#it's officially not a drabble

[ok-boomerang]

Hey Lena!

Zutara Drabble # 5 & 8, please. ^.^

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” & “Wanna bet?”

Katara knocked once, briefly, on the Fire Lord’s office door before pushing it open and inviting herself in. She and Zuko had worked together for so long—had been friends for so long—that they no longer had the need, or the patience, for a semblance of formality.

Katara supposed that on some unlucky day in the future she might walk in on him practicing his Iroh impression, or worse (better?), with his pants down. But per usual, the Fire Lord was merely at his desk, head in hand, as his glazed-over eyes scanned some boring parchment.

“Hey Zuko,” chirped Katara, feeling herself almost expand upon seeing him, upon seeing the transformation of his face when his eyes fell on her—the subtle widening of his right eye, the easy smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” he said in response, setting his parchment aside and giving her his full attention. A piece of hair had fallen out of his top knot. “My favorite ambassador—"

“Mhm, whatever,” she joked back. “Funny how I become the favorite every time the fishing waters treaty is up for renewal—"

“You’re always my favorite, I just happen to point it out at specific times.”

Katara rolled her eyes, even though she felt her cheeks warm a little at Zuko’s words.

“Anyway,” she said, shrugging off that impossibility, “I’m just delivering the report on the healers in Fire Fountain City.” She handed him another piece of parchment, which Zuko took with some hesitation.

“The report on the healers—?” he muttered, eyes scanning the page. “But I didn’t need this for a couple more days—”

“Yes, well, Tanriq invited me to the Fire Lantern Festival tomorrow evening, so I got it done early.”

She watched as Zuko’s eyes stopped scanning the parchment, but he didn’t look up.

“Tanriq?” For some reason, his voice had gone up in pitch.

“Do you know another Tanriq?” Katara asked, curious at Zuko’s confusion.

“The—the ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe?”

“Of course,” said Katara slowly.

“You’re—together?”

“No,” she said immediately, and then chided herself. “I mean—I’m giving him a chance. So…maybe in the future? We’ll see how it goes—”

“It’s not going to go well,” Zuko interrupted her.

Katara blinked at him. “Huh?”

“I mean,” Zuko said, bringing his hands in front of him on the desk and rolling them together. “I just mean—it’s just a little odd, the two of you—the Fire Lantern Festival—"

“What’s so odd about it?” Katara asked, half surprised and half curious about the issue Zuko saw that she couldn’t. “I like festivals.”

“Right, but do you like them with Tanriq? I—I dunno you will.”

“Sure, he’s a little boring—”

“He doesn’t know you at all!” Zuko interjected, and then quieted, shifting his eyes. But he continued. “I mean, will he know to take you to the food stalls that sell ocean kumquats? Will he take you dancing early enough so you don’t miss the tsungi horn players?”

Katara laughed. “I can tell him not to!” she pointed out. “You don’t need to be worried for me, I’m sure we’ll have a fine time—”

“Wanna bet?”

Katara stared at him. “Do I want to…make a bet about whether I’ll enjoy myself on a date?”

“Um,” said Zuko, shifting in his seat so that the chair squeaked. The panic on his face did not match the regality of his formal robes. “No, that was uncalled for, sorry,” he said. “I—I—”

And as Zuko stuttered, and Katara stared at Zuko’s rapidly reddening cheeks, she came to an unlikely—but perhaps possible?—conclusion.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She had to fight the urge to clap a hand to her mouth in horror. And if Zuko had looked skeptical whatsoever, she would have curled in on herself and scurried out the door like a goat dog with its tail between its legs. And then possibly quit her job and moved to the Foggy Swamp.

But Zuko didn’t look skeptical. Zuko did not calmly and coolly reject her suggestion. Instead, he noisily backed up his chair, stood, buried his hands in his hair, and yelped, “Me?! Jealous?! No—no, definitely not!” And then he laughed like an unhinged hyena leopard.

“I—” Katara started, over what sounded like the beginnings of a panic attack. “I—um,” she said, reminding herself that she was a waterbending master and teacher to the Avatar and she was not scared of anything—“I won’t go with him. If you—um—if you don’t want me to,” she said, knowing that her tone had drastically changed from teasing to serious.

Zuko’s laughter died down and he matched her serious expression. “Katara, no—I would never try to insert myself in your personal life—I’m sorry, I just got, um—” he paused, but didn’t finish his sentence.

“Can I take your bet then?”

“What?”

“But for the other side. I bet you I won’t have a nice time with Tanriq.”

“I—look—I was being childish—of course you’ll have a nice time—”

“Maybe,” she said, and Zuko’s face fell for the briefest moment before he schooled it to one of impassive regard once more. “But I think I’ll have a nicer time with someone who knows me better, like you said.”

Zuko looked away from her and stretched his arm behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I think you should go with whoever you want to go with,” he muttered.

Katara wanted to scream. But…she did want this more than she wanted to scream. “You,” she said, only a smidge of frustration in her voice. “I’d rather go with you.”

Zuko’s eyes snapped to hers. “Oh? Is that—is that—is that right?”

“If, um, if you want to,” she murmured, suddenly feeling her mortification rise. What if she’d gauged this wrong? She did get along with Hu in the Foggy Swamp. She could totally start a new life there.

“Yes,” Zuko said immediately. “I mean—yes. I do want.” His eyes were boring into hers.

“Um, great,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “So…I’ll tell Tanriq nevermind…and you’ll just need to tell your guards—”

“No,” Zuko said, leaning forward now, and Katara felt her blood thrill. “Many of the festival goers will wear masks. We can too.

“Really? But I don’t have a mask—"

“Don’t worry, I have an idea for us.”

[humanjarvis]

imagine gideon calling you pip-squeak. 

he and caleb are walking you back from the movie theater when you trip on the stairs outside your building. “watch your step, pip-squeak,” he teases, chuckling lightly.

you get the ick for a second, but play it off with a groan. “ugh, not another one!”

and caleb agrees. not another one. he bristles as you both laugh, your leftover drink and popcorn in his hand when he’d really rather they be lodged in gideon’s esophagus. 

after making sure you’re okay, he hugs you goodbye and angles your body away from gideon, leveling his friend with an icy glare. when he speaks, though, his voice is jarringly tender. “goodnight, pip-squeak,” he says, patting your hair with those doting strokes of his. 

“goodnight,” you sigh into his chest, blissfully unaware of the psychological evisceration happening above you. 

when your apartment door shuts, caleb doesn’t even have to open his mouth before gideon speaks. “sorry, man.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Beetlejuice x AFAB!Reader || Drabble+Smut

Plot: You bet him he couldn't leave you alone (stop harassing you) for even one day, not realising that he would take winning s o seriously, but he's a stubborn old fuck so now its been weeks, and he still wont give in. And well... now you kinda miss him. Ironic, huh?

Warnings: Smut. Reader is DOWN BAD, FED UP AND WANTS THAT PERVERT DICK. A little daddy kink, panty stealing, creampie (WRAP IT BEFORE YA TAP IT. Especially with this guy 😅 We dunno what he has 😅), at points its even kinda f l u f f y?? I tried to connect with different facets of Beetlejuice 😅🤣 XD Unedited.

"Stay fucken still." That raspy voice sounding a hundred shades of pissed o f f creeping directly in your ear, as well as the boner you're sitting on, do absolutely the opposite to what he wants. They do not deescalate anything- in fact, you just feel even more turned on. Jesus christ, who knew it would only take 2 weeks no-contact for you to find him attractive.

But-- b o y, do you see it now.

Yeah he's mucky, but thats part of it?? The harsh mossy stubble and forearm hair (When he rolls up his sleeves), the deep greasy racoon bags around his dark beady eyes, the crazy hair that will not be tamed, everything. You know its kind of fucked up, but you have never wanted someone so bad. And if it weren't for that stupid bet 2 weeks ago-- you would have him! Goddamnit. You and your big mouth.

"Come on BJ," You urge softly, using the tip of your finger to guide his face towards you even as every muscle in his face fights to stay strong and remain stern- and most importantly, avoid looking at you. "Look at me." The ghost with the most hadn't looked at you since he accepted the bet, afraid of seeing you and immediately losing. Immediately being unable to keep his nasty eyes- hands- mouth, off of you.

He's been so strong. So boneheaded-ly strong.

Meanwhile you've been going crazy thinking about him stuffing you with his cock and then keeping your dirty underwear after.

Now sat atop his lap, face-forward, you intend to get him to look at you again and break his resolve. If it is the last thing you do tonight. Or for the week.

"I am lookin' at you." His face barely moves; the words coming out forced and humourless. No tone at all. But you can feel his cock painfully hard stretching the seam on his pants, and your underwear. Probably an embarrassing wet spot, too. "Whadaya mean."

You're so close he can surely feel your warm breath on his face. Giving his nose a cute little brush with your own, you feel his dick twitch in his black and white striped pants and a slow grin worms it way onto your lips. "No you're not... come on. Please, BJ?" With round eyes, you pout a little. "I miss you."

With that, he gives a frustrated and animated groan, and finally looks down from just past your head- to your eyes, causing a delighted smile to slip across your face. "Come on now baby- thats not fair at all. Come on."

You throw your arms around his neck as a familiarly slimy, hot, sex-crazed grin spreads across his grimy mouth. That wild look that apparently you love appearing in his eyes again, looking down at you- all over. Licking over your pretty willing body with just a look. "You didn't give me a choice!!"

"Hey, hey, hey- you bet me, sugar- "

"Hey. You gonna take your chance and fuck me, or not?"

He shrugs. "Well when you're right, you're right." Then he kisses you open-mouthed and all-tongue and just how you imagined he would kiss, and swallows any giggle you were going to give. Along with all your thoughts.

~

Neither of you can bring yourselves to perform any foreplay- even though you want to. Want to enjoy this; grind in his lap a while longer, feel his tongue in your cunt, tease him with your lips warm and tongue damp over the top of his pants- But you're more then wet enough already, the fabric of your underwear sticks to your pussy lips, and his obviously rock-hard boner fights to tear a hole in its confines. You'll have time for all that fun stuff later, anyway.

You barely have time to properly taste each other's tongues for the first time before his greedy fingers are digging under your skirt, underneath your underwear, and slipping easily right into you. Too easily, shit. He gives a filthy groan, getting 3 of his fingers good and drenched in your slick; feeling your pretty cunt squeeze 'em. "Fuck, honey, I think this is the best pussy I ever had."

Breathless, you give a giggle; forehead pressed into his shoulder at just the feeling of his fingers invading you; hips juttering slightly into is hand. "You haven't even had me yet."

"Lets fix that, then, shall we? Now."

Your fingers go down to the button on his pants and eagerly, with deft fingers, undo it. He's not wearing underpants, predictably, so you just have to reach in and carefully finagle his fat cock free. Then you swipe a finger over the insanely leaky tip for fun and watch his head fall back against the wall, listening to the wildly horny, gutteral groan come out of him at the feeling.

He clicks his fingers and your underwear disappears. You see it reappear in his hand a last time, just before he shoves it in his jacket pocket; flashing you a cheesy grin. "Souvenir."

When finally, finally you sink down on his gross cock you both let out sighs of utter satisfaction. 2 weeks was a hell of an edge.

You're almost happy to just sit there with him stretching you open, milking him with your pussy, but when he shifts his hips, just getting more comfortable and laying his hands on your hips, the movement sparks a change of mind. "BJ... " You wrap your legs more securely around him, around the back of the chair he's sat in, and lift your hands to grip the lapels on his jacket. Your eyes meet his very dark, lusty ones. Just watching you; a little scary and a little smug and a little pussy drunk. "... fuck me."

"P l e a s e?"

"Please, daddy."

His eyes roll into the back of his head and dramatically huffs, making you giggle. "Oh fuck, baby, you really know howta murder a guy." With all his strength, he pulls himself back together; straightening up again. "Alright, alright- hold on, daddy's gonna take you on a ride."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even make noise, you blink and you're in another position entirely. Off the chair now, you find yourself pressed against a nearby wall, your legs still wrapped around him and his cock still throbbing inside you.

While you're feeling dizzy from teleporting, Beetlejuice pulls almost all the way out of your messy cunt and thrusts all the way back in- hard. He does it again. Then the pace picks up and he's pounding you into the wall at an inhuman pace that has you hiding your face in his shoulder again and knotting your fingers tight in his greasy hair.

Your orgasm builds up at a record pace, due to all the build up. It would be embarrassing, if he wasn't fighting not to paint your insides already himself. "I gotta- I gotta be honest, sweetie, I- I don't think daddy's gonna last long in this cat. Not this time. The way you're suckin me in- Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck. Pullin' my hair- Damn, shit, Fuck!- " Finally, BJ mashes his groin against yours and holds himself there; cumming hard inside you.

That causes your orgasm, rolling your hips against him and riding it out, making him shudder out a sigh. A vulgar dopey grin flickers across his jawline and black teeth.

... After a few minutes of heavy breathing- you catching your breath, and him just 'livin in it', enjoying the feel of breather meat for a while longer, you finally pull yourself together and raise your head carefully off his chest. "Um... " Suddenly you feel awkward. But not uncomfortable. You give a small, tired smile. "I don't know what to say?"

"... " He ducks down and presses his forehead to yours, and you're fooled for just a moment that this might be a sweet moment. "Uh. How about 'you win the bet, handsome?'."

Quickly you swat him, laughing. "Oh- Never!"

[rafey-baby]

c/w: yoga instructor!rafe being touchy & suggestive (is he even talking about yoga atp?) 18+ mdni!

wc: 890

part 2

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

She signed up for the class in order to help her achy muscles relax a bit, not expecting the instructor to be so…hot (for the lack of better words).

Therefore, it was nearly impossible for her focus her attention on his directions since all she could concentrate on was the way his muscles would ripple under his shirt and his beefy forearms flex whenever he’d demonstrate a new pose with sweat glittering on his forehead.  

He’d make rounds around class and help everyone get their form right and whenever he’d get to her, his hands would always linger for longer than necessary, making her assume she simply needed more assistance since she hadn’t really been paying attention when he was explaining it at the front.  

“Clumsy little thing, huh?” he’d playfully mock her when she’d stumble on her feet the minute his hands weren’t supporting her.

He'd always correct her posture with a warm palm on her waist— pushing her forward with a soft press of his big hand against her back; tapping her thigh to get her to switch into a better position. Heady breaths tickling her ear when he'd mumble out advice on how to get the stretch to feel deeper, murmuring soft words of encouragement in a certain cadence that would make her tingle, something profound in her tummy flutter.  

“This one’s a bit of a harder one but I know you can take it, yeah?”  

“Shit, you’re getting so good at this.”  

“You feel that?” 

Then one day after class when nearly everyone’s left and there’s only a few people loitering around, gathering their things, Rafe pads over to her. 

She’s in the midst of taking a sip from her water bottle and his tall frame approaching her makes her look up; he’s clad in a black pair of workout shorts and a dark grey t shirt. Her gaze stalls on the way his tongue pokes out to lick over his pillowy lips.  

“Hey, so I thought I could go over that one pose with you one more time. Just so you really get it for next time, yeah?” He suggests, merely wanting to help out the poor girl who’s always struggling in the back of his class.  

“Oh, um— sure,” she answers, embarrassment painting over her features because she knows exactly what he’s referring to; a specific position where she had toppled over and hit the floor, making Rafe’s eyes widen in concern and the other people around her gasp and ask if she was okay.  

It didn’t really even hurt that much, she thinks. At least not as much as her flimsy ego that got bruised up in the midst of it all, trying to cover up how humiliated she had felt with a small laugh, climbing back up to stand on wobbly legs accompanied by a flushed face.   

At this point they’re the only people left and she suddenly feels all too nervous because she’s never been alone with him before. Her inhales and exhales are turning labored, intractable. And she’s not sure whether her clamorous respiration is echoing in the empty room or in the empty halls of her mind. She mentally crosses her fingers and wishes it’s the latter, stepping on top of her shamrock-colored yoga mat.  

“So, what you wanna do is concentrate your weight on this leg, so you don’t lose your balance,” he taps her right thigh and she nearly stumbles on her feet once again; the corners of his mouth tugging up. “And then bend the other one right here, you think you can do that?”  

“Mhm,” she hums as she moves her limbs in the way he’s patiently instructing her to.  

“Just like that,” blue hydrangea eyes are glued to her, making her think he can read right through her as she swallows at the praise.  

“Then, you gotta lean your weight here,” he settles a hearty hand on her right upper arm, thumb mindlessly skating over her burning skin as she does just that.  

“There you go, Bambi,” he murmurs and a pomegranate tinge blushes over her cheeks at the nickname, rounded eyes trying to blink away the haze that clouds over them.  

“You feel it here?” His fingertips graze over her inner thigh and she manages a nod, limbs feeling mellow and spongy all of a sudden. 

“Good, good,” he breathes out and her brain turns into a knotted ball of wool at his intoxicating proximity.  

“And if you ever feel like you’re gonna fall, just focus on a specific spot on the floor or the wall or anything, it’ll help, alright?” The words sound almost gravelly when he rasps them out as his palms rest on her waist, strong arms steadying her.  

“Okay…thanks,” she manages out, sucking in some air her lungs are screaming for since apparently, she’s forgotten how important breathing is.  

He then pushes her forward a little, making her let out a small noise from the back of her throat in surprise. The sudden stretch of the position she’s now in making her gasp.  

“I know, feels good, huh?”  

“Uh— yeah,” she squeaks out, feeling the cotton material of her panties dampening at the way he’s speaking to her; her thoughts turning into something indecent, muddy...

[hyruling]

beautiful wife. please write buddie + 50 FOR ME. or buddie + 32 if that’s what strikes the fancy

50. “I need more time.” & 32: “Keep your eyes on me.”

—

The house is dark when Eddie lets himself in.

It’s dusk, the sunlight slowly giving way to shadow, dust motes swirling through the faint light peeking in through the curtains. They’re drawn haphazardly, as though someone ripped them closed in a hurry, but the sun is still stubbornly poking through the edges. There’s no sound from the kitchen, no TV or music playing, no warmth anywhere to be found. He knows where Buck will be.

He’s on his side, back to the door when Eddie quietly steps into the bedroom. He tiptoes around the bed so he can see him, make his presence known. His heart breaks all over again when he sees the face he’s been missing like a limb for months.

Buck is asleep, his face contorted with grief even in rest. His hair is a tangled mess of curls, pillow creases line his cheeks, and there are dark circles painted under his eyes. He looks so small, curled up on the bed with one hand tucked under the pillow and the other curled tight around his stomach, like he’d fallen asleep trying to hold himself together with his own hands.

Tears prick at Eddie’s eyes. He’s managed to put his own grief to the side until he could get back here, pushing it down to something manageable until it coiled like a snake ready to lunge in his chest. He’d focused all his attention on logistics and plane tickets and packing; on helping Chris navigate his feelings and endless phone calls to the Buck and the 118 letting them know he was there, he was right there with them, even from eight-hundred miles away.

Buck, it seems, has had no such luxury - he’s been feeling it all, the razor sharp agony and mind numbing emptiness of it all with no buffer, and this is probably the first real rest he’s had in days.

Eddie toes off his shoes and makes quick work of digging out a pair of sweats from his duffel, trading them for his jeans. He climbs into the bed and tucks himself against Buck’s back, noses into the warmth of his neck with a sigh. Something settles in his veins at the feel of him, the familiar scent of his shampoo. Buck doesn’t stir, not even when Eddie’s arm wraps around his side and his hand slips into Buck’s, gently prying his clenched fingers apart and smoothing them over his stomach. And for the first time since Buck called him to break the news, Eddie lets the tears fall, silent and warm into the neck of Buck’s shirt.

By the time Buck wakes, night has fallen and sunk the room into darkness. Eddie had dozed off himself at some point but only managed thirty fitful minutes of sleep; he’s spent a good hour watching the shadows play on the wall, and listening to the thunderstorm rolling in from the east. Rain patters softly on the window while Buck stirs under his arm - he’s sure that’s what woke him in the first place. Buck hasn’t been able to sleep through a storm since the lightning strike.

He doesn’t seem to register Eddie’s presence at first. He twists in Eddie’s arms and blinks blearily at him for a few moments, uncomprehending. His face goes slack when his eyes clear and adjust to the dark.

“Eddie?” he asks, voice like gravel.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says softly. His hand rests on Buck’s waist, and he squeezes gently.

“Thought you weren’t coming in ‘til tomorrow,” Buck mumbles, sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

“Changed my flight,” Eddie explains, and leaves it at that.

“Chris?”

“He’ll be here in the morning, he understood that I needed to be here.” With you, he doesn’t say. “Adriana is flying with him.”

Buck nods, accepting his non-explanation easily. Buck looks down between their bodies, not quite pressed together but close enough that he can feel Buck’s breath puff against his cheek when it starts going shallow, when he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Eddie,” Buck rasps, wrecked in a way Eddie hasn’t heard in a long time, and that’s all he needs. Eddie pulls Buck into him just as he breaks, shuddering against Eddie’s collarbone. His hands twist in Eddie’s shirt as the sobs wrack through him, and Eddie presses his own tear stained cheek against Buck’s hair.

“Shhh,” Eddie soothes him softly, though he’s barely keeping it together himself. “I’m here, Buck, I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

“He’s - he’s gone.”

His voice scrapes Eddie raw, makes his breath hitch on a sob that he tries to hide by pulling Buck closer. “I know. I know, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He holds Buck through it, combing his fingers gently through the tangles in his hair and rubbing his back while Buck shakes and cries. He doesn’t know how long it takes - time has a funny way of stretching and slowing after death until it feels meaningless. The storm outside reaches a peak just as Buck does, thunder shaking the walls as violently as Buck’s shoulders. Eddie holds on, lets Buck take what he needs, an immovable rock in the eye of the storm. Eventually, Buck stops shaking. His breathing evens out and he goes limp in Eddie’s arms, sniffling occasionally into his collarbone.

Just when Eddie thinks he’s fallen back to sleep, Buck says, “Athena asked me to ring the bell.”

Eddie tightens his hold, closes his eyes against the onslaught of tears that threaten to reappear. “He would want that too,” Eddie says gently, but Buck shakes his head and pulls back to look at him.

Even in the dark Eddie can see his eyes are bloodshot, dark circles more pronounced against his red rimmed lash line. He’s beautiful even in grief, devastatingly so. His chest aches at the look on Buck’s face, the guilt and sorrow leaving their cruel marks.

“Eddie, I don’t - I don’t think I can,” Buck admits, squeezing his eyes shut against fresh tears. “It’s - I can-can barely admit he’s gone, I can’t - I n-need more time, I can’t-”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie soothes. He lifts a hand to Buck’s face, swiping away the tears with his thumb. “You can. We’re going to get through this. All of us, together. I’ll be right there with you, okay?”

“Eddie, I don’t - you don’t get it, it’s my fault, I should have-”

“No,” Eddie cuts him off. “None of this is your fault, Buck, don’t do that. You know he would tell you the exact same thing.”

“You weren’t there, you-you didn’t see, I could have stopped it, I-”

It cuts like a knife, the guilt that cracks through his ribs. Buck is right - he wasn’t there, he couldn’t help, couldn’t protect Bobby or Buck or anyone. He knows he was where he needed to be, knows no one blames him for his absence, but it still crushes him a little to hear the thoughts that have haunted him for days from Buck’s mouth.

Buck must see some of that on his face, because he shakes his head urgently and grasps at his shoulder. “No, Eddie, I didn’t mean - you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie pushes his hand gently back into Buck’s hair, smoothly gliding through the curls now. “I know, Buck. I know. But this is no one’s fault, okay? It was an accident, just like we deal with everyday.”

Buck shudders and closes his eyes. Eddie traces his fingers over his face, brushes his birthmark with his thumb. Touching him this way crosses the line he’d so firmly held for so many years, but he can’t stop himself now. Doesn’t want to, either. He thinks he needs it as much as Buck right now, the closeness, the comfort of another person’s touch. Buck is always so cold, colder now in grief, but he’s warming under Eddie’s hands.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Buck murmurs, eyes still closed. Eddie feels Buck’s hands move soothingly over his shoulder blades, has to swallow against the wave of emotion that tries to consume him.

“Nowhere else I’d be,” Eddie says, and presses his lips to Buck’s hair. He’s not sure Buck even notices.

They’re quiet again for long time. Long enough that the storm passes, leaves them suspended in the deadened aftermath, until Buck’s voice breaks the silence. “I don’t think I can do it, Eddie.”

Eddie leans back and meets Buck’s wide, terrified eyes. “No one will force you, Buck. Athena will understand if you say no, but I think - I think you’ll regret it, if you don’t.”

Buck looks at him for a long time, quietly contemplating his words. Eddie brushes a hand down his neck, feels his pulse racing against his fingertips.

“You’re right,” Buck says at last, so quiet Eddie almost doesn’t hear him. “I have to, I - for him. For - for Bobby.”

Eddie wonders if it’s the first time he’s said his name out loud since it happened, since he called Eddie and told him through splintering sobs.

“I’ll be right there the whole time,” Eddie promises, holding Buck’s face carefully with one hand. “You’re not alone, Buck. Just keep your eyes on me while you’re up there, if it’s too much.”

Buck nods, tears in his eyes again, and tucks his face in Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s shirt is damp by the time Buck has cried himself out, same as the pillow under Eddie’s cheek. He takes a peek at his watch and sees it’s barely 8:30, though it feels like it’s been hours since he first laid next to Buck.

“How long until you have to go back to El Paso?” Buck asks, and it shreds him to pieces.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I pulled Chris out of school for a week. But his spring break is the week after, so we-we have time.”

He doesn’t tell him that he’ll stay as long as Buck needs, though the words sit heavy as a boulder in his throat, aching to get out. He can’t promise that, even with everything in him screaming that he needs to stay. He can’t voice his suspicion that Chris might want to stay once he’s here, can’t tell him that he’s been hinting at wanting to move back for weeks. He can’t afford to give himself or Buck any false hope when they’re hanging on by a thread.

“Did you eat today?” Eddie asks quietly, changing the subject before he cracks.

Buck nods. “A little. Maddie and Chim brought lunch and stayed with me until they had to pick up Jee.”

“Why don’t I make us something?” Eddie says. “Maybe some soup, a sandwich if you can manage?”

Buck nods again, forehead knocking into Eddie’s chin. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Eddie gets up, expecting Buck to stay in bed while he makes the food, but Buck follows and all but plasters himself to Eddie’s back as he digs out two cans of chicken noodle soup and starts heating them on the stove. Eddie lets him, and leans back into Buck’s chest when he feels him hesitate to touch Eddie again. Buck rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder while the soup heats; Eddie sits him at the table while he makes the sandwiches and switches on the lamps, suffusing the room with soft light. He finds one of Buck’s hoodies and helps him shrug it on, because he’s still so cold, even with Eddie wrapping himself around him every spare moment.

They eat on the couch, Buck almost in Eddie’s lap with how closely he presses against him. Buck manages to finish his soup and eats most of the sandwich, which Eddie counts as a win.

He doesn’t know what tomorrow holds. Doesn’t know how Buck will handle the funeral proceedings, how he will handle them. He’s lived with grief for years, sees her now as an old friend that won’t give up the ghost and leave him be, and now he has another lining up to haunt him. Another person he failed, leaving him with so much love and memory and nowhere to put it, waiting for the day it overflows and chokes him.

What he does know is that he has Buck - he has his son, and his family. That the love he has for the man pressed against his shoulder will still be there in the morning and for the rest of his life. That as long as there is breath in his body he won’t let Buck disappear, that none of them will. That tomorrow he will celebrate Bobby’s life and mourn with those who loved him best, that they will heal together.

Buck’s head falls heavily on his shoulder, and he knows they will be okay.

——

prompts ❤️

[etherealily]

𝕊𝕀ℕ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that I converted into a bonus chapter.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content. MDNI for this part alone. Closest thing to sm*t I've ever written (and will write).

Part 1 : Whiplash Part 2 : 9 Lives Part 3 : Blessed Part 4 : Shards Part 5 : Eighteen

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

Nate had never been more pissed in his life. Ever. You'd blatantly disobeyed him. Well, not technically. No technically, you hadn't been told anything, but he'd have figured you weren't so dense as to go and visit Shane motherfucking Crestin in the motherfucking ER !

Honestly. It's like you had one braincell and all it told you was to piss him off.

And fuck him. He definitely saw that in your eyes the last time.

Or was that the molly?

Probably the molly.

But whatever. The fact was, you wanted to fuck him, and he wanted to fuck you, and he had no idea why you wanted him out of your life if that was the case. Wasn't that fate? Two people want something so bad, they should end up doing it, no? Not going and visiting the reason they couldn't do it in the ER.

Yeah, he decided.

Yes. They. Should.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

He'd figured you would avoid him like the plague, anyway. So he didn't care if it reached you or not that he was helping McKay host a party. So imagine his surprise when, after about two months of no contact, you showed up at his party.

"Whoa."

You frowned. "Excuse me?'

"What happened to 'get the fuck out of my life, Nate?' What, were you just full of it?"

"Dude. If me being here bothers you that much, I'll just fucking leav-"

"Jeez, don't be a baby, short stuff.", he cooed, patting your head before slinging an arm around you. "C'mon, let's do shots."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, none of this friendliness."

He rolled his eyes, removing his hand from you. "Fine. C'mon. I missed you."

And the problem was, he did. He actually fucking missed you. Which was the weirdest thing to happen to him since... well, birth. It wasn't anything in particular, it wasn't even the fact that you were easy on the eyes.

He, like a fucking simp, just liked you being around him.

With as much trepidation as a sycophant scorned by his master, he gently, reverently, offered you a shot. "For old times' sake?"

You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. "For old times' sake? Like, the time you got me drunk at school?'

He smiled, his hand slowly back around your shoulder as he tugged you closer, kissing your temple. "We could always go back, y'know?", he murmured next to your ear. "Get high on the bleachers again."

"No."

"C'mon, we haven't hung out in two months. Ditch these fakes. I'm the fun one, anyway."

Jesus.

He took a long drag of his vape, the smoke bombarding your face. He proferred it to you and frowned when you declined. "Why not?"

"I don't vape."

"Are you one of those bitches that says 'smoke a real cigarette'?"

"No, I don't smoke at all."

He rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bleachers."

It was weird, to say the least, the air between you two back at the bleachers. You sat, looking up at the sky, the grass, anywhere but his eyes, and he sat with his head on your lap.

Silence covered the two of you until he sighed. "Can we just pick up where we left off?"

"And where was that?"

"With me almost eating you out."

You scoffed. You wouldn't have done that if you thought he was being serious. You wouldn't have done that if you were entirely sober. But you didn't and you weren't, so you scoffed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm not joking. You're making this harder than it needs to be. There isn't any ulterior motive, this is just... boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy-"

"Debatable.", you muttered, but he ignored it.

"-Boy wants to fuck girl, girl wants to fuck boy, boy fucks girl. Why are you adding shit? Do you want drama? Is that what this is? Because we could do drama. I could do drama like you've never fucking seen before!"

In Nate speak, that meant he had a big dick and he wanted you to know.

"Look. It's just too complicated. You've- there's too much-"

"Forget it all. 'Kay? Just you and me.", he replied immediately, sitting up.

"Because you quote-unquote 'love' me."

"Exactly that." His lips found yours, and surprisingly, this time, you actually had a spine and pulled away.

"What the FUCK?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and stroked your cheek as he shifted and knelt down. "Can we skip the part where you scream 'what the fuck, what the fuck' and push me away and get to the part where you admit you want me? I've had a long day."

Seeing him down there did nothing to make you feel safer.

"Nate-"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, please, just, for the love of god-", he muttered, as if you were being an inconvenience at the moment and not him, the asshat on his knees. "Would you just relax?"

"Look, Y/N. I love you.", he said, and his hands slowly slid up to the hem of your shirt, his thumb rubbing the skin right under it. "Let me show you."

"You don't love me. Stop saying that."

"Fine, then. I want you. And stop telling me you don't want me, like it's a mortal sin or something.", he warned, gripping the backs of your thighs.

Sadly, you couldn't entirely blame this on the molly this time.

It definitely contributed to the decision, but mostly to the fact that it made every single touch of his explode with a robust... flavour that you couldn't replicate even if you tried.

He smiled up at you so softly you'd think he was on his knees to propose. But no. Instead of opening up a little box, he opened the fly to your pants.

"Can you look at me, please?"

You sighed, looking down. "What?"

"You really don't look like you're against this. I'd even go so far as to say you want me, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it."

You did want him. BUT. You were against this. Because it was wrong. But you were letting him kiss up your thighs, bite at your lower abdomen.

Meaning it was the world according to Nate and it both infuriated you and turned you on.

FUCK.

Hums came from both your mouth and his, and before you knew it, your fingers felt nothing but the locks of his hair, pulling so hard there was no way he wasn't in pain. And he must have been, because gently, so seamlessly, he trailed his hand up to yours, removing it from his hair and interlocking it with his own.

But he didn't pause. His tongue continued doing... well, whatever the hell it was doing that made you want to stab the Earth for being able to produce Nate Jacobs as well as praise it for... well, being able to produce Nate Jacobs.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, breathless, raising a brow in incredulity.

You'd be lying if you said your brain even registered his question - registered anything but his tongue and lips.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Why? Don't tell me this is still a test to see if I'm easy or not-"

"It's not.", he assured, reaching up slowly, and then kissing your cheek of all fucking places. One of his hands trailed back down and into you while the other one immediately closed your mouth, though you had no idea why. It was a fucking desolate high school football field. No one was going to hear anyway.

He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours as he added another finger, curling them as he worked into you. "Shh, shh, shh.", he murmured, after probably feeling the results of you trying not to lose your shit beneath his palm.

"See? We go great together."

You screamed. But it didn't quite carry.

He frowned in confusion for a moment when you made a muffled noise and then muttered an 'ah' as he gently removed his palm from your mouth.

"That's not..."

"Hm? That's not what?"

You could have killed yourself right there, because he smirked is what he did. He smirked when you couldn't finish (and barely even start) your sentences.

"That's not even remotely..."

You were stalling. That was clear. Why? You didn't know. There was no logical reason. He was already fucking inside you, there was no point in backing out of this now.

But there was reason to hesitate.

He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head in disappointment, brushing hair from your face. "Hey."

"What?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will lose my shit. I will cut myself. I will play Russian Roulette again. That work for you?"

Oh, this sick, sick, sick, SICK motherfucker.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

Why you did it? Question for the ages.

You should've said no. You should've gone home. You didn't go home, though, not even after the fact. You probably should have.

Instead, you found yourself back at Fezco's store. Not voluntarily, either, it just seemed your car was as drained as you were, and you forgot to fill it back up.

"Rue?", you called out into what you imagined to be an abyss. Her voice appeared like light at the end of a tunnel. "Hey."

"You high?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need someone to pick me up."

"Maddy's not free?"

"I didn't check."

"Well.", she groaned, shifting around, clearly in some sort of drug-induced discomfort, "You should. I don't wanna kill you, y'know, you mean so fucking much to me."

The sarcasm in her voice was mildly hurtful, but hey. At least she cared enough not to kill you.

More than Nate had ever cared.

"Okay."

So, of course, you called Cassie. Because no fucking way were you calling Maddy to come pick you up from the store owned by the local dealer, which was suspiciously close to the party thrown by her ex.

The car ride with her was smooth and lovely and peaceful. Because she was smooth and lovely and peaceful.

"You think your car will be safe, out there, all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I told Fez. He knows what to do."

"Y/N, I... I've noticed you've been off, like, the last term or so."

You did not need her therapy session right now.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You're not.", she chuckled, nervously, shaking her head as she slowed down at the red light. "You seem on edge. I think it's cause of him."

"Him?" WHAT? How the fuck did this ditz know?

"Yeah. Like, I don't know, maybe you're in love with him, and you think it's, like... forbidden, because he's a bad influence or something, but you just kinda look... strung out. Like there's a huge secret you're keeping."

She was supposed to be clueless about what was going on around her. Isn't that the thing they say about hot blondes?

"Love? In love? With who?"

"Fezco, of course. I get it, he's a dealer, but he's also hot, and I guess, let's face it, he's quite nice for a criminal."

Oh, thank god. The dumb blonde theory stands.

"I'm not in love with Fez."

"Then why are you so... off?"

"I...", you sighed, deciding to stick to the truth as much as safely possible. "I got in with some bad people during spring break."

The look of concern on her face made you want to apologize and buy her whatever she wanted, or maybe even confess to every fucking sinful thought you'd ever had.

"What? Oh, my god, what? Like, hard drugs and shit?"

"More like guns and shit."

"Y/N, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, it was fucked up, but I'm out of it now, though, so you don't have to worry, okay, Cass? I'm peachy. I'm great, honest! Hey, it's turning amber."

She frowned, turning back to the road in front of her. "You sure?"

You'd never been more grateful for Nate throwing the lamp to your right rather than your left.

You'd never been more grateful for Nate giving you a hickey on your right rather than your left.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

"So. Did you... you went to his party, right? Did you see him? Did you guys talk?"

It took you a moment to figure out that she was talking about her ex.

"McKay? Yeah. Yeah."

"How is he? Did he mention me?"

"He's, um... he's doing fine, I guess. He looks like he misses you, but you know him. He probably won't tell me."

"I just... maybe we... I just want to, um... fix things."

"You should."

"You think?"

You nodded. What the fuck else could you do to distract her from the fact that if she took one look down, she'd see Nate blowing up your phone? "Yeah, you guys were great together."

You instantly cringed. Because that was what Nate had said about you and him. "See? We go great together."'

"I don't know if I want him back, or what. What do you think?"

That I just fucked Nate Jacobs. And that the molly was only half of it. That I'm going to kill myself.

"I think... I think you broke up for a reason, Cass."

She nodded, and the rest of the car ride went in pleasant silence.

Then she dropped you home.

And Rue was waiting for you.

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

"You're pissing me off. What is this, blackmail?'

"Yeah. It is. I saw you two in the bleachers, and if you tell people I'm not sober, I'll let it slip that you let Nate Jacobs inside you."

Keep your calm. If you show even a tiny sign of accepting that she was right, you're dead meat. "It was a psych project. He had just finished a practice, so we sat there and finished some work."

"With tequila?"

Silence. Okay. She was not talking about tonight. She was talking about the gun-night. This was salvageable.

"Funnily enough, Y/N, according to what Lexi told me, there's been no 'psych assignment-slash-project.'"

"Rue-"

"So you've not only been lying to all of us, you've been betraying Maddy. And you've done Jules so wrong.'

"Look, you don't even know-"

"Then tell me."

So you did. You told her about the Instagram story, you told her about the Russian roulette, hell, you even told her about the dinner and the scar. What you didn't tell her about was the sex. The mind-blowing guilt-inducing sex.

"But I saw you kiss him on the bleachers."

"I was drunk, Rue. I'd have let the fucking janitor kiss me."

"Look, Y/N, those are my terms."

"You're asking me to lie to everyone about your health, your wellbeing! We're all looking out for you, Rue! Y'can't just blackmail me into not doing right by you."

"As nice as that is, the fact still stands that you fucked Nate."

FUCK!

"Rue, please-"

"He doesn't even fucking want you. He wants to get back at Maddy, and you're too fucked out to see it!"

"Rue, you're crossing the li-"

"I bet that fucking him was the only thing you've been doing this whole time. What, did you fuck him when Maddy was with him?"

Rue laughed after you slapped her and that definitely told you she was so high she couldn't even feel it. "C'mon. Grow up.", she scoffed, tucking hair behind your ear. "Girl code's not important anymore, is it? We're all eighteen - adults - now."

WHY must everyone always do that with your hair? So fucking condescendingly, too?!

"Rue, I didn't fuck Nate Jacobs."

"Then why is he blowing up your phone? Yeah, you think I didn't notice the name on your screen?"

"He blows up my phone because he's a psycho- I told you about the Russian Roulette thing and the gun and the slit wris-"

"Yeah, but you said you asked him to leave you alone and he did. Why would he break no contact? What could've happened?"

"Rue, I am not going to help you fake sobriety in front of your family- I- Rue, what is that?"

She frowned, looking down and following your line of sight. Her bag. The front zip. A needle. She looked back up, deadpan. "Fent."

"RUE! YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME T-"

"Look, Y/N, I like you, I do. There's no reason for you to worry, okay? If you could be quiet, your life will go on as it always does. No reputation loss, no guilt, no embarrassment."

"This will kill you! I can't do that to you, Rue, please!"

"But you can do Nate Jacobs?"

You were genuinely about to strangle this fucking trapper cunt.

"Think about it."

What, had she gotten lessons in blackmail from him?

════════════════════ ⋆🚩⋆ ════════════════════

That night, you were too fucking exhausted to even question why Nate was knocking at your window. You just opened it for him. You just let him kiss you. You just let him tuck your hair behind your fucking ear.

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you visit Shane in the hospital?"

Okay. No way he could have found out about that. You didn't tell a single fucking soul.

"Huh?"

"I beat him up for you. 'Cause he was saying you fucked when you didn't.", he said, his voice oddly calm for a man betrayed.

"I didn't ask you to!"`

"Please.", he scoffed, clapping sarcastically. "Biggest cop-out of the century."

"I didn't!"

"He was calling you a slut, basically. As if you'd just give it up to anyone." What, like he knew you that well?

"Hundreds of people say hundreds of shit about me every fucking day! What am I, supposed to set you on them?"

"You could."

You scoffed.

"I'm being serious. You could say "'sic 'em' " and I'd beat them to a bloody pulp.", he informed, brushing hair over your ear again. "Say it. Tell me someone to beat up. I'll do it. No matter who it is."

"Nate. I didn't ask you to do any of this. I asked you to leave me alone, and you did the opposite!"

"You're acting like I showed up, fucked you, and then just left!"

He clenched his jaw, his grip on the piece of hair he just pushed behind your ear, now shifting to the rest of your hair. "No, cunt. I said 'I love you'. Or did you conveniently forget that?"

Oh. Right. THAT.

"What? You're suddenly acting like a pussy, baby, what's up with that? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Don't be a pussy. C'mon, tell me. Oh, yeah, wait a minute, you can't."

"You didn't mean that. You wanted to get what you wanted, so you-"

"You think I say shit like 'I love you' lightly? You think I throw that word around?" Yes, he did, but you didn't need to know that. He decided to deploy the trauma card.

"You've seen what my parents are like. You think I'd abuse the words 'I love you'?"

"I guess not-"

"Yeah. EXACTLY."

Ooh, you were putty in his hands and he almost got a semi because of it.

"Look, okay, fine, Nate, that- that was out of pocket, but you can't expect me to-"

"But I do. I have never lied to you. Have I? I've blackmailed you and threatened you and, fuck, yeah, I've stuck a goddamn gun down your throat, but when have I ever lied?"

"So you're saying you 'love' me and I have to just accept it."

"I'm saying I love you, and you have to just believe it.'

And god help you, you somehow did.

"Rue's blackmailing me."

He mock-gasped. "You're cheating on me, then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Him being so calm in the face of danger should make him look foolish in your eyes, not admirable.

And the molly excuse was being held up by string the breadth of dental floss, honestly.

"Does she use firearms as well? Did you think about me the whole time?" He was clearly trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

He kissed your forehead. "What did she blackmail you for?"

"For or about?"

"Both."

"For : keeping her relapse a secret from everyone. About : the gun-night at the bleachers."

"Okay, so the choice is clear."

"What?"

Nate Jacobs had scared you when he'd said he loved you and when he'd said he'd kill himself for you, but he'd never scared you as much as he did with what he said next.

"We just sit back and watch that bitch OD."

[echochqmber]

@here4hualian kissmas day 5: kissing the cursed shackles

Xie Lian is bathing himself in the river when he notices the little ghost fire.

He calls out to it. "Hello? Do you need anything?"

Xie Lian doesn't feel particularly concerned about his modesty. Maybe it's the fact that the ghost fire doesn't have visible eyes to watch him with, even if it is hovering rather intently.

"Are you alright?" Xie Lian tries.

The ghost fire finally responds. "I'm fine. Dianxia doesn't need to worry about me."

Xie Lian is too tired to deal with how being recognized makes him feel. "Did you want to use the river? I don't mind sharing."

Slowly, the ghost fire drifts over, although it makes to movements towards the water. It just hovers next to Xie Lian, giving off a faint blue glow.

Subconsciously, Xie Lian scratches at his cursed shackle. It's been hurting all day. Ah, that's probably how the ghost fire recognized him. Word of his banishment and the punishment he received has spread quickly through the mortal realm.

"Does it hurt?" the ghost fire asks, and Xie Lian startles.

"Ah, it's nothing, really."

The ghost sinks lower towards the water, and Xie Lian is reminded of the way a human might pout. Perhaps it was looking to emphasize? Who better could understand pain than someone who has experienced death?

"I tried to use my spiritual powers today," Xie Lian tells it. "This thing has been squeezing at me ever since. It's only a little painful, don't worry. I've felt way worse."

"Is there anything this one can do to help?"

"Unless you have some spiritual energy to lend me." Xie Lian means it as a joke.

The ghost fire takes it seriously.

It floats upwards, flying over to Xie Lian's neck. The sensation of cold flames on his bare skin tickles, and chills rise down Xie Lian's spine.

And then, there's a tendril of energy flowing into him. It's small, barely there at all, but to Xie Lian, who hasn't had anything like it in so long, it may as well be an ocean of power.

It feels almost like a kiss, the way the ghost fire is transferring it.

After a moments, Xie Lian pulls away. His cheeks are slightly flushed. "You'll burn yourself out if you give me too much, silly thing. You really didn't need to do that."

"But I wanted to. Does it still hurt?"

Xie Lian pauses. Because... "No. It doesn't. I... thank you."

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

sending bf! seventeen boomer! new year's greetings 🎊 :

[gojos-version]

Oh my baby he looks so happy…

[hallofskz]

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[muqingfx]

can you write mu qing being nursed back to health against his wishes please. he would never admit it even if it meant dying (cough.. mt tonglu lava scene.. cough) so it's what he deserves

anon didnt specify for ships, so i did what any normal person would do. four of them. whether its platonic or romantic is totally up to you!

"Let. Me," Mu Qing struggles against Xie Lian's vice-like grip with gritted teeth, "go." He swings his fist to land a blow on his friend's jaw in an attempt to break free, but his punch is deterred by yet another nuisance.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing hisses, vision still blurry. If it weren't for Xie Lian’s hold on him, Mu Qing would have shamefully collapsed head-first into the dirt.

“Mu Qing,” he hears Xie Lian say softly, “you just need some rest.”

“You don't get to strangle me!” Mu Qing retaliates, kicking and screaming like a child.

From beside him, he hears Feng Xin click his tongue. “We’re not fucking strangling you. And if you weren't so fucking difficult–”

“Just leave me alone!” Mu Qing finally manages to shove them both away. Are his eyes playing tricks on him again or is he swaying on his feet? “Why can't you just… let me be?” he catches himself asking before tumbling to the ground.

“Bloody rascal, how on earth did this happen?”

“I think they used a spell to weaken his body. His spiritual powers are still depleted–if might take a while for it to rise up again on it’s own, San Lang.”

“Then, what does gege suggest we do?”

Mu Qing winces when something wet presses against his abdomen. His eyes flutter open, yet all he sees is solid darkness.

“He’s waking up!” he hears Feng Xin say. “Mu Qing, can you hear me?"

Of course I can hear you, oaf, is what Mu Qing tries to say, but his voice catches at his throat.

A cold palm presses against his forehead and Mu Qing wants nothing more than to slap it off.

“He’s burning up.” Hua Cheng. The hand moves further down his face, fingertips brushing against his eyelids. There’s a brief moment of utter vulnerability, as if Mu Qing is giving up his soul for another. But then his vision clears, and he sees three very different expressions on familiar faces.

Xie Lian’s temple is creased, his mouth downturned as he stares at Mu Qing’s face. And upon glancing down, he sees Xie Lian’s hand squeezing his own. A face of unhidden concern; pity. Something dark brews inside him as he processes that–being a damsel in distress, the General of the Southwest. Ridiculous.

Feng Xin is kneeling on the mat beside him, a damp cloth in his hand. His thick brows are furrowed as he scowls at Mu Qing. Strands of brunette hair fall over his face, his usually somewhat-neat bun now undone. He looks tired, annoyed. At Mu Qing. For what, wasting his time? For being so infirm and demanding attention? Nobody asked him to take care of Mu Qing, that imbecile.

And then there's the beast of a man, Hua Cheng. Hands folded across his chest, he looks as nonchalant as ever. His eyes sear into Mu Qing, bored and degrading.

Mu Qing feels the headache he had woken up with aggravate.

“Why am I being gawked at like some pathetic critter?” It comes out coarse and rough, his throat still aching and sore.

“Pathetic, indeed,” Hua Cheng sneers.

A knot tightens in his gut, the humiliation finally settling in. Gathering the strength to do so, Mu Qing lifts himself so his elbows support his weight. A sharp pain surges through him and both Xie Lian and Feng Xin scramble to grasp his arms, preventing the demeaning fall.

“Careful, Mu Qing,” Xie Lian chides. His fingers dig into Mu Qing’s skin–wait, where are his clothes?!

As if reading his mind, Feng Xin says, “Your clothes are ruined. Covered in fucking blood. We took it off so we could dress your wounds. Which are fucking bad, by the way.”

“Fuck you guys, that doesn't mean you can strip me of my robes. I’m not a doll.”

He feels Xie Lian’s hold on him weaken, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes–did Mu Qing go too far?

“I don't mean–I… that's not. What I. You know. I’m–”

The bed dips on his right, and Mu Qing trails off. From his peripheral vision, he sees Hua Cheng taking off his own upper robe.

“If you're so uncomfortable,” he says casually, “you can put this on, general.” The ghost king drapes his red upper robe over Mu Qing’s shoulder, and his touch is so gentle, so tender, Mu Qing actually trembles.

“Cold?” he asks, right into Mu Qing’s ear. Mu Qing’s head tips forward to bypass Hua Cheng’s warm–how is it warm when he’s dead–breath. When he glances up, he locks eyes with Xie Lian, who pouts with his eyes wide like a deer’s.

“We’re not strangers.” his palms cup Mu Qing’s cheeks, and he finds himself leaning towards the touch. “We’re your friends.”

“Yeah, jackass. Stop pushing us away with every inch of your fucking life. It’s fucking annoying,” Feng Xin just has to add.

Mu Qing turns his head to glare, but Feng Xin smiles like a maniac instead of glaring right back. It’s fond and adoring and completely unlike him.

Hua Cheng scoffs from beside him. “It’s really not that hard to let yourself be spoiled, just for a little bit. You're too hard on yourself, Xuan Zhen.”

“Fucking hate to agree with Hua Cheng,” he hears Feng Xin mutter.

“Ugh…” Mu Qing hides his face with his hands, embarrassed. He’s sure he looks nothing less than a tomato.

Xie Lian’s chuckle fills the air and Mu Qing thinks that maybe this isn't so bad.

This is nice.

He might not want this again, or he definitely will want this again.

[suiana]

Hello!!! Would yan government official scold a y/n who likes candies and sweets? He strikes me as the type to prohibit eating desserts before dinner lmao

(yandere! government official x gn! reader) (short drabble)

"sweetheart no-"

"yes!"

you yell through a mouth full of candies, glaring at him as you shove as many sweets as you can into your mouth. seriously, he had prohibited you from sweets for about a week now! you swear you were going to go crazy from the lack of sugar!

"darling please stop. you're going to get sick if you eat too many."

he sighs, shaking his head at your actions as he confiscates one bag away. you whine, pouting at him as you try to snatch it back, only to be stopped by his hands. his hand grips your wrist, a stern expression on his features as he shakes his head.

"no more. i don't want you to get sick. plus, we haven't eaten dinner yet! no more sweets for you."

you could only muster a whine in response to his words. man this sucks.

[niki-phoria]

I'D GIVE YOU ALL THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE

pairing: xie lian x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff/comfort word count: 472

notes: tgcf has taken over my mind so enjoy some (possibly ooc ??) xie lian nightmare comfort lol, set at puqi shrine before xie lian meets hua cheng, title from the 1975 - i couldn't be more in love

your body jolts upright as you’re forcibly ripped out of your dream. you can feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest. shivers run down your spine as you blink a few times, desperately willing your eyes to adjust to the darkness quicker. 

in your disorientation, you quickly scan the room for any danger. the fabric xie lian had hung up as a makeshift door flaps quietly in the wind. a few stray offerings sit on the edge of a nearby table. a stream of moonlight shines in through a small hole in the roof, illuminating the small shrine just enough for you to make out xie lian’s worried figure staring at you. 

“y/n?” his voice is quiet, as if you’re a small animal that will bolt at the first sight of danger. xie lian pauses for a second as if to search for the right words before finally settling on, “are you alright?”

“yeah,” you breathe. you run a shaky hand through your hair, taking a shallow breath. “i’m fine.”

xie lian doesn’t believe you. he’s smart enough to recognize the signs of anxiety. he’s known you for long enough to know exactly which nightmares plague your dreams. even the exhaustion of traveling for hours on foot isn’t enough to starve off the horrors that live inside of your mind. 

xie lian turns, reaching over to grab his boots. “why don’t i go get you some water? it’s been a while since you had anything to drink.” 

“wait,” your hand catches xie lian’s wrist before you can stop yourself. disguised by the darkness of the night, a flush rises to both of your cheeks. your grip around his hand loosens, but you don’t pull away completely. “stay?” your voice is barely a whisper; it’s all but swallowed by the quiet of the night. “please.”

xie lian’s gaze lingers on your hand for a second before he looks up into your eyes once again. your touch ignites goosebumps along his skin. since the fall of xianle, he had long since forgotten what it felt like to be touched with care. 

despite his reservations, xie lian curtly nods. “alright,” he murmurs, settling down on the straw mat beside you once again. 

the ground is uncomfortable, but it’s nothing you’re not used to. xie lian lays facing you; even with your eyes closed you can feel him studying each of your features. you can feel the mat move slightly as he shuffles closer. he props his head against his arm like a makeshift pillow.

you tense momentarily when xie lian reaches over, gingerly resting his hand on top of your own. despite the cold night, his skin is warm. his fingers gently trace along the grooves of your knuckles. “try to get some sleep,” he whispers. “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !!

[thegirlything]

The softest hair

Characters: Hua Cheng x Gn!Reader

Soft, silky, smooth.

Sometimes you really asked yourself how he was doing it.

Staring at the man slumped over the throne in Paradise Hall, you shook your head.

You had asked if you could give him a new hairstyle, since his hair was getting long and it seemed fun.

But you got lost in how soft his hair was.

His hair wasn’t even supposed to feel real and yet somehow, he had the softest hair you’ve ever felt.

It was almost frustrating how perfect Hua Cheng’s hair seemed to be.

His eyes were closed, humming contently as your fingers combed through his hair.

You twirled a strand of it around your finger, mesmerized.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Your lips were pressed tight, eyes squinted.

Why did his hair have to be so perfect?

Hua Cheng’s laugh filled Paradise Hall. He adjusted his position, cracking his eye open and looking at you.

“Whatever do you mean my sweet?” His voice was deep, soft and a serious threat to your ability to breathe.

You could feel your cheeks burning up and he hadn’t even said anything… bad!

You hated how much he affected you. A smirk. A few soft words. And every time it caused your brain to just stop…

Your infatuation with this man was going to kill you one day, you were sure of it.

“Your hair. It’s so soft! And silky!” You averted your eyes from the long-haired man. The ground suddenly so much more interesting than before.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. His smirk made you forget what you were asking him before anyways.

Hua Cheng leaned into your touch again, eyes closed and enjoying your warm touch.

“Is that why you’ve been combing through my hair for the last two hours?”

Your cheeks burned as you slapped his shoulder lightly.

He really was the worst.

But at least he was your worst.

[velidewrites]

thinking very hard about crying in front of sylas tonight. need to sob into his giant tits while he gets all big and scary and protective of me :/

You're suddenly enveloped by a fur cloak.

Sylas pulls you into his arms, the thick coat descending from his shoulders onto your own. This, you realize, is the very first time the two of you have ever stood so close — had you not sought him out in his war tent tonight, you might never have known the warmth radiating from his body, as if that fire simmering within him was as desperate for your touch as you are for its master.

He holds you in his arms with a strength that is gentle yet... reluctant. It makes you want to writhe against him until your bodies are welded into one at last, shattering that last bit of uncertainty, of hesitation, of the cold, cruel war that has so desperately been trying to drive you two apart. Somehow, he's always been able to find his way back to you.

Tonight, you finally managed to find him instead.

The featherlight touch of the fur against your cheek tingles, making you half-turn, burying your face into his chest subconsciously. You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch at the proximity, and a heat of your own begins to rise in your cheeks at your own boldness. The last time he'd tensed up beneath you like that, it was with the tip of your sword teasing his sternum, not your nose. How far the two of you had come.

He must be realizing it, too, as you feel his shoulders fall an inch, the broad hand on your waist moving to smooth over your lower back. He pulls you in closer, close enough now that you feel his breath brush against your temple before he rests his chin atop your head. Not once, in all those months on the opposing sides of the battlefield, did you ever imagine Sylas Vanserra like this. Let alone with you.

It dawns on you then that he's probably never comforted anyone this way — had never been comforted like that by another, at least not at a time when it would have mattered most. For a moment, the very thought makes you forget your own reasons for finding yourself in his tent in the first place, forget the nightmare that made you walk through the camp on shaky legs in the dead silence of the night. Sylas is holding you, and he's...

You dare to speak. "Sylas?"

"I'm here."

The response comes immediately, and it takes all the strength you have left to keep your body from melting into his own. Sylas's voice carries a rasp that makes you think — makes you hope — he's not the only one holding back.

"You're very good at this," you tell him, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest.

A small scoff sounds from above, and you can't help but let out a small chuckle.

"You make my compliment sound like an insult," you point out.

There's only a beat of silence between you before he finally says, "It's not."

You sigh, content. It's as if the sound of his voice had somehow dissipated all the tension in your body and quietened the raging storm of your sleepless mind. "I'm glad you think so." You turn your face to the side again, then, letting your cheek rest right above his heart — right where you know a horrible scar begins, twisting his skin into patterns of flames rising all the way up to his neck. He hides it, even without the bronze plates of his armor, and he hides it well. But you know — know he hates himself for it, and you've seen enough to understand who truly is the one at fault. Even if Sylas himself does not.

"Like this, I can hear your heart," you murmur, hoping its strong, if not a little rapid beat resonates with your own. Perhaps then, the two of you will finally sleep.

You might already be drifting away — or maybe his question is barely audible enough for you to catch, buried under the warm embrace of the furs. "What is my heart telling you?"

You smile.

"I think it's agreeing with me."

[potatoplace]

Officially Yours

💖 Valentine's Collection 2025: Marriage 💖

Azris x Reader

Summary: It's your wedding day, and you couldn't be more excited!

Warnings: none! ☺️

Words: 1091

Author's Note: and here it is! The last fluffy drabble in this collection 🥹 my heads a lil weird rn so idk how much sense this makes BUT I think it's cute ☺️ I hope you guys like it! 🫶 Read it on AO3!

18+ only pls

🤍💙🤍🧡🤍

Music played, the gentle notes drifting across the temple and flowing through the doorway, passing into your ears. Your song, the song meant to signal for all to rise and watch as you glide down the aisle towards your beloveds.

Excitement coursed through your veins, butterfly wreaking havoc with your stomach as your ladies fluffed out your train one last time, double checking that your veil was secured.

Your father coughed from beside you, drawing your gaze to his beaming face.

“My darling daughter, you have no idea what an honor it is to present your hand in marriage today,” he started tearily. “I love you, and know that there is always a home for you in Summer, no matter the reason.”

Your own eyes felt a bit misty as you gave him the last hug you would give before being married. “I love you too, papa,” you murmured against his shoulder, careful not to smear your lipstick on your veil. As soon as you pulled away, one of your ladies huffed and straightened your veil, earning a huff of amusement from you.

Your father extended his arm to you. “Let’s get to it, Y/N.”

You grasped his arm eagerly, your other hand clutching your bouquet tightly. “Lead the way,” you whispered as the door in front of you opened, revealing the tightly packed temple, a large aisle lined with floating balls of flame running down the middle, leading straight to…

Your breath caught in your throat and you nearly stumbled at seeing Eris and Azriel standing before the altar in the Autumn Court finery, looking more breathtaking than you had ever seen them.

A smile broke over your face at the sight, and you paid no mind to the hundreds of fae watching you every move, your eyes and mind only for your loves.

You and your father stopped just before the pair, and he turned you towards him to lift your veil over your head. You turned back to the altar, a blush rising to your cheeks when you saw the sheer awe and reverence in hazel and amber eyes.

Your father took his seat as you stepped forward, joining your loves in front of the altar, standing between them.

The priestess behind the altar raised her hands, calling for silence.

“Today, we join our High Lord with his chosen lovers, our soon to be Lord and Lady of Autumn. As is customary, the bride will present an essence of life in our wonderous court as a token to the vibrant life you will lead, and the bridegroom will present riches that represent the wealth of love and happiness your lives will hold. The High Lord will then incinerate the offerings, so that the Mother may give you her blessing.”

Your eyes were shining with tears as you went through the motions you’d practiced so much over the past week, placing your bouquet in the shallow dip on the altar and swirling a lit stick of incense around it as you’d been instructed to by Eris’s mother, Althea.

Azriel’s offering was next, a glittering handful of sapphires, rubies, and diamonds, followed by a siphon that he’d pried out of his armor last night as you watched. More incense was lit and swirled over the offerings before Eris snapped his fingers, a flame appearing atop them.

In the next moment the offerings were lit, a bright, blazing fire that warmed you to your core. Within a minute they were reduced to ashes, leaving the three of you softly smiling at each other, proof that the Mother approved of your love.

You said your vows, promises of protecting the Court that you were now to help rule and to be ever faithful and loyal to your loves - the easiest promises you ever had to make.

Azriel and Eris kissed first, your mind working to memorize the exact way that their lips pressed together, how they both let their eyes shut for the tiniest second before remembering where they were, the softness in their expressions when they pulled back from each other.

Then the priestess instructed Eris to turn to you, his amber eyes burning brightly with love as he closed the gap between you, his lips pressing so softly to yours it left you breathless.

Last but most definitely not least, Azriel’s lips met yours gently, a stray shadow tangling itself in the hair at the base of your neck how one of his hands usually would.

You reluctantly pulled yourself from him, a small gasp leaving your lips as you felt a golden mark burn itself into your left ring finger, definitive proof that you belonged to them, and they belonged to you.

Cheers erupted through the temple as the priestess let golden sparks fly from her fingertips, signaling that the ceremony had been successful.

Your focus was solely on your husbands, taking in the happiness and love in their eyes as they led you to the reception hall, each of them grasping one of your arms tightly.

Azriel pulled your chair back for you, while Eris helped you arrange your long train so that it wouldn’t get torn before they took their seats on either side of you.

“Have a told you how beautiful you look?” Eris whispered into your ear after the first course was served, a delicate blush rising to your cheeks.

“Not today, I don’t think,” you replied quietly, giggling when one of Azriel’s shadows brushed against your cheek in an attempt to move your gaze to him. “Yes, Azzie?”

“You look positively radiant tonight, bunny,” he murmured before pressing his lips to yours.

“Thank you both,” you said tearily. “I love both of you so much.”

“And I love you too, Y/N,” Azriel replied, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“And I’m sure that you know by now, my Lady, that I love you greatly,” Eris said as he wrapped an arm around you. “Now, I’m requesting that you eat some of your dinner, as I plan on spending the entire night on the dance floor with the two of you.”

A smile broke over your face at the idea of dancing the night away with your husbands!

“I suppose I can do that, High Lord,” you giggled, enjoying the heat that rushed into his amber eyes at your words.

Tonight would be a long night, you were sure, first on the dancefloor, then in the privacy of your now shared quarters in the High Lord’s wing of the Forest House.

🤍💙🤍🧡🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad