the night, many times he can’t help but touch himself to the noises because at the end of the day he was a sad old man and this is the best he could get,cumming all over his fist and stomach pretending it was you fucking him into the mattress and immediately feeling guilty afterwards because it’s so wrong but he can’t get himself to stop.

Price knew it was fucked up getting a toy that’s rumored to be your size, , and for a while he keeps the toy in his closet unable to stomach the guilt eating at him but one night he hears you and whoever you brought for the night getting it on and he’s just laying there eyes squeezed shut cock hard and leaking between his thighs and he’s just thinking don’t do it John don’t do it John it’s wrong but he quickly finds himself falling back into the same old routine, reaching over his night stand where he keeps the lube bottle, swiftly pouring it onto his fingers before pushing two digits past his puckered rim

However this time around he can’t get himself to cum maybe because he knows that his fingers are nothing compared to your cock or maybe because he knows he’s got the toy bearing your size stashed deep in his closet,

he can’t even find it in himself to care as he walks over to get it, before quickly getting back in bed, pouring lube over the plastic before nudging the tip against his rim

and fuck it hurts, he didn’t even give himself time to prepare himself properly, too eager to just feel the thing inside him, whines and whimpers escaping his lips as he continues to take inch by inch, he doesn’t notice that the sounds from the other room have quieted down

But he cant even focus on anything else except for the fact that he’s starting to feel something, a lick of pleasure, a small jolt coursing through his body, but it’s not enough, nothing like he imagined,the toy is clumsy and barely hits his prostate and he almost sobs in frustration, fat tears trickling down his cheeks, fisting the sheets and wishing you’d been there to fuck him.

#I had sexy writers block and this kicked me to write something pls send more price thoughts 🫶🏻 #call of duty #john price #I cant promise any full fics or properly drabbles but at least I’m forcing my brain to work #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #dom male reader #sub male character #bottom male character #🐻‍❄️ anon

[daytaker]

Congrats on 250 followers! ^_^ Could you do the 'only one bed' trope with Lucifer?

At long last, I come bearing a drabble. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

The Puppetmaster

Ship: Lucifer/Reader Genre: Humor and fluff Word Count: 825 CW: Dubcon but it's cuddling? Also (joking) mentions of peeing as a kink. I'm sorry I'm like this.

[Part of my 250 Followers Mini Event!]

You were suspicious from the start, because it wasn’t like Lucifer not to plan ahead.

Now, you’re not even suspicious. There was no way that Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, would be spooning you if he didn’t absolutely intend to. His brothers? You could buy any of them claiming they just grabbed onto you in their sleep, or at least accept the room for reasonable doubt. But Lucifer? Never. Not in a thousand years. This was intentional. This was premeditated. This was planned.

You should have known this was going to happen.

You did know, actually. You would have been fully prepared if not for the mind tricks of Lucifer, the all-seeing Puppetmaster.

“Unfortunately, it seems like our accommodations tonight will be lacking in one respect.” Lucifer nodded apologetically to you as you made your way to the hotel room you’d be cooped up in until morning. He unlocked the door, and the moment you stepped inside, you saw the problem: the single queen-size bed, and nary so much as a sofa to serve as a substitute.

“It’s…fine,” you’d said, trying to brush it off as insignificant, even as your instincts began whispering to you that something was amiss. “It’s just for one night, and I trust you not to pull anything weird.”

Lucifer smiled at you when you said that. Not a kind, appreciative smile. No, it was the smile of the wise man humoring the fool. It made you uneasy.

“...Lucifer,” you said in a warning tone you normally reserved for Mammon.

“Hm? What is it?” He was taking his pajamas out of his suitcase, and his voice and expression were so nonchalant—dull, even—that you started to second guess yourself on that look you thought he gave you.

“Uh… I was just going to ask to use the bathroom before you step in to change,” you said, thinking to yourself what a nice save that was. Lucifer bowed his head and politely gestured for you to proceed.

…Oh, he would gaslight you into thinking you hadn’t seen anything, all to serve his twisted, demonic ends of cuddling you when you least expected it, at a time when you’d wake up, dazed and with a full bladder and no escape in sight. In fact, he probably made that initial, wolfish expression for the exact purpose of then playing innocent so convincingly that you’d stop suspecting him. He was just playing mind games with you at this point. He was toying with you.

As the two of you climbed into bed for the night, you each kept respectfully to your own sides. After a brief and awkward goodnight, he turned off the light, and you laid awake and stared at the ceiling.

Why…was there just one bed?

The question wouldn’t stop nagging at you.

Lucifer didn’t book this room in advance. The circumstances that led you here were unexpected delays that meant you couldn’t make it home at a reasonable hour. But… But…

Would Lucifer allow this to happen if he didn’t want it to? No! Absolutely not! Lucifer normally would have taken the chance of delays into account in his travel plans. He would have been prepared for this eventuality.

More than that though. In what sane world would Lucifer allow himself to be subjected to the humiliation of sharing a bed with you for any reason that didn’t include his deliberate, conscious choice? In which case, what was he pulling right now? You didn’t really think he was going to attempt anything truly nefarious, but your unease didn’t go away.

Nor should it have.

It’s about five o’clock in the morning, you need to pee, and you’re being prevented from making a smooth escape to the bathroom by Pride himself. The Machiavellian bastard. The way he played you like a fiddle. 

Maybe you should just let it out. Maybe that would teach him. 

But what if he knows about that too? What if this is all playing into his hand? He’s not into that, is he? What if he is? What if this entire scenario was orchestrated carefully from the beginning to get you to this point, where you’re trapped in his arms and feeling spiteful enough to wet the bed?

You feel a huff of breath behind your ear, then you hear the low pitched grunt of a baritone-voiced demon waking up.

“Lucifer!” you hiss.

“Mm?” He releases you, stretching his arms over his head calmly. “Good morning. Did you rest well?”

“Why were you hugging me?” You shoot an accusatory glare at him. You know about the piss kink. You have your ammunition locked and loaded.

“Because you’re lovely and warm, and I enjoyed the proximity. I hope I didn’t offend you.” He meets your gaze with an expression of such good-natured and genuine affection that your heart almost comes unmoored.

It’s a masterstroke. You have been defeated. Red-faced and groaning, you slip out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom.

#writing event #i have almost 500 followers now and i still have another one to do for the full five count of drabbles #boy i suck #obey me #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #daytaker fanfic

[shmothman]

hands (put your empty hands in mine)

vash x reader drabble (rated g, 550 words)

Scarred from wrist to fingertip—just like the rest of him—Vash’s hands are never anything but gentle and careful when they wrap around yours. All of him is careful with you, often borderline treating you as if you’re fragile, but can you blame him when human life so often is? It’s only out of love for you; out of fear that you’ll be ripped away from him. Still, he can’t bear to hold on too tight. The guilt (of putting you in danger just by keeping you close) is something he’ll never fully be able to escape, but it’s something you can help lessen, with patience and love and the constant reminder that he is deserving.

At first, even just holding your hand is nearly enough to make him cry. He’s denied himself a great many things over the past hundred and thirty years—affection chief among them—and accepting it now is difficult, even when it’s something he wants more than anything else. Give him some time to get used to it; he’ll be seeking it out constantly before long. Your hand in his becomes an anchor, a comfort, a reminder that you’re here and you’re real and he isn’t alone anymore. You’re nothing short of a miracle, to him.

Though, of course, he gets nervous, especially in the beginning—his hand sweaty and trembling as he gives you a wobbly grin; he might even give you his prosthetic hand to hold (although any other time he favors the other) to keep you from seeing just how nervous he is. Not that you can’t tell. You know him too well for that. He’ll be even more awestruck when you take his right hand anyway, interlacing your fingers with his and giving him a squeeze of reassurance. You don’t mind if his palm is a little bit sweaty. Yours is too.

Not to say that you shy away from his left hand: though the metal gets far too hot to hold beneath the desert suns, it cools in the evening like everything else, and you can sit with him, tracing the nicks and scuffs of it. He doesn’t have much feeling in it, but watching you draw mindless patterns against it makes his heart sing. Still, the fact that it’s a weapon makes him hesitant to touch you with it; he wishes he could keep that part of himself away from you entirely. You coax him out of that melancholy every time, though—especially when you take it and press it to your cheek, swearing the coolness of it feels like heaven.

One surefire way to get him to melt is to brush your lips over his knuckles, or even better, press a kiss to his open palm when he goes to cup your cheek. He’s always red-faced around you, but when you give him such open adoration, your lips against the calluses he’s acquired in all his years as a gunslinger, he lights up like a roman candle, pink to the tips of his ears. (And if you compliment his hands? If you tell him how safe and loved they make you feel? How you love that he chooses to use them for good? For love and peace? Vash has long since decided that he’s yours forever, but this only cements that fact tenfold.)

#i just... wanted to write about his hands #consider this a tideover since this fic is taking so long #in my defense it's gonna be at LEAST 8k. and its a oneshot. #self indulgent on main #not that everything i write isn't self indulgent #i just love him so much. i want to give him all the love. #forgive me for rachel platten song lyric title in 2023 but it just fits him so well #thinking about just doing a drabble series based on the full lyrics tbh #sef writes #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun #tristamp #x reader #fanfic

[crybaby-bkg]

tw: mention of incest role play, mention of fear kink, mention of cum inflation????, scummy gojo, also I have no idea how to word this????

gojo who gets paired up with you for a college project, and you’re fucking reeling for a few reasons. one being; he’s extremely attractive and damn near everyone on campus knows who he is. and also, you’re intimidated by his beauty and popularity, especially since you’re only known for giving out the answers when people ask nice enough in classes.

but he’s so…friendly, when you guys meet up to start on the project. he’s all smiles and helpful answers, bites at the people who come up to him and pretend you’re not even there. he listens to you with this dumb (cute) little look on his face, with his lips slightly parted and his brows raised and his white lashes peeking over the roundness of his glasses whenever he nods.

he’s kinder than you expected him to be. funnier, too, with his shitty jokes that you find yourself snorting at in the quiet library. and when you guys are finished with the project, he still keeps in touch. moves his seat to be next to you in class, texts you and asks you out to coffee, even invites you on a date after a few weeks.

and everything is perfect—until it’s not. until he beds you one day and it’s not as special or magical as you were anticipating it to be. he’s kinda…strange, in a sense, when he fucks you. oddly quiet, like he’s holding back, his hands just a little too tight, his eyes too focused on random parts of your body.

but you sleep with him again and again, until he starts becoming real comfortable with you. almost too comfortable, let’s how weird and strange and almost scummy he really is start to shine through, let the mask he’d be unknowingly wearing this entire time slip away.

“What if we were siblings?” Gojo asks you one night when he’s fucking your brains out. he’s gotten better over these few months, gotten looser and more comfortable. too fucking comfortable.

“Satoru, what in the ever loving fuck are you on about?” you ask him in a gasp as you reach a hand back to keep your head from hitting the headboard. but he’s undeterred, his eyes wild and unseeing as he grips your hips tighter, thrusts becoming sloppier.

“No, I mean in a role play way.” He explains, as if that makes it sound any better. “You know? You’re my sweet lil sister taking big bro’s cock so I won’t tell mom and dad about you sneaking out.”

“You’re a sick fuck.” you tell him plainly, frustrated that your tone doesn’t carry the same bite because his nimble fingers started playing with you at the same time. “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

“Incest role play doesn’t turn you on?” he asks, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy that you wanna kick in the chin. “Maybe, hmm,”

he pretends to be lost in thought, thrusts slowing down and you let out an irritated huff as you slump back onto the bed. but your back arches up when his hips pick up pace again, suddenly slamming into you as he looms over you. one hand cupping your cheek, the other returning in between your thighs as he grins madly.

“Maybe you’d like some fear play, yeah? How’s that sound?” Gojo bends over you until his nose skims yours, his pupils entirely too tiny, makes your breath hitch in your throat. “Me, chasing you around the campus with a big knife, scared that I’ll catch you. You know I would, right?”

he forces you to nod with his big hand cupping your cheeks, pouting your lips at him as you whimper. he kisses you, breathless, chuckling a little under his breath as he mutters something incomprehensible, his cock carving its way deep inside you.

“Maybe even cum inflation? That one’s not the realest thing out here, but I could figure out a way to make that work. You’d like that, right?” he sounds like he’s off the deep end, like every single twisted thought that’s been running through his mind these past few weeks have finally come to the forefront. started spilling out between you two like a cracked dam, like he’s been bottling this up ever since you met him.

you cum only a few seconds after his last inquiry, scared of the way his smile widens, as if your body told him an answer he’s already known.

#sorry. for this. #idk how to explain it #but I thought about this the other morning and was like #wow. I think he’d have some very different knks than you’d expect from him #but he makes them hot every time for some reason #the other knk was free use but I didn’t know how to work it in lol #I hate when I have these short drabbles written and my mind is in #is immediately* trying to convince me that I should make it a full fic #I already have like 15 on my list and it’s stressing me OUTTT #rambling sorry #—new treat in the streets! 🍫 #also why haven’t my tags returned like they still don’t pop up when I type them ☹️ #gojo treats! 🍬 #tw: incest #tw: fear

[wrencatte]

mini-fic 3! Cere POV. linguist!Cal, Mantis Crew as Family, Merrin & Cal bonding 1.2k words

“This one?”

Cal squints at it for half a second, says “yes,” then looks back down.

“What about this one?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even look!”

“Greez, that’s the third time you’ve shown me that one.”

“No, it – oh, wait, haha, yeah it is. Okay. Let me see….”

Cere watches in fond amusement as Greez goes back to the shelves. Merrin comes over with a tome from deeper within the city library and angles it in a way Cal can look at it without straining his neck. His expression brightens and he takes it, running his fingers over the edges and corners.

There’s a slight twist in the Force that Cere’s beginning to learn means he found an echo. She has to focus pretty hard to feel it so she only pays it enough attention to be sure Cal’s not about to fall into anything nasty – not that she can do anything about it if he does, but she likes to be prepared – and tunes back into the softly murmured conversation between Merrin and Cal.

The Nightsister looks absolutely delighted at having found something in a language Cal doesn’t recognize, all quiet pride and subtle preening. Cere hides a smile behind her hand. Adorable. Cal flips the tome open and the two of them duck heads, Cal underlining a few words with his finger and saying something that Merrin repeats. He shakes his head and says it again. Her face twists in thought as she sounds it out before giving it voice and he nods rapidly, grinning. She smiles back, one of those small soft ones that pops up whenever it’s just her and Cal.

Cere is just about to go back to her own readings when Greez arrives, BD-1 whirling on his shoulder, a book held over his head in triumph.

“Ha! Try this on for size!”

Cal takes the book carefully. “I know this one,” he tells Greez, who groans in disappointment. “But, oh wow.” He flips through a few pages, lips moving as he reads the text silently to himself. “I can’t believe they have a book written in pre-Reformation Gwyrdd’tafodi. Do you know how rare that is? When they switched over, they deliberately destroyed all they could! An archivist hid this away for a hundred years in order to get it safely off the planet. It kept getting passed down the family line until one of them got passage on a ship.”

Greez crosses one set of arms, his free hands on his hips. He watches Cal fondly as the young Jedi’s excitement grows with every page flip. “You know, I would’ve never pegged you as such a gigantic nerd.”

“Jedi were scholars and peacekeepers before they were soldiers,” Cere says quietly. A hush falls on the group. Cal ducks down, shoulders hunching, eyes kept resolutely on the page though it’s obvious he’s not reading a single word. She smiles and adds lightly, “We’re all nerds.”

Cal laughs first, tinged with grief and legitimate delight. He tucks the book Greez brought under the one Merrin showed him, which makes Merrin throw Greez a smirk and for the latero to throw his crossed arms up in the air in a huff. Cere rolls her eyes fondly and catches Cal’s gaze. He grins, unrepentant, enjoying whatever contest is going on between their friends. It gets Cal more books without him getting up, so he’s not going to stop them.

Greez’s frustration is amusing to watch, especially when he snatches BD from scanning the book Cal has open so he can co-opt the droid’s database to help find a language Cal doesn’t know. It’s not helping. BD-1’s database might be filled with years and years of history and culture but knowing the intimate details of a language instead of just a simple dictionary is completely different.

Merrin listens to Cal read out loud for a few minutes, humming at all the right moments, but obviously thinking hard about something. Cere gives up on reading her book and focuses on the two of them, curious as to what’s going to happen next.

“How many languages do you know?”

Cal’s teeth click he stops talking so fast. “I don’t know,” he admits with a shrug. “Sometimes I don’t even realize I know a language until I see or hear it again. Sometimes not even then! It doesn’t always register it as a different language. It’s just…words I understand.”

She tilts her head, expression intense. “Could you learn Dathomiri?”

He grins and quips something in the smokey, gritty sounding language of Dathomir. Merrin’s eyes widen, and then, suddenly, they glimmer with a wetness both Cere and Cal pretend they don’t see.

Knuckles pressed to her lips, she breathes a very quiet, “oh,” before clearing her throat and adding roughly, “Your accent is terrible.”

“Is it though?” Cal asks smugly.

Merrin scowls. “I will teach you more…if you want to learn.”

Cal’s expression softens. “I would love to. Thank you for sharing it with me.” He adds something in Dathomiri at the end that has Merrin abruptly turning back to their shared book, expression pained and grieving.

Cere nudges the Nightsister with a tendril of the Force and gets a small smile in response. They don’t share the same bond as Jedi do, but theirs is enough for Cere to believe her. She settles back in her chair, musing on what her life has become, sharing a bond with a Nightsister, before she shrugs it off and fully intends on finally going back to her reading with Merrin and Cal’s back-and-forth as a background noise.

Except Greez comes back again, the book he carries is much thinner than any of the ones stacked around Cal like a barrier. BD-1 clicks excitedly and Greez is grinning smugly as he waves the book in the air.

“Did you know this place has an unknown language section? Guess who found it!” he all but brags. Merrin frowns, nose wrinkling while Cal laughs brightly and holds out a hand for the book.

Greez slaps it in his hand, earning a scandalized look from one of the librarians. Merrin and Cere laugh as he hunches down with quick apologies. Cal inspects the book carefully. If there are any echoes, they’re soft and quick. He grins.

“Congratulations, Greez, I don’t know this one.”

The latero cheers silently, all four arms thrown up in victory.

Merrin rolls her eyes. “You still lost. I found one first.”

Cal hums. “Best two out of three? This place is open for another five hours.”

The two of them exchange looks for a full second before Merrin jumps out of her chair and rushes into the depths of the library. Greez yelps and follows her as fast as he can without running. Cere hides her face, as though that will keep people from realizing they’re with her. Cal laughs, covering his mouth with his book. His eyes peek over, glittering in mirth. He pulls the book away, and holds it to his cheek, leaning in like he has a secret. Cere can’t help but lean in to hear it.

“I already know the language,” he admits.

Cere blinks at him then laughs loudly – nearly getting them kicked out of the library.

#cal kestis #cere junda #nightsister merrin #greez dritus #sw jfo #jfo fic #mantis crew #my writing #there's an alt version of this that's more bittersweet and 200 words more #it brings in the Order of the Dai Bendu and the Dai Bendu language #I just couldn't decide which version I liked more and went with the funny one instead #if anyone wants me to post the other version lemme know #that's if someone reads this far into the tags lol #i need to figure out how to get these onto ao3 #i don't want individual stories but i haven't posted a drabble/ficlet fic in a long long time #and even then the last one i did were full 5k+ oneshot chapters #oh well #imma stop talking now

[iwaasfairy]

so we all wanna see more uncle gojo huh

#might mess around and drabble him until I can write another full fic #I keep promising fics w good intentions pHFJFJFJ sadly I only have two hands to write and a single brain #fucKK #im thinking of him tho I AM I AMMMM #the poll just convinced me on doing a kinda sequel #I wanna #maybe some fresh new kinks #I feel like uncle satoru would get off on full voyeurism and also cucking but w him being the one fucking her #and branding and just being a gross molesting lil freak #highkey #ring ring #tw.incest

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

ok.. bagginshield: bodyguard au, bilbo is a paramedic, and has amnesia. PLease i'm BEGGING

Sandy. My dude. I told you I had an idea for this but it became SUCH A BIG THING!! 😮‍💨😍 So I hope you can forgive the late due date with almost 3K of Bagginshield...where I couldn't use Thorin's name! 🤣 So without further ado...

Pairing: Bagginshield

Warning: Blood/Gore-ish

Words: 2638

“Back again, Mr. Baggins?”

Bilbo whirled around to see the nurse at the desk smiling sympathetically at him. It honestly only made Bilbo feel more pathetic as he played with the stems of the flowers he carried. Three days ago, he had done everything he could to help keep a John Doe alive in the back of his ambulance, and still he couldn’t get the comatose patient out of his mind. His cousin, Siggy, was right. He needed help. Or at the very least a vacation.

“You caught me.” He laughed nervously. “No one’s claimed him yet, have they?”

She shook her head sadly. “No, but he did wake up last night briefly! Dr. Greyham is very optimistic about his recovery.”

That was great news. Bilbo certainly hadn’t held much hope when they found him. Bloodied and beaten in an alleyway, responding to a good samaritan call hours after what they presumed to be a mugging. His pulse had been too low, and with the severity of the head wound, Bilbo had been afraid they wouldn’t find much brain activity. If he was in fact waking up though, it did make Bilbo’s visits a bit more awkward. 

“Go on in.” The nurse encouraged. “He may appreciate having someone to talk things out with.”

Bilbo nodded and thanked her as he worked up the courage to enter. His relief was palpable when he saw that the man was still asleep. Just as he had been, Bilbo set his flowers in the vase next to his bed before taking a seat in the visitor’s chair. The man had gorgeous dark hair that was starting to get oily at this point. Bilbo knew he had been subjected to sponge baths for sterilization, but Bilbo mourned the lack of bathing for him. Luckily, they hadn’t had to cut much of his locks when they were stitching his head back together, but there would be a noticeable balding on the right side underneath all of the bandages. Bilbo hoped the man wasn’t too vain about his appearances to pitch a fit at that. Certainly Bilbo has treated plenty who were. The ‘saving their lives’ part falling secondary almost immediately.

Bilbo finally heaved a sigh and pulled his bag of knitting equipment off his shoulder as he settled in for his usual monologue. The first time he had done this, he had felt quite silly and was afraid that the man would wake up at any time to tell him off. However, he has come to find it almost therapeutic, talking to someone who can only listen. 

“Well, Mr. Oakenshield. Not much to add on today. I finally got the last of those stubborn weeds out of my vegetable planter. Only I fear they will just return in a few days. With the rain we’ve been having lately, I wouldn’t expect anything less. You might be pleased to know that Detective Inspector Bard is looking into your case, but has yet to come up with any definite answers to who hurt you. Well, maybe he has. It’s not like I’m privy to police investigations after all. And well, let’s just look at your chart here…oh this is promising! 

Dr. Greyham says that you are showing massive improvement. If you can ever finally pull away from this nasty coma, you shouldn’t expect any lasting damage. That’s quite lucky. Just last week my partner and I responded to a man who had gotten himself crushed under an air conditioning unit and…well I’ll spare you the gory details. Let’s just say that he won’t quite have the motor functions he used to.

I can imagine this is very good news to you. I’m mean, I’d hate to assume, but I’d imagine you enjoy spending time at the gym. After all, nobody your age looks like…that is to say you’re very…oh what the hell, you’re probably about the fittest person I know Mr. Oakenshield. Of course, even though Theo and Hamfast and Siggy all think that’s why I keep coming to visit you, it’s not. You see I’d quite hate for anyone to wake up alone after an ordeal like yours. I’d do it for…any John Doe you see, but I must admit there is something about you that I’m quite…AHH!”

Bilbo jumped out of his chair, dropping his knitting on the bed, as he backed up with a hand over his heart. The man blinked his drowsy, but confused bright blue eyes at Bilbo as if trying to make sense of him.

“I’m so…so terribly sorry.” Bilbo explained breathlessly. “This must all be rather confusing. Let me introduce myself. I’m Bilbo Baggins, I’m the paramedic who worked on you after we found you in that alley.”

“Alley?” The man repeated roughly as if the word were foreign to him.

“Um, yes. Let me just call your doctor real quick.”

Bilbo moved to press the ‘assistance’ button above the man’s head, when his hand snaked out to grab Bilbo’s arm. He felt himself gasp, both at the speed of the reflex and the tightness of his grip. No loss of motor skills, that was for certain. The man mumbled something to him, but it was in a completely different language. Bilbo felt his heart sink. He hadn’t accounted for this. The man was a tourist? That might explain why no one had come for him yet. The only problem was Bilbo was quite sure he didn’t speak whatever language the man was muttering in as it wasn’t Westron and certainly not Sindrian.

“I don’t…understand.” He breathed slowly. “Can you…understand me?”

The man furrowed his brows together before he slowly nodded his head. That was good! He was bilingual at least. Bilbo thought it was best to start with the basics.

“Can you tell me your name?”

The man opened his mouth only to close it and open it once more. After that, a look of horror crossed his face, and Bilbo’s attention was grabbed by the spiking heart monitor.

“No, no! It’s okay.” Bilbo rushed. “This is totally common for an injury like yours.”

Instincts took over, and Bilbo grabbed his hand in comfort as he slowly tilted his chin towards him looking for signs of a concussion. His pupils were certainly dilated and when Bilbo asked him to follow his finger around, it definitely seemed conclusive. Concussions and short term amnesia would be common with this type of injury.

“We’re going to start slow. You don’t remember your name right now, and that’s okay. What do you remember?”

The man took a deep breath as his eyes turned towards the ceiling. Before he could say a word though, there was a knock at the door. It didn’t seem unusual until Bilbo’s gaze fell upon the dry erase board next to the door. The John Doe wasn’t due for check-up for another hour, and Bilbo’s finger never made it to the assist button. Bilbo got up cautiously when his arm was grabbed again, but this time the man’s eyes were wide with panic.

“I remember someone was trying to kill me.”

Cold seeped into Bilbo’s chest as his heart thumped along to the adrenaline surging through him. Bilbo barely had a chance to say anything when the door was forced open. After that, it was like a scene from an action movie. Bilbo was thrown over to the other side of the bed as gunshots rang through the room. Cutting through the mattress that had previously been occupied. Bilbo instinctively covered his head, screaming over the noise, managing to wrench his eyes open just enough to check on the other man. What he saw, stunned him to silence. 

The man was calculated, calm, and seemed to be running off pure muscle memory as his eyes remained wild and afraid. When the gunfire stopped for a moment, the man leapt into action. Taking one of Bilbo’s knitting needles, he shoved it through the throat of the assailant reloading his pistol, using him as a human shield against the second one as he barreled into him. Using his own gun to shoot him in the head. In seconds, Bilbo had gone from thinking he was certainly going to die, to staring at two gruesomely murdered bodies. The man certainly wasn’t done there. He poked his head out into the hallway only to curse and close and lock the door. He looked through the pockets of the dead men on the floor for another clip that he loaded into the gun in his hand with an ease that made Bilbo realize he was dealing with some sort of professional.

“Clothes.” He barked.

Bilbo raised his hands above his head slowly. “C-Clothes?” He repeated.

The man growled before pulling at his hospital gown with impatience.

“My clothes?”

Bilbo pointed at the cabinet behind him. As soon as the man spun around, Bilbo made a mad dash for the door. Before he could reach it, he was pushed up against the wall and held there by the deranged man.

“There are three more out in the hallway ready to kill the first thing that comes through that door. Do you want that to be you?”

Bilbo shook his head rapidly.

“Then help me get out of here.”

“Who are you?” Bilbo gasped after he was released.

The man had his back turned to him as he stripped down to nothing pulling on his bloodied and torn clothing from days ago.

“I don’t remember.” He grumbled. 

“So how do I know I can trust you?”

“Considering the ease I just killed those guys, if I wanted you dead, I would have already done it.”

That was a rather grim, but valid point. 

“Let me ask you something. Earlier, when you thought I was still asleep, you called me ‘Oakenshield’. Why?”

Bilbo could feel his mouth go dry at the question before pointing to the pin on the man’s chest. It seemed to be a coat of arms; only one of the symbols on the shield was an acorn. The man looked down at it as well, his face betraying some amusement. However, he didn’t deign commenting on it as he moved towards the pocket door that was shared between rooms. 

“Don’t you think they’ll be waiting for you?” Bilbo asked.

“Only one way to find out.” The man explained before opening the door, pushing the heart monitor through it, and immediately closing it. 

There was a shout, the sound of feet running towards the room, and more gunshots. The man quickly closed the door again before he or Bilbo could get hit before moving towards the outer door. 

“Go! I’ll cover you.”

Bilbo didn’t have to be told twice as he raced for the stairwell hoping to find safety from this nightmare. He felt the bullets whizzing by before he heard them, and was definitely aware of the man returning fire as he followed after him.

“Only three!?” Bilbo complained throwing himself down the stairs.

“So maybe four!”

They went down a floor, but rather than keep going, the man shoved them into the door for the ER. It was utter chaos as doctors and nurses were trying to secure and placate patients and guests alike. 

“This way.” The man urged, pushing Bilbo through the throng of people trying to get out. 

They found a break room and shoved their way inside. 

“Are we just going to wait here until the police get here?” Bilbo asked hopefully.

He could tell from the stern look he received that was not going to be the case. So what Bilbo was learning was this man had assassin level skills and didn’t trust the police. The situation he found himself in was looking bleaker by the second.

“Paramedic? Right?” The man questioned holding out a jacket with the hospital’s logo on it. 

Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion the plan the man had was going to get him in a heap of trouble. Sure enough, seconds later found him pushing a gurney through ER to the doors on the other side.

“Sir! Just where do you think you’re going?” Bilbo was stopped by a frantic nurse.

Bilbo flashed his ID. 

“Ma’am, this is a comatose patient of Dr. Greyham that can’t be off life support for more than twenty minutes. I’m supposed to get him in a bus and to Tuckborough Medical ASAP. Doctor’s orders.”

She hesitated before nodding, going as far as to call in the ambulance for him. Bilbo was going to have to remember how much he owed the staff at Hobbiton General another time. As soon as Bilbo had the man loaded up, he pulled away the sheet and climbed into the passenger seat next to Bilbo.

“Okay, you gun wielding, knitting needle stabbing manic! I have done everything you asked. I’m most likely going to lose my job for this if they don’t see fit to throw me behind bars. So you better have something you can give me or I’m pulling over at the next police precinct.”

The man grimaced. “I told you. I. Don’t. Remember. I just know they are the bad guys. And they want me dead.”

Bilbo gave a little sarcastic laugh and head tilt. “Oh, great.”

“There is one more thing.”

Bilbo slowly looked over at the man as much as he could without crashing the ambulance.

“It only started to kick in when you called me ‘Oakenshield’, but I was…protecting something…or someone.”

“That’s…vague.” Bilbo complained.

“But this…” The man sighed with impatience before pointing towards the pin on his chest. “Is the clue. It’s the coat of arms for the royal family of Erebor.”

“Erebor?! Like halfway across the world Erebor?”

“Really? Halfway across the world? Where exactly am I?”

Bilbo drew in a shaky breath starting to finally hit the point of ‘too much’. It’s funny. One would think that moment was…oh, about fifteen minutes ago with all the shooting. The other man seemed to realize it as well.

“Look, I’m sorry. You’ve been very kind to me and if you want me to…walk away, I wouldn’t blame you. I just feel like if I’m able to retrace my steps, I’ll find out what was so important it was literally worth dying over.”

“This isn’t a spy movie. You could just be patient and let the healing naturally take over.” Bilbo suggested with a huff.

“Judging by our friends back there, I don’t think I have that kind of time.”

Bilbo looked over at the man one more time. That lost look that has been in his eyes since the moment he woke up was still there. And despite everything he’s seen, everything he’s experienced that should have him running for the hills, Bilbo really wanted to believe him. And help him if he could.

“Alright.” He sighed. “I’ll show you the alley where I picked you up. But after that, I’m done. And if I get picked up and questioned by the cops, I’m telling them the truth!”

“Fair enough.” The man shrugged. “But could you do me one more favor?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“Could you stitch this bullet wound in my side?”

Bilbo cursed at the red staining the man’s dark shirt as he pulled over to the side of the road. 

“I expect to be billed for all the times I have to play ‘personal physician’ because I can’t imagine this being the last time.” He complained.

The man let out a roaring laugh that had Bilbo’s cheeks warming all the way to the tips of his ears. This was very not good. It was bad enough when he had a crush on his comatose patient. He had no idea how to handle falling for this bodyguard/assassin/psychopath. Jury was certainly still out on which one he may turn out to be.

#modern may #the hobbit #bagginshield #sunny's drabbles #amnesia au #yes yes i know this could be a full fic #DON'T REMIND ME #I MIGHT START TO WANT IT

[zcls]

first kiss, z.cl

synopsis you and chenle have been friends since you could begin to speak; every memory has him attached to it. when he asks you to teach him how to kiss before his first date with the girl of his dreams, although you’ve never kissed anyone before, you agree. after a kiss or two— feelings come to the forefront. genre gn!reader x chenle, childhood friends to lovers!au,  warnings very small angst (?), mentions of comparing oneself to someone else, making out, kissing chenle for the first time! chenle is a bit handsy when it comes to kissing; nothing too serious! word count 2.7k

chenle was utterly infatuated; not with you, but with someone else. you saw it in his eyes whenever he spoke about the girl that he had been talking to for the past three weeks. you saw it in the spring in his step whenever he walked through your door for saturday movie nights that you two had shared every weekend since you were fourteen, and through the way he canceled on you the previous saturday because he was taking her out on an extravagant date. he viewed her as entirely perfect and although you had never met her in person— you started to see her as perfect too.

the problem with seeing her as perfect from all that you heard from your best friend’s point of view lied within the fact that your heart had been in his palms since your first day of freshman year of high school, when he locked his arm with yours, reassuring you that you would be okay; that he would be by your side through it all. his smile was warm, his eyes were a galaxy full of love for you—a friendly love— and stars all combined. you fell right then, and since, you haven’t been able to pick yourself back up; you haven’t been able to fully piece yourself back together.

now, you sit next to chenle as he types on his phone, an adoring smile plastering his visage that you had come to love so much. the hearty chuckle that escaped his heart-shaped lips caused your heart to ache— you only wished you could make him display such emotions. only in your dreams, that’s the only place where you could make him as happy as she did. 

“y/n?” chenle asked, tearing himself away from his phone for a brief second to look over at you, who was shaking unknowingly, from the upset that filled your heart and the thoughts that played throughout your head as if a broken record.

“yes, chenle?” you questioned, turning around to face him. his eyes were still full of that friendly love, but there was a glint of concern that now filled his orbs. your heart ached more at the sight, knowing he could somewhat feel the pain that plagued your heart and filled your every thought. you wondered how he knew you so well; to be able to look at you and instantly know that something was out of the ordinary. 

he knew you like the back of his hand though, truth be told. he knew the way your hands trembled when you were upset and how the movements of your hands changed when you were happy; you would do things softer, in a quicker motion, especially when you wrote in your journal. he knew that your lip quivered when you were about to break down in tears and how your eye twitched when you were angry. he knew everything about you, although you didn’t notice— he always paid attention to you, to everything about you.

he also knew that you hated when others asked about how you were feeling— you hated the intrusion. chenle knew that you’d come to him eventually; that you would explain how you are feeling and why you feel such a way. that was the beauty about your friendship; communication was always there.

so, he was going to ask you the next thing that appeared within his mind. he wanted to know how to kiss— how to give someone a genuine kiss, like how they’re portrayed in movies. he wanted his first kiss with the girl he’d been texting to be absolutely perfect, and you were just the person to go to. you were his best friend; you always helped him in times of need and you were always there with him, no matter what. 

“do you know how to kiss someone?” he questioned, “like, the right way?” he asked, his face seeming full of anxiety. he had never asked anyone such a question and asking the person he’s had by his side since he was just a little boy seemed to make him even more fearful. he tapped his knee, wishing that he didn’t screw anything up within his relationship with you.  

“you don’t know how to kiss her, do you?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, smiling at the boy in front of you whose cheeks were now tainted with crimson.

“i was kinda—,” began the boy, cheeks turning darker at each thought; the pure embarrassment of asking his best friend what was about to escape his champagne colored lips, “wondering if you could show me how to kiss her?”

you nearly choked on your own saliva at his words, heart beating faster and faster each second after. you were at a loss for words. your best friend was asking you, his best friend since the two of you were kids, to teach him how to kiss. hell, you’ve never had your first kiss before. you had no idea what you were supposed to do anyway, so how could you be of help to chenle at all? you felt as if you would only make the situation worse— for both him and your heart.

“you want me to kiss you?” you questioned, now playing softly with the hem of your shirt to distract you from your thoughts. he was all you could think about; from the top of his head where his soft hairs lie to his heels that press him firmly to the ground when he stands. each and every aspect of him filled your mind; it was as if the only thing in the world to exist within your brain was him. for that split moment, you really didn't mind.

"i want to kiss you to test the waters—," chenle said, clearing his throat and looking the other way to avoid any type of awkward eye contact with you, although he knew it wouldn't be that awkward. you were his best friend, after all, you always were there to help him learn new things. "you're my best friend, y/n. it wouldn't be weird at all."

you sighed softly, nodding your head to the boy and seeing his eyes light up with the gleam that you found yourself madly in love with. you saw the entire galaxy within the sole irises of his mahogany orbs and at times, it was almost as if you couldn't pull yourself from staring into them. you were so enamored by the way his eyes showed his emotions when his face didn't need to. each feature about him was perfect, and you wished your brain was merely a camera to capture each moment of him so you could never forget— so he was always there through euphoric memories within your brain when he wasn't in front of you.

without noticing, as you were lost in thought about the boy in front of you, chenle moved himself closer to you so your knees were now touching and you were facing one another. you couldn't help but smile at the goofy look on his face; he always looked so silly when it came to new things, like the time you two went on your first rollercoaster together and held hands the entire way through. he had the silliest of smiles plastered on his visage, but you could see the happiness placed there, too.

in that moment, you realized— chenle was always there for your firsts of something. he was there the first time you ever rode your bike without training wheels, the first time you drove your car with your license. he was there to be your first dance at homecoming your freshman year of high school, and your last during prom when your senior year caught up with you. he was there for you when you got your first pet, and there throughout the nights you sobbed when it left. he was always there to turn to; he was always, without complaint, by your side.

“instead of blabbering on, kiss me already, chenle.” you said finally, trying to loosen the muscles in your body that were tense at the thought of your lips touching. “you won’t learn anything for her if you keep sitting there, you know.”

chuckling at your works, chenle leaned in closer to you, cupping his hands around your face. he smiled softly at you, caressing your cheeks gently with his thumbs. you couldn’t help the swarm of butterflies within your stomach, he was just so beautiful.

from the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs to the way he looks at the things he loves; it was all beautiful. from his head to his feet, from the air above his head to the ground below him— nothing could get any more beautiful than that. you swore that there has never been a being in the world more beautiful—or just as beautiful— as him, and you believed entirely that there would never be enough.

he made you see the world in ways that you would have never seen it before him. the world is certainly not as beautiful as it may seem; as it ranges in beauty and fair ugliness— chenle was surely the true beauty in this cruel, yet, ugly world. no words could possibly describe how truly wonderful he is in your eyes. everything he does, everything he touches— it holds some type of beauty because it has touched him.

the smiles that kisses his lips daily, the reason for light. the laughs that he lets out when he's happy, the reason for happiness. the way he holds your hand when you’re anxious, the way he doesn’t care about what others think of your friendship; the reason to keep trying. the small smiles he gives you when he looks up from his phone and sees you glancing at him; the reason to keep your heart open.

chenle’s lips touched yours, causing you to let out a gasp at his warm touch. his lips were soft and tasted of vanilla, causing you to wonder if he was the one who took your vanilla chapstick from your glovebox. his kiss was an eager one, full of willingness to learn for the girl he liked so very much, and that caused your heart to only become sore at the thought. 

he pulled away and looked at you with warm, comforting eyes that also held worry within them. he pursed his lips. “was that good?” he questioned.

you could only nod in response, quietly hoping that he would kiss you again. you felt your heart beating against your ribcage, and you knew that you wanted his lips connected to yours once more. it was as if you entered your own special heaven with his lips attached to yours and with that; it was a heaven you never wanted to leave.

chenle’s thoughts were preoccupied though, with thoughts of you, and just how right it felt kissing you in that moment. you and chenle—the most exciting bunch around. meeting only at age three at a playground and becoming instantly close, you both felt as if you had known each other your entire life.

you went to parties together, you laughed and cried together; you did everything with one another. he helped you study when you were completely lost, always cheering you on with the you're doing great’s and the occasional you got this!’ speeches.

he helped you when things felt like they were crashing down; he made things stable. he made it feel like things were going to get better, with time, at least. he always reminded you how it was okay to make mistakes and that no matter what, you're human. no amount of failures could make you less of a human; they only make you stronger.

late night's with your hands intertwined watching television, he couldn't help but admire how lovely you are— how lucky he is to call you his best friend. the things you did were always in a platonic manner, seeming how you, of course, were merely silent about love and how you wanted to pursue it. he never knew what you wanted, due to the fact that you never initiated anything with him out of your sheer timidness, which caused him to run and stick with people who he didn’t even want anything romantic with. all that because he was waiting— waiting hopelessly for you.

he realized then that he was in love with you, too— that the looks he gave you weren’t out of concern, but out of love. he realized that the things he wrote in his journal about you, including the songs, weren’t just a phase of a young boy feeling puppy love, but rather a boy who was growing up and feeling the love of the most important person in his life. 

“can i kiss you again?” chenle asked softly, rubbing the back of his neck as the words escaped his lips. his shyness caught your attention, causing your stomach to erupt with butterflies and euphoria.

“of course, chenle,” you began, “you can kiss me again.” you didn’t even have to finish your sentence before his lips were connected to yours once more. but this time, his kiss was filled with more fervor than what it was to begin with. it was as if he was no longer kissing you for practice, but as if he asked to kiss you again to genuinely kiss you. 

your lips molded perfectly together as you kissed, his hands rubbing the outer part of your thighs. you then moved yourself to straddle his lap, having him chuckle against your lips at the movement. you had no idea what you were doing, honestly, there was nothing except passion filling your brain. you wanted to kiss him until you could no longer breathe— you wanted to kiss him until the world ended and you hoped that if it did, you could find a possible way to kiss him again.

as you straddled his lap, his hands found their way underneath your shirt to softly caress your waist. you felt yourself fall more in love with the boy in front of you, whom you were currently making out with. you would have never ever thought you’d be in this position with chenle, your best friend, who you believed was in love with someone else.

you pulled away to look at him, your eyes glimmering with love and lust to kiss him once again. you couldn’t help but think— why were you two in this position? was it because he saw you as someone he could potentially be with, or was it because it was his way of practicing for the girl he was supposed to see in the upcoming days?

“chenle,” you breathed as the boy leaned his forehead to touch yours; a meaningless gesture to some, but you felt your heart swell up. it was romantic, and you couldn’t get enough.

“yeah, baby?” he asked, causing you to feel dizzy at the nickname that he rarely gave you unless you were upset and he was calming you down. 

“was that—,” you begin, catching yourself shaking slightly at the thought of the words that were just about to fall from your lips, “for practice? you know, for your date in a few days?”

chenle only laughed at you, his mellifluous laugh filled the air as you stared back at him. he was so beautiful when he laughed— he always looked as if he was the happiest being alive when he did so, and nothing made you happier than seeing his inexplicable happiness.

“i wouldn’t have kissed you again if it weren’t for you.” he said, now caressing your hips with his thumbs since you didn’t leave your previous position of atop his lap. “i realized halfway through our first kiss that you are the only person i ever want to kiss.”

you felt your cheeks heat up with crimson; “you want to only kiss me?” you inquired, causing the boy to shake his head before leaning down and kissing you again.

“more than you’ll ever know,” he said softly against your lips— leaving your heart in flutters.

you no longer had to worry about chenle and his short-lived relationships with others, because you knew now that his heart was yours, entirely yours. as the tears brimmed your mahogany eyes, you reached for his hand and kissed it gently. with his hand in yours, you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, adoration filling the air.

#i have come back to cause chaos. here is a fic that i fully immersed myself in #i've had college orientation and vacation.. my brain has been so full :'((( #man at work made me very uncomfy so posting this to feel better!! i can't stand men #also!! posting this because i've worked so hard on it :') also to make more chapters to slh #all work i was thinking about making out w/ chenle... i'm in so much pain #chenle #zhong chenle #nct chenle #nct zhong chenle #chenle nct #zhong chenle nct #chenle scenario #chenle scenarios #chenle imagine #chenle imagines #chenle drabble #chenle timestamp #chenle fic #nct fic #nct fics #chenle fics #nct dream #nct #nct drabble #nct drabbles #nct fluff #chenle fluff #nct dream fluff #nct timestamp #nct timestamps

[magistralucis]

"I forgive you." - Yenekh/Oltyx (for @courgowr)

(Drabble Oneshot for a prompt fill challenge, prompts available here.)

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Even after all's been said and done there's one more thing that lingers, a guilt that has never gone away. Forgive me for what I have done, Oltyx often asks of his formal admiral, his hand upon a silver claw or a bloodied forehead, his own head bowed in shame. It is not enough that he overcame life and death for his atonement, it must be spelled out, or he is a sinner still. I was cruel and I was craven, and I had dealt with you unjustly.

Well, I forgive you, Yenekh had laughed the very first time. The following year Oltyx took him as consort. Yenekh has been nothing but patient with him since, repeatedly reassuring him that all had been long forgiven, the tips of his claws ticking fondly upon Oltyx's carapace. The king doesn't doubt that he means it, for the Razor is not by nature dishonest. But he's sure there must be more he can do for Yenekh, if not as a sinner than as one beloved, because as far as he's concerned Yenekh has always deserved the world.

It just feels hypocritical to claim this when he's destroyed it once before.

He's not doing it to be burdensome. He's like this because he loves Yenekh. His old lives feel so distant from him now (and are, since nothing is as close yet so far away as death), but here's yet another shortfall from those august times: Oltyx has no idea how to be good to his amours, for there was never a match made for him in Ithakas, nor did he and his brother ever entertain admirers. Frankly he's not even sure Djoseras ever knew the C of courtship. No one is left to teach Oltyx either way. He is very loved in Drazak, more than he was loved in his previous lives - which he now understands was more than he knew at the time - but he has not been in the position to love another as equals until now. And so the Fallen Lord contemplates, day after day, how he might truly be the friend and king that Yenekh deserves.

To talk about it, at least, without putting his guilt on the other's shoulders. All the time in the world is theirs and he still feels it to be slow learning. 

An opportunity arises on the next occasion he orders the bounty.

[Published 25/01/2024 - continued on AO3 here.]

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #the twice dead king #oltyx #yenekh #necrons #necron #fanfiction #prompt fill #drabble #(it is not a drabble but i'm tagging it as such so you can find the other... actual drabbles....... lmao) #oltyx: i'm just not sure if my brother ever loved ;( #djoseras; who canonically survived the unsurvivable by trusting in his best friend for hundreds of years: say what you little bastard #so i guess i have full time unable to control wordcount disease now. i actually thought about this prompt for a very long time #and what came of it was both a question that needed answering and too long to be confined to a tumblr post tale #so here we are. first fic of 2024 and it's a 2300-word oneshot #thank you courgowr for letting me do this :D i'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long #notes will be updated in a little bit