#a little longer than a drabble mayhaps

[lullaebies]

GREEN FAMILY PROMPT!

Please, it is possible to get a drabble where Daeron saves Helaena and her children from B&C???

He had a bad feeling, so he's like, "I'm gonna visit mother, sister, and nieces and nephews to see if they are fine," he thinks and then goes to her mother's chambers

Alicent is tied up and gagged, and she begs the gods to help them, her child, her grandchildren, and as Blood or Cheese says: "You heard that boy, your momma wants you dead" to Maelor,Daeron barges in and saves the day.

I need this out of my system after the season 2 finale fiasco :(

a/n: oh bestie i became literally not normal over this prompt. i genuinely may have went crazy with it a bit LOL. it is way longer than a drabble, and a bit on the graphic side, but daeron... daeron best uncle, that i assure. love how this turned out, seriously.

He had been feeling uneasy for days. 

When Aegon had been crowned, Daeron had been summoned to court. He had been excited to come back home, and had been glad to see his older brother glowing as King. Mother, grandsire and Aemond had been quarrelling over the death of Lucerys Strong, but Aegon had shut the divide down for the most part. 

Aegon had been trying his best, and Aemond had a feast for his avenged past. Mother had steeled herself, swallowing her nerves, and Daeron swallowed his wine, drinking with his brothers for the first time in his life.

He very much wanted to find comfort in that. In the hearty laugh of Aegon and Aemond’s pleased smirk. And yet, Daeron had felt anxiety creep upon him. He trained with his uncle Gwayne for this long day because of it, the auburn-haired man trying to snap him out of his worries. 

“You sound like your mother,” his uncle told him. “You and your brothers are boys of true valor. Whatever comes your way, you’ll shut it down, triumphant. You hear me, boy?”

Daeron nodded, but he hadn’t managed to find ease in his shoulders nor his heart. He had been walking around the castle for the entire evening, the unmoving storm clouds in the sky threatening to rain down the red keep. 

Damn it all, he thinks to himself. He feels a child at a time he must be a man, and petulant where he should be collected. He had been on his way to his room, unable to get in the mood to participate in the joys within the mead hall, but he turns on his heel. It is childish, he supposes, to seek his own mother, but he can’t help it. He missed her, and if he sounds like her — shouldn’t that prove that more than all, they should confide in each other?

He barely had her act his mother in his life, but he very much wanted to be her son.

It is a sound choice, he thinks. At these hours, his sister goes with his nephews and niece to see their mother at the Hand’s Tower, to tell the children bedtime stories and kiss them goodnight. Daeron adores the twins, and even more so little Maelor, who plays with Daeron’s rings and cuffs whenever he sees him. Helaena had been a successful mother as she had been a beloved sister to him. Between her and the children he feels much at ease, although sometimes he does feel she acts as if he had been just as tiny as her toddlers.

Mayhaps he’d be able to contribute to the bedtime stories. He had not yet strayed far enough on Tessarion to tell the children his adventures, but the many books in the Hightower had kept him company on days where he had felt lonesome. Princes and Princesses have little they couldn’t receive from the world, but he knows the merriment from a good story could appear on their button nose and full cheeks as they crinkle.

It is not long before he is by the Hand’s tower. For a moment he thinks he should’ve probably bathed before this; he is sweaty in his training garb — Jaehaera is going to tell him he is stinky, no doubt — but then he notices color, from underneath the door, trickling from between the copper-colored bricks of the floor. 

Dark, bloody red, separating in between the creaks of stone. 

“M-Mae.. Mael…” 

Is that his sister? Her voice is in croaks. He hears other voices from the inside, but they are not familiar to him. They’re male, but not childlike, they are gruff and spiteful; scoffing.

“Hear that, little boy? Your mama wants you dead.” 

And realisation hit him. The knots in Daeron’s body and bones, the one that constrained him for these past few nights, release in a burst of flame and make him spring into action. His hand reaches for the grip of his sword while his side slams against the door, forcing it open. 

The blood that seeped out of the room is one of a slain maid he only barely manages to avoid from stomping. There are two men in the room, one tall, mountain-like in figure, and the other hunched, with a blotched face. He had Maelor in his grip, his arm pressing tight on the neck of his younger nephew. 

He finds his mother seized and gagged, tied to a chair, and his sister bruised and shaking like a leaf, her dress torn at the skirt. Jaehaera’s nails dug into the fabric of it, frightened, and Jaehaerys had been painfully held by the shoulder by the giant man that now turned to him. 

“Aren’t you silverlings supposed to be dragons? All I see are helpless skinks,” the man drawls. Jaehaerys almost manages to escape his grip but he catches him by the hair and tosses him towards him to a blotchy man. “Hold the boy, ratcatcher!”

The man begins to pull out a lengthy, heavy sword from its sheath, and the blotched man reaches for Jaehaerys at the cost of dropping Maelor to the floor. Maelor screeches as he hits the floor, Helaena scrambling to get to him and his brother. 

Daeron charges to ram into the man before he could begin to swing. A man like that is too large to allow to wield a weapon and demand distance. While the man recovers from the slam, Daeron slashes at the dirty hand that grabbed at his nephew’s hair. The swing is not long or powerful enough to cut through bone, only flesh. Blood erupts from the man’s thick wrist. He is forced to let go of his sword, and enraged, the man brings his other hand, fisted — and smashes it against Daeron’s face. 

Daeron is knocked to the floor, no better than Maelor, laid underneath that goliath of a man. As his gums bleed, he can hear his sister and her children screaming, and his mother — his mother’s muffled cries from behind him, begging, begging, begging, the cloth that keeps her voiceless to allow her to scream his name. 

No mother should weep, naming her son. No mother would. The bloody iron on his tongue turns him to the very steel he holds in his hand. The accumulation of adrenaline within his belly ignites into a battle cry louder than thunder as the man over him to punch the life out him. Daeron manages to find the strength to lift his sword crookedly, make it an axe, slamming down the man’s head and opening his scalp, cutting right down to the skull.

Blood drips down through the cracks of it, onto Daeron, as the man’s eyes lose light.  The large assassin falls to his side. 

“Fie on the lot you!” The apparent ratcatcher screams watching, looking for something in his pockets, all while trying to steal away with Jaehaerys, dragging the boy by his chin. “Where the fuck is it—”

Jaehaerys, despite the tears in his eyes, finds the courage to open his mouth, and bite. 

The ratcatcher yells in pain, forced to release the boy who rushes back to his mother. Helaena, who is already holding Maelor and Jaehaera in their horror, embraces her eldest back to her, and then lifts her eyes to the blotchy man in front of her. They are flaming violet. 

Daeron manages to get up from underneath the heavy corpse. The ratcatcher seems to want to flee, backing on his heel, but Daeron catches him, bringing an already bloody sword to his throat. 

Finally, all too late, guards arrive at the room, shocked at the scene. Daeron doesn’t let that faze him, and neither does it faze Helaena, who has them speak to her, but her gaze is insistent on the man, while her hold is insistent on the children.

And now, he seems so frail, locked in Daeron’s grip. “Please, wait, I’ve been forced—” he says as Daeron tightens the slit of the sword against his neck. “They told me— they told me to bring the boy’s head. The Prince! The rogue prince, and his worm, they made me! I beg you, your Grace…”

Helaena is still shaking. But unlike the shaking leaves that are her children, she is shaking with rage that drips in tears down her eyes. She picks up something from the floor; a small dagger, which looks better than a butcher’s skinning knife. That is what the scum looked for — a way to kill the boy.

“One word, Helaena,” Daeron tells her. Just one word, and he’ll slit his throat clean.

“Not word, name,” she says, and looks around the room. “And not one. All of them. I want every name of every person who has been a part of this,” she says, and inches closer. “Take him to the dungeons for now, and make him spit every single one.” 

“Your Grace, thank you, thank you..” the ratcatcher nearly weeps as Daeron relents him over to the other guards.

Helaena glares at him and looks at the guards. “And after you believe he is done listing your accomplices, call me. The last name he’ll hear would be his own one, from my lips,” Helaena decrees, and comes closer to the man. “I want you dead.” 

The ratcatcher is dragged away in despair, no less lifeless than the corpses the guards take out of the room.

When they are away, out of sight, Helaena tosses the dagger in her hand into the fireplace of the room, and goes to her children, falling to her knees and wailing loudly with them, over them, kissing their faces with ruptured apologies. 

Daeron watches, in tears himself, when he feels his mother’s hold on his arm. The marks of her formerly bound wrists catch his eye first. “Mother,” he starts, but finds himself croaked, voiceless instead of hers, his limbs helpless instead of hers. “I…” 

“My sweet son,” she says, bringing a hand to his face, wiping the blood by his mouth. She holds him the same way she did when he was no older than his nephew and niece. “My sweet Daeron. I am sorry,” she says, crying. “I am sorry that you had… you have to…” she loses her voice to a raspy weep. 

And he is uneasy, and fretting, like his mother. The apologies on her tongue, for having to be brave at the face of hell on earth, he may have before had been comfortable receiving from her, or his brothers. But no more. He will be no craven when his family is at stake. His mother, anxious as he, had always known they were at stake. 

He won’t let her be scared, nor anyone else. 

“All that comes your way… our way, mother,” he says, holding her tight, letting his tears of stress fall on her shoulder. “I’ll repel, and endure, triumphant. I swear.” 

His mother embraces him close. “My little light,” she coos. “I will never allow it to be otherwise. I love you.”

I love you too, loves his family whole and true. The painful beats of his heart tell him how heavy it had been, knowing a scenario like this has been impending. And never again he would allow it even a chance.

Aegon and Aemond storm into the room, Ser Criston in tow, moving hands touching his face and lips asking him questions. Aegon rushes to his wife and children; the crying Helaena leans entirely into her husband’s hold along with all of their little ones. Aemond and Criston examine him and Alicent, their own rage palpable as they reach over to hold them too. 

When they leave the room, locking the horrors shut behind them, they move to the midst of Maegor’s Holdfast, coming to sit in front of a greater fire with a greater fireplace, awaiting the baths that will allow them to wash away the horrible day.

Daeron sits in the middle, as silence falls between tear-dried faces. To be brave at the face of hell on earth, is not only to be brave within battles to survival, but also force away fright that haunts halls.

“Should…” he opens his mouth tentatively, looking at his nephews and niece who sit at restless adults’ laps. “Should I tell you a story?”

Jaehaera lifts her head to look at him from Alicent’s lap, while Jaehaerys adjusts himself in his father’s hold. Maelor, still deep in his mother’s apologetic embrace, is the one who nods through his sniffles. 

And he finds his comfort again, as a storyteller for his kin. For the many times he may have to swing his sword, may he find himself in this circle of perked ears and crinkling eyes.

[astralnymphh]

seeing a lot of videotaping ellie fics resurface, but i had a random little idea.. should I do a teensy drabble within the same manner— but dina records it? this wouldn't replace my full threesome fic, but you could vicariously pretend that it's a spinoff teaser?? imo.. it's already sounding yummalicous.. and I have a series of other drabbles dropping.. so I just wanna know if this should merge with that collection!

my other promised fics are still coming, but those are way longer than this drabble (fva approaching 4k words kms) so just FYI! i wanted to give you guys stuff that doesn't have so much plot because creating all that is deliberating.

maybe it'll be some kinky tribbing.. idk.. mayhaps. well it's voyeurism, essentially. so!

also just watched love lies bleeding might bust (ellabs thoughts whirring)

[datleggy]

i’m not sure if this is a good prompt but i’d love to see something based off of jealous eddie in the new episode. established relationship with buck reassuring him about how he and taylor are just good friends. maybe getting together with a first kiss. i love all your work, but don’t feel like you need to write this if it doesn’t spark anything. thank you!

so i haven’t had a chance to watch the new episode yet, but i’ve seen gifs of jealous!eddie and it’s given me life lmao so here we go 

Taylor is at the station...again. And that’s fine. Totally fine, Eddie tells himself over and over in his head, as he watches Buck moon over the reporter. 

A week ago Eddie was content with his life and everyone’s place in it. Or so he thought, until he realized exactly why he was so bothered by Taylors presence at the station. All thanks to Chimney and his extraordinarily large mouth. 

Eddie huffs, annoyed just thinking about it. He’d been in the locker room after a long shift, and Buck had run in and changed faster than lightning, barely taking the time to tie his shoelaces. Eddie had asked if he wanted to come over and grab a beer, maybe play some video games with him and Christopher, but Buck had politely declined. “Sorry man, I’ve got plans with Taylor, she’s waiting outside for me. I’ll see you guys Monday! Bye!” He’d waved and sped out of the station before Eddie could so much as think of an appropriate response. 

Chim had laughed and said something that had most definitely struck a nerve, whether he’d intended it to or not. “Hey, cheer up, there’s other fish in the sea.” 

And Eddie had thought in that instance: But I don’t want anyone else. 

The very next day he’d broken things off with Ana. She’d been more confused than anything, initially, wondering if maybe she’d done something wrong, which had prompted Eddie to spill his guts to her about these decidedly romantic feelings he’s been harboring for his best friend. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize, not until last night, or I wouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just--” He’d tried to explain, tongue tied and at a loss. Ana was perfect, after all. Intelligent, a self possessed woman with ambition, good humor; she got along just swell with Christopher, and she was gorgeous to boot. But... 

“Hey,” Ana had taken one of his hands into her own and squeezed gently, comfortingly. “So...this sucks. Because I really do like you Edmundo. A lot. But I am glad you were able to sort your feelings out. I know--especially growing up in a Hispanic household--how difficult it can be to come to that kind of conclusion. Have you...told him, yet?” 

Eddie had shaken his head no, “Um, actually? You’re the first person I’ve told.” 

That had come as a huge surprise to Ana, who, though heartbroken, had still offered a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, in the future. 

Now, a week later, Eddie still hasn’t said a single word of this to anyone else. Not to Hen or Chim, not to his Captain--though sometimes the way Bobby looks over at him makes Eddie think the man knows something--and most definitely not to Buck himself. 

Instead, he departs from the crew, shoulders stiff, irritation spiking, and makes his way to the bunks. Which is where Buck finds him a few minutes later, sulking. 

“You ok?” 

Eddie’s head swivels towards the entrance and he can’t help but frown at the tall figure standing there. It’s all Bucks fault, with the way his hair goes poofy with strawberry curls when it’s humid outside and those dumb contagious too-wide smiles of his and that look on his face when he gets hyped whenever he gets a chance to share any of the million factoids he’s learned--all of it makes Eddie want to rush up to him and kiss his stupid face. 

“Eddie?” And suddenly said face is right in front of his, just inches away, and Buck is waving a concerned hand in front of him. “Earth to Eddie, you alright?” 

Eddie blinks and quickly backs away, nearly falling off the other side of the bed, if not for the fact that Buck springs into action, one long arm going around Eddie’s back and holding him upright.

Now they’re impossibly close and Buck is staring at him all wide eyed and breathing kind of funny and Eddie is swaying forward ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. He’s not sure what it is he’s doing, except that his hand is now caressing the side of Buck’s face and Buck is leaning into it and Eddie's tilting his head to the side and then their lips are meeting at the middle and Eddie can only describe the feeling as sparks of electricity bursting in his chest.

It's only when they finally pull away that reality comes crashing back down around Eddie and white hot panic sets in. "Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. I--that wasn't supposed to--I mean--" he covers his face with the hand that had been cradling Buck's cheek not five seconds ago and it's warm and butterflies flutter around in his belly.

Buck sits back on the bunk and clears his throat, "Um, I thought you and Ana were..."

Eddie looks up instantly, "No, no, we broke it off last week. Or, I guess I did..."

Buck nods. "Oh."

Eddie slides his sweaty palms across his pants and looks away, nervous. "I didn't mean to kiss you." Not when he knows Buck is dating Taylor. Not when she's literally in the other fucking room. Jesus Christ what is he even doing?

If Eddie were looking he would see the hurt that flashes across Buck's face for a split second before he's able to school his expression. "Right. Yeah." He lets out a faint impression of his usually boisterous laughter. "Who wants to be a rebound, right?" And then he's up and gone.

There's a tension hanging in the air between Buck and Eddie after the incident and no matter how badly Eddie tries to pretend it's not there it lingers.

It's Friday night when Eddie rallies and asks Buck out for a beer. Christopher is at his aunt's for the night and it's been a while since the last time they hung out together, just the two of them, so he figures it’s worth a shot. 

He’s in the middle of asking Buck to go to a bar with him when who but none other than Taylor pops out from behind Buck, making the two of them jump. She tilts her head back and laughs at their expressions of surprise and Eddie wants to gag at how impeccably pretty she is with all that long red hair and those pumps on her feet that make her legs look like they go for miles. 

“I got bored of waiting for you in the lot, c’mon, happy hour’s almost over.” she bumps her shoulder into his playfully and Eddie watches heartbroken as Buck gives her one of his charming megawatt grins. Taylor notices him staring and smiles politely. “Hey firefighter Diaz, didn’t see you there--we’re gonna’ hit Bahama Mama, you should come with us.” 

Eddie tries to decline the invite but Taylor is relentless and despite his protests, he finds himself at the counter, ordering drinks next to Taylor, fifteen minutes later. He hates small talk, and apparently so does Taylor, because the moment Buck steps away to go to the restroom she turns to Eddie with her razor sharp stare and says, “So I heard you kissed Buck the other day and tried to do a little take back, huh?” 

Eddie wants to glare at her and tell her to mind her business but this is her business, and he’s the one in the wrong here, not Taylor, and so instead of lashing out he bites his tongue and apologizes. 

Taylor blinks. “What? Why are you saying that to me? It’s Buck you should be apologizing to. I’m not the one who’s heart you’re playing games with.” she snaps. 

“What? What are you talking about? Look, I’m trying to say sorry here--I kissed him in the heat of the moment, and I want to say I wasn’t thinking straight but the truth is I’ve been in love with him for longer than I can admit but I know you two are dating and I know I overstepped, that wasn’t my intention at all so I just--” 

“We’re not dating...” 

Startled, Eddie turns around to face Buck, who’s standing behind him, having heard a good portion of that conversation. “What.” 

“Is that why you said that? That you didn’t mean to kiss me? Because you thought Taylor and I were going out?” Buck can’t help but sound hopeful, gulping when it takes Eddie a moment to answer. 

“You’re really not dating?” Eddie breathes out. 

Buck shakes his head. “We’re just friends.” 

It’s quiet for a moment before Taylor decides to break the silence. “So...I’m gonna go get us another round and let you two geniuses figure this out.” 

As soon as she’s out of ear shot Buck sits down across from Eddie and both men try to speak simultaneously. “Oh, sorry, no, you go first.” Buck insists. 

Eddie twiddles his thumbs and bites his lip. “How much of that did you hear, exactly?” 

Buck’s heart pounds in his chest like a drum. “Uh, I think I walked up to the part where you told her you’re in love...with me? And for the record, I--you know, I--” Buck stumbles over his confession. “I’m in love with you. Too.” 

“Jesus, Buck,” Eddie leans over the table precariously and holds Bucks face in his hands, not giving a damn about the fact that they’re in a crowded bar. “Are you serious?” 

Buck nods softly and the scruff of his five o’clock shadow gently scratches the palms of his hand and Eddie can’t get over how much he likes that feeling. He could hold Buck like this forever. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please.” Eddie lets Buck take the lead this time, digs his hands into those blonde curls as Buck twists a hand in his shirt and pulls him even closer. 

Taylor finds them making out like teenagers in the corner of the bar twenty minutes later and pats herself on the back for a job well done. It’s about time those two idiots figured it out. 

.

a/n anon i loved ur prompt <3 thanku! 

[rekas-writes]

hi!!! i’ve just discovered your account and i really love it!!!

mayhaps could i request a sova with an s/o who’s the touchy type?? like boops, headpats, hugs and all that stuff !!

thank you! :]

A/N: Hi and thank you so much! :D I’m glad you’re loving the content! I hope this one-shot fits the order! I wasn’t sure if you wanted headcanons or a drabble or one-shot, so I made a short-ish one-shot! This was very cute to think about and write though :D

✧☕✧ Thank you for ordering, please do visit again soon~! ✧🍮✧

The Touchy Feely Type

Pair: Sova/GN! Agent! Reader

Type: One-Shot - 1642 words

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Sova’s gotten rather used to your earnest displays of physical affection, so much so that he finds himself unknowingly expecting it every time he sees you. However, lately, you’ve been quite elusive due to your schedule- leaving him rather antsy with your lack of attention. 

TW: None

.•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨*•. ☆ .•*¨•..•¨`•. ☆

You’d always been the physical touch type; the type of person to express their affections through all manners of touch, whether they be friend or lover. It came easily to you, giving a small pat here and a friendly ruffle of the hair there. It was simple and effective, earning you many strong friendships. From bear hugs with Phoenix and Raze to headpats with Jett and Skye; you could even say you’ve given Omen a hug before- not that anyone would really believe you. Or that you’d say a word about it-

It had started when you’d booped him on the nose for a nice shot, startling him and causing him to give you a confused look. The smile on your face from his reaction made his heart flutter more than he would admit. He slowly got used to your touches, with you reaching out first and making a gesture to avoid startling him- like holding your arms out for a hug. 

Sova had been rather apprehensive and stiff with your affections at first, not that he hated your touch, but more on the lines of physical affection being rather rare. He only really offered hugs if someone was in distress. Affection was mostly verbal, which became one of the most comfortable and easiest forms for him. However, the longer he fought by your side, the longer he was exposed to your affections. It simply grew in frequency and evolved when you’d finally confessed to each other. It became rather easy to predict when you were coming, turning just in time to catch you as you jump-hugged him- even if he were busy. He didn’t need any kind of hint.

It was pretty funny to the other agents, just how in sync you were. From the way you could read each other on the battlefield, to how one moment someone could be talking to Sova and the next they would see a blur that was in fact you glued to his side- his arms tucked under yours. Then, you would be off- happy with the quick affection you stole. You were both already too sweet on your own as it is, it practically gave them cavities to see you two interact.

However, lately, you've found yourself swarmed with work. Brimstone had been choosing you to go on more missions lately, with your skills fitting rather nicely with the jobs he needed done. You were more than happy to oblige, but that left you with little choice but to see your friends and boyfriend less and less. Hugs and headpats turned to quick, rushed pats on the shoulder as you dashed from hallway to hallway, place to place. You couldn’t catch a break.

As of now, you were bolting for the hangar. You needed to get to the dropship now or Viper would certainly boil you alive. But, as you saw Sova, you slowed your pace just enough to reach out and headpat him with a small, apologetic smile. One second wouldn’t hurt. He took a moment before looking down with a small, gentle smile, the type that melted all your worries of the day, before his arms opened expectantly- almost predicting your next move. However, you were off just as quickly as you came, shouting an apology down the hallway.

Ever the worry-wart, the archer couldn’t help the frown on his face as he watched your fading figure. He knew you were getting busier and busier by the day, something you couldn’t help, he reasoned with himself. Every agent was undoubtedly so, given their profession. Saving the world wasn’t a 10 minute job. But, despite his trademark cool and calm demeanour he maintained on and off the battlefield, he found he couldn’t quite quell this strange yearning feeling in his chest. He worried for you whenever there was a battle to be won, though he knew you were more than capable of fending for yourself. There was a reason you were in the Protocol after all. Yet, beside the worries, he found himself unable to shake off this strange ache. This need to hold you longer than a touch.

Most nights, since your sudden increase in demand, ended with him on his own, with you rarely popping in due to either overnight missions or simply passing out on your bed- exhausted. Your fleeting touches whenever you were together just weren’t enough anymore. He missed the warmth that followed your affections. The time spent simply being in each other’s presence. The Initiator didn’t even realise he could miss something like this. It’d never really been something he thought intensively about before you waltzed into his life.

Your current mission had been rather tedious and long, and you were longing to go home as soon as possible. The comforts of your bed or Sova’s sounded rather luxurious right now after rolling around in the sands of Bind. You were pretty sure there was sand in places you didn’t think sand could go. It was near enough night when you landed, with few agents hanging around in the corridors.

Tipping your shoes out once the dropship landed, you ignored Phoenix’s poorly stifled cackling targeted at you. You lift an eyebrow as a loud, audible crunch rings out under his first step out, staring at him with a pointed look. He just looks sheepish as he turns around, so you can only see his back, and you hear the soft shift of sand as it pours out. You’re almost tempted to kick your sand pile at him, but a) you were very tired and b) Viper would probably snap at you two to stop acting like children. She seemed a lot more sour than usual, probably from the sand too.

You hurry down the hall to your dorm and shower, only slightly disappointed that Sova wasn’t resting in your room. At least you could surprise him!

You're quick as you throw your sleep wear on, eager to finally have some quality time with the Initiator. You didn’t have to think about tomorrow, having finally been granted a couple days’ rest as reward for your hard work and dedication. There was already a smile tugging at your lips as you reached his door. You couldn’t lie, you missed being around Sova properly. You’d given up so much time for affection, but it was all gonna be worth it.

As you knock, there’s little pause before the door swings open,

“Hey! Missed me?” you smile cheekily, swaying side to side with an extra pillow tucked under your arm. In the short beat of silence, you take a moment to properly take in his tired features. His blonde hair is down and all ruffled, tousled by what seemed to be a restless nap that you’d probably woken him from. Yet despite the fatigue on his features, his dual-coloured, prismatic eyes seem to brighten evermore at seeing you. And as your mutual stare holds for just a second longer, you realise just how much you missed him. 

There’s little time to react as warmth surrounds you. Familiar arms quickly fold around you, securing you in their grasp almost desperately. The way he’s clinging on to you is way too strong to break free from, not that you’d really want to. You blink before a rather large, amused smile pops up on your face. You’d never taken Sova as the touch starved type. You bury your face in his chest and wind your arms under his, hugging him back with just as much gusto and attempting to sway the two of you playfully.

He’s whispering into your hair, the ache of separation more apparent in the way he refuses to let go to talk. As though you’d disappear from him once again, “I missed you so much, my dear…” His eyes are closed, relaxed in both the relief of knowing you’re safe from your recent excursion and relief in having you by his side once more.

You’re at ease for the first time in a long time, letting the moment take hold. There’s a fuzzy feeling in your chest, and you’re sure Sova’s feeling it too with the way he’s smiling in your hair. With a mutual free day tomorrow, you sure as hell were both catching up on the lost time. Nothing was gonna stop you from sleeping in and cuddling,

“Can we just… Stay like this? Tonight and tomorrow?” you muse softly, eyes closing against the soft fabric of his shirt. There’s warmth radiating off of him, like some kind of natural radiator. He chuckles, rubbing soothing circles into your back,

“Of course, my love. I’d love nothing more,” he murmurs, before guiding the both of you to bed- tucking your extra pillow into the few he had. As you slide under the plush covers, it hits you just how tired you really are from the constant back-to-back missions. The constant alertness you held just in case of an ambush. The constant threat of gunfire that loomed over your head. It was taxing, more than you could really admit. You were devoted to the cause, but that didn’t mean you didn’t need breaks.

Settling in, you stay close to Sova with a soft, relaxed smile- embracing this small slice of mundane heaven away from it all. With how comfortable you are, you aren’t too surprised when you start dozing off for real. Your breathing slows, every muscle lax as you’re surrounded by the familiar smell of his cologne and the familiarity of his figure curved around you. You figured you’d be the small spoon tonight. He’s murmuring sweet nothings, a mix of English and Russian as he lulls you to sleep- mushy declarations of love in between.

You’re safe and loved by the archer you hold dearly, you think to yourself, and you believe it with all your heart.

[aslitheryprinx]

Ok so here’s a mcyt G/t idea! a character (maybe Wilbur) either on purpose or unconsciously putting their tiny friend in their inventory (game mechanics wooo!) …small drabble mayhaps 👉👈

I love this so much!!!! :D

Thank you for this prompt, it was really fun to write!

_____

Hide 'n Sleep

_____

Wilbur tiptoed around the house, trying and failing to keep the smirk off his face. He'd woken up to hear his family and friends chattering in another room. He tended to sleep longer in the winter, although he didn't hibernate like some other giants did. When he heard Tommy complaining about the cold, he had a devious idea.

He snuck towards the living room, making as little noise as someone his size could. When he peeked around the corner, glancing into the room that was raised to about his chest level, he put a finger to his lips. Luckily only Phil and Niki were turned in his direction, and though their lips quirked in amusement, they remained silent.

He saw Techno's ear twitch and thought his brother might know he was there. But that was fine; his target was a different little brother.

Tommy was in the middle of a story. He hadn't caught the beginning, but it was something about Tubbo and a ridiculous number of flowers. Mid-laugh, Wilbur struck. He darted out his hands, scooping his little brother off his feet, and the laugh changed to a scream.

Tubbo and Ranboo both jumped, just now realizing he was there, but the others laughed.

"Hi, Toms," Wilbur said, amusement lacing his voice.

"Wil, don't you dare," Tommy started, but Wilbur was already opening his inventory. He dropped his little brother inside, giggling at Tommy's protests.

"You dickhead, you put me in a cold one!" Tommy whined. Wilbur felt him crawling over the walls to one of the slots that was stocked with blankets. He turned his focus to the rest of his family and his friends. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Who's next?" he purred. He noticed Niki had already slipped away; she'd probably gone to hide somewhere as he was putting Tommy away. Phil laughed once, then jumped off the platform the living room was on, spreading his wings and soaring away. He'd be a pain in the ass to catch.

Wilbur's gaze slipped to the two teenagers. Tubbo let out a noise that was a half scream half laugh, launching himself onto Ranboo.

"Go, go, go!" He shrieked, clinging onto the taller teen. The ender hybrid was giggling, but managed to teleport them both away. Wilbur snorted and his gaze fell on the last person in the room. Techno looked back at him with an unimpressed expression.

"Technoblade~" Wilbur sang teasingly. "Are you gonna be the second person caught?"

"I've been betrayed," Techno deadpanned, making no move to run. "I'll accept my terrible fate."

"Come on," Wilbur whined. "You're not gonna play along?"

"Don't judge me, I'm cold," Techno said. Wilbur huffed and picked up his other brother.

"You know, running warms you up," Wilbur pointed out. Techno shrugs.

"So do brothers with magical pocket dimensions," Techno said. Wilbur rolled his eyes and dropped Techno into the same slot as Tommy had claimed. He smiled at their light bickering as he started his search for the rest of the tinies.

If Niki didn't want to be found, he wouldn't find her. She would probably be impossible to catch until she was one of the last left, so Wilbur didn't bother trying to look for her. Normally he'd go after Tubbo first, but if he was teaming up with Ranboo, Wilbur would likely have to wait until the ender hybrid tired out and couldn't teleport. That left Phil.

If Phil was flying around, he was just as hard to catch as Ranboo's teleportation. But Wilbur had a feeling he'd hidden this time. While Phil was a decent hider, he would often laugh and give himself away. Wilbur walked slowly around the house, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any clues.

He heard a small wheeze of laughter, and his head turned to one of the cabinets sized for him. He grinned and opened the door, finding Phil crouched. To his surprise, his dad instantly launched upwards. He'd been waiting!

Wilbur automatically reached out to grab Phil. He didn't expect to actually catch him, but Phil was apparently going easy on him. He relaxed in Wilbur's grip giving a quick "hi, mate," before Wil slipped him into his inventory.

He began circling the house, keeping his eyes out for movement. Of course Ranboo and Tubbo could be hiding, but he doubted they would if they were teleporting around. It was much more fun to do one or the other.

He passed by an open area, only half paying attention, when he heard a small vroop. He snapped to attention, looking for the source of the sound. There were a few purple particles floating on the desk to his left. He must have just walked by them.

He started scanning the area, knowing Ranboo could only go so far. There was another, very faint noise, and he pretended not to hear. His friends always forgot how good his hearing was. He made his way closer, careful not to even look at the place he'd heard the ender hybrid. Then, when he was in arms reach, he lunged.

His hands closed around Ranboo, who yelped. He teleported away instinctually, coming back a moment later since that counted as a Wilbur win.

"What? Where's Tubbo?" Wilbur asked, holding the lone teen in his cupped hands. Ranboo shrugged, but there was mischief in his eyes. Wilbur was about to put him in his inventory, when he heard a small yell, and something hit his head. He froze, shocked, as he felt Tubbo crawling around on his head.

"Run, Boo! This is a rescue mission!" Tubbo cried, and suddenly Ranboo was gone again, leaving little purple particles in Wilbur's hands. The giant reached up and plucked Tubbo out of his hair.

"You little shits!" He said fondly as Tubbo cackled. The goat hybrid flipped him off as he was dropped into an empty inventory slot. Wilbur felt him crawling around, probably looking for Tommy's slot.

He focused on catching Ranboo, who was still in view, but out of reach. He narrowed his eyes; the teen looked way too smug. Wilbur walked forward, and just as he thought, the second he got in arms reach Ranboo teleported just out of reach.

Ranboo led him on a chase through the whole house, never teleporting completely out of sight. Wilbur got very close to catching him before he teleported a couple of times, but it wasn't until Ranboo sat down on the bookshelf he'd teleported to, yawning, that Wilbur caught him.

Wilbur gently scooped him up, and Ranboo flopped over in his hands.

"Did you tire yourself out?" Wilbur asked with a grin. Ranboo nodded sleepily, and the giant snorted. He'd lasted longer than he normally did; that had been a couple dozen teleports. He slipped Ranboo into one of the blanket padded slots, and the ended hybrid instantly fell asleep.

That just left Niki. Right on time, he heard the tiny thunk of something being knocked over. Wilbur would never find Niki if not for her little hints. Like the rest of his friends and family, she went easy on him, always intending to let him catch her in the end.

He walked to the source of the noise, calling his friend's name in a sing-song voice. Niki giggled, but unlike with Phil, Wilbur couldn't pinpoint her location from the sound.

He started opening cabinets and drawers, looking behind items to see if he could spot her. Finally, a small motion drew him to a specific drawer and he opened it. He frowned as he looked inside, still not seeing Niki. Had it been a diversion?

"You don't see me, Wilbur?" His friend teased, and he jumped, suddenly seeing where Niki had been. She'd slipped behind a tape dispenser, and Wilbur had somehow completely missed seeing her.

"I do now," he laughed, holding out a hand. She nimbly hopped on, and he slipped her into his inventory.

Wilbur couldn't help but purr happily at the feeling of all of the people he cared about safely tucked away into his inventory slots. Nothing could hurt them there; he loved protecting his family. Niki, Tubbo and Ranboo weren't technically related to him, but they were as good as family to him.

The cold caught up to Wilbur, and he yawned.

Niki and Phil were in one slot, idly chatting. Tommy and Tubbo had curled up together, and were cuddled against Techno, who was probably pretending he hated it. Ranboo was fast asleep in his own slot, nestled in blankets.

And Wilbur slipped back into bed, eyes drooping. Content from the feeling of the people he loved so close, he drifted back to sleep.

[thejudgingtrash]

Hi! If you don't mind me asking, how many percabeth wips do you have planned at the moment? The ones we might get to read in the near future?

Hey there!

I’m pleasantly surprised in having received this ask! I honestly don’t think that I have much of an audience when it comes to my fics 😅 so it’s great to see people caring here and there ☺️🥰

I have lots and lots of ideas, but little time as I'm extremely busy rn. The current fics I've been working on/are close to publishing are mostly requests:

A request for Ash (finished! Literally have to do edits, then I can straight up publish this, mayhaps in a week or two? Relatively soon, I promise! If you don't hear anything from me, you know what to do 🥾🍑)

A request for Mari (which is basically this but in longer ofc)

A former drabble turned into a short story (🙄) (the drabble was well not part of a contest but comes from a group writing activity?? IDK but I'm also mixing this with another old competition thingy lol two birds with one stone) called seasons as they come and go (I'm currently in the first third of the second chapter (out of four)). One of the very few canon compliant attempts you'll ever see from me ☝🏾

The Wedding Dance requested by Tori (Hope to come around this in July, I think it's such a fun fic!) ☺️💃🏼🕺🏾

My fake marriage fic may I introduce you to my beloved wife?, which I hope also hits the hilarious mark + bonus chaos as sorta (?) requested by Ash and Erica 😌✨

And then of course The Fool 🃏 If you're asking why it's been such a long time since the first act it's because (I'm busy and) the second act is definitely going to be longer than the first one. I do hope that I can publish the second act after summer/before the end of the year (depending on what I'll be doing in regards to a possible masters degree). Won't promise anything, but Act II has already beat Act I word count wise and I've still got around more than 50% of my bullet points untouched. That's a few thousand words, likely around 10k at the bare minimum ⌨️ So it's definitely going to churn out more subject matter than Act I. I really do hope I can come around this, the planned ending of the second act is... interesting 😋

As you can see there's a lot brewing up in the kitchen and most of the fics I write tend to be on the longer side, which I'm trying to avoid, but it still happens. But there should be new stuff coming out from me, very very soon!

[tellusbane]

five times reunited!

          I. For two moons she had remained unseen, closeted with her secrets like so. He lingered outside her doors but could hear nothing, not even a murmur. When they emerged, his face was set and grim as though he had seen a ghost. Her long forgotten figure glowed dark as wine and her eyes shone brighter than the moon's light. He had to look back, know her once more beyond what his eyes could envision. He had waited for her to return. No one else had lounged on the mystery of it or twined with the shadows. He only squabbled, heated cheeks. With her smile alone, he was cruelly undone.

          II. From his worn out chair in some nameless tavern, he stared out over all the other patrons, his cup empty in his hand. Some men boasted among their brothers, hilarious talks he couldn't register. It's been some moments since they've seen each other again. It wasn't the constant disappearance that baffled him beyond compare, but the anticipation of a reunion, that one of these days their paths will once again cross. Her arrival had been known to the ale wench first, of course. Is it any wonder he was the last? He planned to have a hundred more cups, and the tipsiness from it will conjure some ropes around her wrists. Mayhaps in that way she'd learn to stay. If only he had it in him to become that worse.

          III. He almost hissed her name across the room. She didn't seem to feel the tension, always seem to be alone in his wanting. He sat serene on the couch, drinking again but this time from a wrought-gold cup. He kept to the back, watching her pace the long passageways, running her fingers over the rock walls, faintly damp from the presence of dim light. He scanned the room to see if she came alone. There was never a piece of him that stopped longing to look upon her, even then. When he asked if she had feasted their friends with her newfound presence, there was only a grin. How terrible of her to wait for everyone to forget the truth of how she came by.

          IV. His stomach twisted. He had thought he had gotten better at it. Better at the longing. This confession had taken the greatest pride from him. Too late, he thought. Too late for all the things he should have known. He had made so many mistakes that he couldn't find his way back through their tangle to the first once. Was it changing her, changing him, swearing oath to never leave again? Swearing in the first place? Or was it only him that spoke the vow and the words never truly left her? He felt a sickening unease that it went back further still, back to the first breath he ever drew for her. She stared at him, welcoming this reunion that felt like a curse. He would've preferred never seeing her again.

          V. This time he stood before her, no longer waiting for her to return but sought her like before. In her presence, their current closeness, he was sure that the Twelve could do nothing to them. But her stubbornness about leaving could not be easily dismissed. What if it came again? The desire to leave and only resurface when it matters? The star would crack open over them. His head would blot out the light and his hand would reach down to shield her little by little. Heavens' could judge him for it, at least he could fight. It's better to deny that he couldn't bear not ever seeing her. What could he do? Pick flowers in her name? In his frustration, he held her face, tender and marred with unspoken regrets, and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, so tender it burned the skin. A reunion to say a proper goodbye.

@mamoriitai​ :: five times drabble prompts

[btswritingcafe]

coffee and cakes | drabble event.

Welcome to Btswritingcafe’s first drabble writing game! We have decided as our first prompt team creation that we would make an event available for all BTS writers to join!

Want to know how to participate? Read blow for the guidelines!

— guidelines 

you do not have to be a member to apply

you must be following the network

reblog this post

fill out application

make sure to follow our network guidelines when it comes to written content

you can use as many prompts and scenarios as you would like (there is no limit)

there is no due date for these drabbles, you can write and post whenever you wish

applications are always open so you can apply at any time

you can post more than one drabble but please indicate on the application roughly how many

you must tag your drabble using #cafedrabbles20

if your drabble happens to be longer, such as a whole fic, that is more than okay! generally we are wanting to this event to be drabbles to allow writers to get some inspiration.

you do not have to choose something from each category and you do not have to choose a scenario. simply pick what you would like!

you must be 18+ to use our smut prompts. we will not accept anything from minors on this. we are not lenient when it comes to that.

once you have applied you are free to write! if you are unsure of what you chose, message the network!

OUR MENU

— scenarios

playful banter (and mayhaps some tension) between barista!person a and manager!person b.

person a always gets the same drink and sits in the same spot and mayhaps person b is in love with them. the only thing between them happens to the a counter, maybe person b will be bold?

couple that owns and runs a little cafe together.

cafe-library shop and person a is a librarian and drinks way too much coffee. person b is the barista worried for person a's health.

first date at a cafe.

there's a little fantasy cafe tucked away behind bushes and vines. the owner, mysterious and eccentric, has a secret behind the cafe that should never be seen by mortal eyes.

a budding pastry chef scores a job making cakes at a cute little cafe with a cute owner.

rivalry coffee shops that are only one block apart, one belonging to person a and the other person b. in order to keep small businesses thriving the two bickering owners must partner up to save their cafes.

where person a and person b working together at a cat cafe.

two regular customers happen to meet each other at the same time every single day while waiting for their coffee orders.

— fluff 

“You will never be alone because you will always have me by your side.” 

“You’re the spice to my pumpkin latte.” 

“I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.” 

“I thought you new that you've always been my favorite.” 

“It doesn’t matter what setting we are in, I’m so comfortable when you are around.” 

 “I’ve wanted this for so long.” 

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” 

“you’re very endearing when you’re half asleep.” 

“this isnt adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you" 

“Do you need a place to stay for the night? Because no matter what, I can be someone you consider home.”

— comedy 

“I like my men like I like my coffee.” “Keeps me up at night.” 

 “No amount of coffee can keep me awake like you do.” 

“should I be concerned with how much caffeine you’re taking in?” 

“I’ll call you by the right name whenever you start to get my order correct.” 

“If looks could kill, you wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly.” 

“Sorry, but whatever’s being measured here has me at a severe disadvantage.” 

“I could kiss you right now!” 

“Call me a tall cup of coffee one more time and this will be the last you see of these fine espresso beans.” 

 “you’re naked!” “You said it was pajama day.” 

“how long have you been standing there?" "longer than you'd like."

— angst 

“Let’s not do this here.” 

“Are (they/he/she) really just a friend?” 

“Stop pretending that everything is okay. It’s not okay.” 

 “this cafe’s all i have. i can’t give this up for you.” 

“I swear it won’t happen again.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

 “I thought you changed...I guess I was wrong.” 

 “you need to rest. All you do is work.” “Work is all I have.” 

“You left me. That’s what I want you to remember. It’s not the other way around.” 

 “You said we would be okay. You said that we could make this work.”

— smut 

“what I’m offering is not something you can find on the menu.” 

“I’m looking for a special type of creamer.” 

“I know another way to warm you/me up.” 

“you’re just trying to get me on my knees, aren’t you?” 

“i bet you would look even better without your clothes on." 

“so do you flirt with everyone that comes here/works here or is it just me?" 

“If you complain that its hot one more time, im going to give you a reason to sweat." 

"you think you can just run that pretty mouth of yours whenever you want?" 

"do you have anything better to do later?" 

“i saw that. you just checked me out"

Reminder: there is no deadline! you create whatever you would like with the listed prompts above. take your time and have fun! happy writing! keyword: cafe bliss

— OUR PROMPT TEAM MASTERMINDS

☕️ @joontopia ☕️ @amored ☕️ @namjin-fangirling-again ☕️ @bangtiddies ☕️ @suhdays ☕️

[feliix]

Peachy ✦ KSJ (18+)

✦  Pairing: Seokjin x Reader ✦ Word count: 1.6k ✦  Rating: M  

✦  Genre: smut, crack(ish), FWB!au

✦  Summary: Daily hookups with Jin had become the new norm, but what he has in store for tonight is nothing like what you’re used to

✦  Warnings: explicit smut, oral (male receiving), peach rings but used as sex toys (idk man I was going through it), dirty talk, cum swallowing, food play

✦ Requested by my love @ppersonna​ “JIN + COCKTAIL MAYHAPS?????? uwu”

✦  A/N: Honestly I don’t have anything else to say but I’m sorry. But this is the second fic I’ve posted today so were back baby! Tagging @miamorjoon​ @hobiance​ and @luxekook​ because for some reason they wanted this. unedited because I’m lazy ✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland​ 

It worked like clockwork. Every night, 8pm on the dot, Jin would text you. Your text exchanges always went the same way. Each one of them beginning and ending with the same two messages.

Jin: 🍆 🤔 You: Front door is unlocked

The first time you hooked up with Jin you were not expecting for it to become a regular thing, but here you were, 6 weeks later with a regularly set sex schedule.

It started from just one date. One night of Netflix and chill turned into two, and then three, and now you had a friend with benefits. Not that you were complaining, Jin was the best you had ever had, and relationships weren’t exactly your thing so this was the absolute best it could get.

With a light tap on your front door and the click of your doorknob turning, you know he’s finally arrived. It was past 9:30 pm now, so he was running a bit behind schedule tonight. Yeah, you were slightly annoyed, but that's okay, all would be forgiven in due time.

“Y/N?” Jin calls, footsteps making their way up the steps preceding his voice, “I’m here!”

“Up here!” You yell back, but he already knew that. He knows the drill. Meet you in your bedroom at the top of the stairs to the right, but make sure to lock the front door first.

One knuckle taps on your doorframe to alert you of his presence. You almost don’t bother to look up from the screen of your phone, used to this daily routine and a little annoyed that he took so long tonight. You had sprayed perfume almost an hour ago now and it was beginning to wear, as was your mood.

“You’re late tonight,” you quirk your brow in question, noticing the shopping bag he holds in his hand, “What's that?”

“I stopped on my way to pick something up.”

Pacing over to you, he joins you on the bed, opening the paper bag and flipping it over to dump the contents on the bed.

“Condoms,” he holds up the box of trojans, the only name brand for the boujie boy he is.

“Snacks,” you say as you grab the bag of peach ring jellies, threatening to rip it open before he snatches it back from your hands. You shoot him a glare in response, but the smirk on his face shows no remorse.

“Just wait.”

“Wait?”

You’re genuinely confused now, watching him shift on the bed as he stands up to begin undressing. There didn’t need to be a hot and heavy clothes-being-ripped-off, make out session before you got down to business – it would all lead to the same place anyway.

“Well what are they for?”

“You’ll see.” A devilish is spread wide across Jin’s face. Your sex life definitely wasn't what most considered ‘vanilla,’ but something about these jelly rings said things were gonna get a little bit more frisky tonight.

As his pants leave his body you can tell he’s already semi hard. You swear this man’s boner never goes away, he’s definitely horny all the time. Not that you were complaining, you’ve been dripping as soon as you got the eggplant text.

Spinning on his heels your eyes meet his back, shamelessly traveling down to the swell of his ass. It was right there, you couldn’t help it. You can't see what he’s doing, but when you hear the bag of jellies being ripped open

You have no more energy to question what he was doing at this point, your eyebrow does raise as you hear him let out a small whimper and he fumbles with the bag. He keeps looking behind himself to make sure you can't see, locking eyes with your questioning stare and only grinning in response.

“Okay ready,” he says turning around with his hands on his hips. Your gaze immediately focuses on his cock, adorned with three jelly rings, stretched to the brim and wrapped around his shaft.

Jaw dropping in astonishment, you stare at his erect member, his face smug in response to your reaction. “You want me to…suck them off your dick?”

“Exactly.”

Your head tilts to the side as you admire Jin’s form – standing with his legs wide to show off his manhood, standing upright and embellished with the peach candies. No words come to your mind as a response, your mind is completely blank. So you decide to just shrug your shoulders in response

“They are kind of squeezing me, but no rush,” he laughs in an attempt to break the awkward silence that has formed. It's not your fault you’ve never seen a candy coated cock before.

“Right,” you scoot towards the edge of the bed to hop off, getting on your knees in front of him.  Your gaze hasn't left his candy garnished cock since you’ve first laid eyes on it. The way the jellies squeeze it so gently, the ridges forming between them on the shaft. You’d be lying if you didn’t think about riding him with them on, dying for some extra friction in your walls. Maybe another time…

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around the tip, your lips brushing against the first jelly in line.  It's sweet, the sugar garnish melting deliciously as it meets your mouth. The sugar coats your tongue as you extend it outwards, placing small kitten licks over the ridge between the first two jellies.

You sigh a moan of approval at the sweet taste, wrapping your lips fully around the first candy and hollowing your cheeks. It comes off easier than you had expected it to, sliding off from the lubrication of your saliva over his head. Jin lets out a steep moan throwing his head back as curses leave his lips.

“First one done,” you smirk as you look up at him through your eyelashes, chewing your accomplishment (sweetly). Small strands of his hair are stuck to the sides of his face, framing his lustful eyes as sweat gathers at his brow. You watch as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, swallowing thickly to choke back the flood of moans threatening to leave his lips.

You tongue at his cock again, dragging it along his entire length to coat it in your saliva. The salty taste of his precum mixes with the peach flavor as you reach his tip. The mixture satisfies your taste buds as you lick up the remnants of his leaking tip.

“Fuck, keep going,” Jin groans, head falling back as his eyes screw shut, basking in the bliss you were giving him, “feels so good.”

You take his compliment as a sign to move forward, wrapping your lips around his tip and sliding them down the shaft to the next jelly. Your tongue grazes over each ridge of his cock, gliding over each vein and massaging them gently.

From the sounds leaving Jin’s mouth you can tell he was enjoying himself. His hands swiftly find their way into your hair, gripping it at the roots and tugging at your scalp. He wasn't being pushy, though. Just needed something to grip onto in order to keep himself together for a little while longer.

The second jelly has already begun dissolving from the repetitive movement of your tongue over it. It slid off just as easily as the first, breaking in half as it reached the ridge between his shaft and his head. You chew and swallow it triumphantly, leaving his dick to twitch in anticipation as he’s left with no stimulation.

“Last one,” you smile as you take his head in your mouth one more time, licking at the precum gathering at his tip before sliding your mouth down his shaft. The last jelly is placed at the base of his cock, squeezing him harder than the rest. The candy was stretched to its limits, creating an indent on his cock. The challenge of getting this one off enticed you, and you knew Jin would enjoy the feel of you deep throating him to get it off.

You sunk your head down all the way, hollowing out your cheeks and relaxing to take all of him in. His cock spasms on your tongue as you reach his base, flicking your tongue over the candy trying to get it off. This one was on there good, and it wouldn't be as easy as the last two.

In a split second you decide to pull back your lips, biting down gently on the jelly to get a better grip.

“Ow, fuck!” Jin yells, his thighs tightening under your grip as your teeth graze his member. Your smug with his reaction, giggle slightly as you move your lips back to take hold of the jelly. But it wasn’t over just yet.

Bobbing your head up and down you suction the peach candy against your lips, using it as a guide as you massage his cock with your tongue. Jin’s cock throbs in response – you know that he’s close.

For added stimulation you remove your grip from one of his thighs to grope his balls, something you know always sends him over the edge. And before you know it white hot spurts are landing on your tongue. His hand grips your hair as his face morphs in bliss, a muted croak echoing from his throat as he keens into your touch.

Once he’s finished you pull away for the last time, chewing the peach ring as your reward and swallowing it with his cum. He’s out of breath, panting as his hands hold onto your shoulders as he recovers from his high.

“How do you feel?” You ask as you look up at his euphoric expression. Small beads of sweat are dripping down the sides of his face and running down his neck, glistening from the dim light of the TV illuminating the room.

“Just peachy.”

‘Peachy’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost or translate on any platform.

[spookyboywhump]

Mayhaps a cool prompt??? Young Everett and Eli at home, sitting together, Everett comforting Eli through fears about future planning?

Hi hello I loved this, and also I’m so sorry in advance for the second half of this drabble because it just kinda happened. Also apparently everything I write with these boys ends up being 2000+ words and a lot of dialogue

CW: Mentions of a neglectful parent

***

 Elias tiredly stared at the screen in front of him, reading and rereading the same paragraph several times, trying to will his brain to cooperate and focus for once. His eyes kept straying away though, glancing around the dark room, looking back to the screen and going over the several tabs he had open, occasionally he’d switch tabs to choose a new song to play on low volume, he usually wasn’t able to focus without music- though right now, even that wasn’t enough. 

 He sighed and moved the laptop off his lap, setting it on the bed and tiredly rubbing his eyes. It was almost midnight, and he already dreaded school the next day because he knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep. He considered going to try and find something to eat, wondering if that might’ve helped him focus, but he already knew he wouldn’t find anything and he didn’t want to waste his time, not more than he already was anyway. 

 He perked up when he heard the front door to the apartment open, Everett always tried to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake their mom but the door creaked no matter what they tried to do to fix it. Eli liked the warning, liked not being startled when someone came home. It took all his self control to not leap off his bed and go to greet him, he was usually tired when he got home from work and he didn’t want to bother him, though he knew Everett would say he wasn’t. It didn’t take long for him to wander back to their room though, coming in with a plastic bag from the store down the street hanging off his arm. 

 “Hey,” Eli said, looking up at him from where he sat, “How was work?”

 “Exhausting.” He sighed, reaching into the bag and taking out a can, passing it to Elias as he sat down at the desk between their beds, facing his younger brother. “What are you up to?” He asked, gesturing to the computer.

 “School stuff. Looking at colleges and all that, or, trying to anyway. My eyes keep unfocusing.” He said, popping the tab off the energy drink and taking a swig from the can. “Actually, all of me keeps unfocusing.” 

 “You should go to bed then.” Everett told him, though he had been the one to bring him more sugar to keep him up through the night, even getting a can for himself. “Why are you worrying about schools and stuff anyway, aren’t you like, only the second year in high school? You have time, right?” 

 “I guess I have time but, it can’t hurt to start looking early. It’s more wishful thinking than anything.” He shrugged, leaning over to the computer, switching tabs to turn off the music still playing. 

 “What do you mean “wishful thinking”?” He asked.

 “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to actually be able to go to any of them.” He shrugged.

 “What makes you see that? You’re a fucking genius, Eli, you could get into any school you wanted.” He leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs. 

 “It’s not a matter of intelligence or grades, it’s a matter of money. You know, that thing we’re chronically lacking in.” He snickered, setting the can he held on the desk beside him. 

 “Yeah, but aren’t there like, scholarships and shit? I don’t know, I didn’t really get that far, but I’m sure there’s something you could do.”

 “There is, if I could somehow manage going to school all day and working every hour that I’m not at school, homework and assignments be damned. I don’t know if I could even get a job though, and if I lost that job then I’d be fucked.” He said, having already overthought every terrible scenario that could come to pass. He sighed, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “There’s no way to guarantee that it would work out, and that’s assuming I even got accepted in the first place.” 

 “Don’t worry about the money thing, you know I’ll help you.” Everett assured him. “I don’t want you trying to work and go to school at the same time anyway, that would be too much. Besides, you still have time, if you really wanted to you could try working in the summer to save up at least some money.”

 “It’s not… It’s not just the money thing.” He finally admitted, staring down at his lap. “I already know where I wanna try to go, and I’ve already looked at scholarships and stuff, it’s just… it’s out of state, y’know? So I would… I would have to leave…” 

 “... Yeah? Isn’t that a good thing?” He laughed. “I would’ve fucking killed to get away from here when I was your age.”

 “Would you come with me then?” He asked, almost hopefully. “If… if we could just… move there… if you were at least close by, then, I don’t know, maybe…” He said, slowly trailing off when he saw the look on his brother’s face, he already knew what he was going to say. 

 “Eli, you know I can’t leave, not for good like that. Mom needs me around, and… and I think it would be good for you to go out on your own like that. You don’t need me around, you’re more than capable of handling yourself.” He told him, moving to sit beside Elias on his bed. He put his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as he anxiously picked at the skin around his nails. 

 “It would be easier with you around though… I’ve never just… been away from you…” He’d always been anxious over the thought of being away from Everett, when he was little he’d even cry when he left the house. A part of him knew it was kind of inevitable, either Everett would leave eventually or he would, if only to get away from their mother. He didn’t like to think about it though, the thought of it made him sick. 

 “Well… it might be good for you to be away from me. You’re a super smart kid, Eli, and I know you have big plans for your career and all that. You shouldn’t hold yourself back just because we’d have to be apart. It’ll happen someday, might as well give it a try now- or, well, in two or three years that is.” He told him.

 “Yeah, but- but what if something goes wrong? What-what if I get hurt, or sick, what if you get hurt? What if I need you?” He asked, rambling away as his anxiety got the better of him. 

 “Hey, hey you’ll be fine.” Everett said gently. “We’d still be able to talk, you would come home on breaks, it’s not like it would be for forever.” He told him. 

 “But it would still be a long time. Longer than I’ve ever been away from home, away from you… and that’s even assuming I could get in. I still have a lot of work to do before then, I sure as hell have to keep my grades up-”

 “Kid, I’ve seen your report cards, I don’t think you’ve ever had below an A.”

 “Yeah but-but what if something happens?!” He cried, getting worked up all over again. “What if- I don’t even know! What if I just suddenly forget how to do anything, what if I start messing up, what if I miss a few days and I can’t ever catch up, what-what if-”

 "Elias.” Everett said sternly, and it was enough to shut him up, his brother hardly ever used his full name. “You’re working yourself up over nothing. Just because you can come up with some wild scenario doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, if anything, it’s really, really unlikely it will. I told you, you’re smart, you shouldn’t let all your anxiety hold you back. You could do fucking anything you wanted, you have got to take advantage of that.” Elias groaned, pulling away from Everett only to hide his face in his hands.

 “Every time I think about it though, it’s… it’s fucking terrifying. It’s so fucking scary, and on top of, well, everything else, the schoolwork I already have, and the chance of mom ending up in the hospital again, and you working all the fucking time… it’s scary, and thinking about what’s gonna come after I graduate is even scarier…” 

 “You don’t have to think about it right now then.” Everett told him, putting his hand on Eli’s back. “I’m sure it is scary, so give yourself a break. You still have a lot of time to figure it out, at least for right now, just take a break.” He said. “And you know, you can talk to me if you need to. I might not understand everything you have to say, but at the very least I can listen, and try to help you the best I can.”

 “But I don’t wanna bother you…” He murmured.

 “Eli, you could never bother me. I don’t think you’ve ever bothered anybody in your life-”

 “Mom would say different.”

 “She doesn’t count. Listen, I just want you to know, I’m always ready to listen to you, I’m always ready to help you. I’ve been with you this far, I’m not leaving anytime soon.” He told him. Elias was silent for a while before finally lowering his hands, lifting his head to look at him.

 “Promise…?”

 “Of course I promise.” He smiled at him, reaching up and ruffling his hair before pulling him into a tight hug, Eli finally cracking a smile as he leaned into him. 

 He could never figure out how he did it, but Everett always knew what to say to calm him down, to slow the frantic flow of thoughts that would make him panic when left unattended. He knew that someday they’d have to exist away from each other, and he didn’t know what he would do when that day came, but for right now, all he could do was cling to his brother, and be thankful he was here for him in the moment.

 ***

 Everett sat on his bed, staring at the card in his hand. It was early the next morning, Eli had just left for school and he was only awake because he always made sure to say goodbye before he left. He was alone now, staring at a phone number he’d been debating calling. The man who had given him the card wasn’t as shady as his offer was, he was older, well dressed, he clearly had money and he seemed polite. He wasn’t pushy, unlike everyone else who had offered him a shady job, which made him feel a little less uneasy about this. 

 The man had told him if he changed his mind, he should call him, and he’d handed him that card. He’d dismissed it at first, left it in his jacket pocket and almost forgotten about it. The job he had now was fine, but the man had offered more money, at the time though, he didn’t think it was worth it to risk it, but the offer was starting to appeal to him more and more. He’d gotten Eli talking the night before, and while his brother was in the shower he’d looked into the school he was interested in. Even if he had his tuition covered, there was still the cost of necessities, money in case of an emergency, the cost of getting him there and home on breaks. He couldn’t blame the kid for getting nervous, it was a lot, but maybe, if this offer was as good as it sounded, it would be manageable. 

He knew there was still a couple years until they had to worry about that, but even easing their current financial issues sounded good to him, and he knew it would take some stress off Eli. He knew their mom wasn’t doing well, she’d already spent time in the hospital twice that year and at this point he was the only one who could provide for them. He was just barely making enough to pay rent, keep their phones and internet going, only for Eli to be able to do schoolwork, and he knew they never had enough food- even though he knew he gave money to their mom. If he had the time he’d do the shopping himself, but he didn’t, and he knew Eli didn’t, and even though he felt guilty for it, he was angry that their mother was so unreliable, and that his brother was suffering the most for it. 

 He’d eventually reasoned with himself that it couldn’t hurt to call, couldn’t hurt to get more information. If this really was some miracle, if it was as good as it sounded, then he’d be happy he did it and things would improve, and if it turned out to be a scam or another desperate pervert, then he could forget it ever happened and go back to struggling like normal. It couldn’t hurt though, so finally he dialed the number, and hoped for the best.

[inviouswriting]

Returning a favor

Just a drabble for @whitherliliesbloom​ to let her know I’m thinking of her and enjoy everything she brings forward. Always support content creators and the things they work so hard on. She works amazing on the things she generates. I love seeing her posts on my dash even in between moments while I work. I hope this helps brighten your days a little bit.

A simple gesture is all a friend needs sometimes, Kiya had noticed Alphinaud down the last few days, and asked him to meet her back at the Intercessory. She had been slowly learning culinary, much to Aymeric’s push in it for her to know how to cook. She learned enough to be able to make decent things now. One of which was a treat that comforted both herself and Alphinaud in hot chocolate. A kind gesture that was given to them from Haurchefant.

Kiya had Alphinaud wait by the fire while she prepared it and brought both herself and him a cup. The elezen was surprised that she made it for him. A kind smile and remanence of a friend no longer with them. They sit down in front of the fireplace to talk about recent things.

Alphinaud was having trouble trying to cheer his beloved up, and it made Kiya frown a bit. Knowing a friend is hurting and without a clear way to help them. She drifts into thought to recall advice or things Aymeric has told her in comfort. She smiles to herself remembering one of their nights when she was in a similar situation as their mutual friend.

“Being there for her, is more than anything you can do. We’re here for her, but it is to her to come to us. Give her time, and let her know you are there.” Kiya says and gets an understanding nod. With the mugs empty, and they had stood up from being close to the fire. Kiya hugs Alphinaud, she had to get back to Ishgard, while he went back to Yanxia.

“When did you learn to be so philosophical Kiya?” Alphinaud questions. Kiya gives a smirk.

“I think you know where. I’m engaged to him now after all. Aymeric is pretty good with words in comfort. Just remember to provide her with arms to seek solace in. Makes all the difference.”

They left the room that has been a solace to both of them in times of need. Thankful for one place that is a respite for them when the world is too much.

“Mayhap, Alphinaud, you should bring Illya here. It is a special place, and I think she would enjoy the stories you can tell her in these walls.” Kiya gives him an idea and he smiles.

“I should. Thank you.”

[alltherestisdrag]

can you please do 12 and "can't you stay a little longer?" for branjie, please? 🥺

I wasn’t sure which 12 you were asking for so I included both 😌 I haven’t tried this kind of old sapphic fic before but I really liked the vibe actually, hope you like it ❤️

p.s. excuse my poetry I’m not a native speaker nor a poet but I had to write an original line sooo-

p.s. 2. you can send as many requests as you want, I ENJOY THEM A LOT

TW/Ratings/Tags: referring to homophobia, 50s Lesbian AU, Fluff

Trope 12 : Forbidden Love

12. It’s lonely here without you. and 32. Can’t you stay a little longer? | Branjie

Vanessa was enjoying the sunny weather and woodnotes while drabbling a ridiculously romantic poem onto her rusty notebook.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t rhyme the words at the last part.” She bit the back of her pen while mumbling to herself, and tried to focus onto her feelings. She tried hard, really hard, but couldn’t help laying her back onto the tree with a feeling of giving up after a couple minutes.

Listening the birds and watching the children playing out there was sounding better at that point, rather than serving a not-good-enough piece to her grandmother after the dinner. She could work on that after gathering some feelings and intensity.

“Hello,” she suddenly heard a whisper coming from the back of the tree she had been laying on, and suddenly turned her back to the voice. “Writing again, huh?”

“Jesus Christ!” She scream whispered when she saw the tall girl standing right in front of her. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the farm, feeding the horses?” She closed her notebook immediately and squirmed onto her seat. Secretly making her some place to sit.

The blondie laughed. Her hair was tied into a tight ponytail with a braid, and she was looking effortlessly beautiful in her white shirt and linen pants. Not that everybody could see her beauty since she wasn’t wearing chic dresses like her mom wanted, but still, she was the prettiest girl Vanessa had ever seen.

“If you want me to go, I can disappear in less than no time, but I thought, mayhaps, you missed me.”

Vanessa tried to hid her blushing and hit her arm slowly, even if she was right. “Shush, Hytes!” She reprimanded. “If someone heard the way you talk, they would send us through.”

Brooke smiled, and sat right next to her, maybe too close, Vanessa had to check the road to see if someone was coming. “What?” the blondie asked with a laugh. “Aren’t you tired of living like this?”

Of course she was, but the last thing she had wanted was losing all the other thing she loved, even if Brooke was worth to leave all of them for, she, as a twenty year old young girl, didn’t have the money to save herself yet.

“Do you have any better ideas?” She whispered, and put a little kiss on Brooke’s lips for an instant, checking the road once again right after. “You have to confine yourself to this, for, I have a lot of things to do today.”

Brooke murmured, “Let me guess, sitting here, enjoying the evening sun and writing another poem that you’re not gonna let me read...” when she slid her hand down Vanessa’s midi dress, her fingers suddenly got slapped.

“Oh dear god, you’re so naughty today! Such a bravery you have to touch me under the light like this!”

Brooke laughed again and rested her head on the tree looking at Vanessa with a pure capture of love while she was getting her hands busy with her pen.

“It’s just so lonely here without you,” she murmured, still trying hard to keep her hands off Vanessa. “Bella just gave birth to a pretty little girl. Wish you could come and see, I know you would love her, and she would too.” Mentioning of the pretty white white horse Vanessa used to ride, with Brooke’s help of course. Until her mama intuits the intensity between them, and shuts all of the doors going to Brooke for Vanessa.

“Did she?” Vanessa asked with excitement. “I wish mama would let me. I shudder to think she has a lot of people watching me all around the town. And now I can’t even see you... It’s really not fair.”

Brooke was aware of the fact that Vanessa’s mood suddenly went down, so she reached the pocket of her shirt and tried to change the mood. “But come on, I drew her for you, and added you too, see?”

When Brooke handed her the damp paper slightly gotten wet with sweat -however Vanessa wouldn’t even mind- she took it with excitement and shaky hands.

“Oh god,” she whispered when she saw the artpiece, sadly drawn on a plain thin paper. “How could you even...”

Brooke smiled and kept watching Vanessa admiring over the piece. “I’m good at memorizing details, remember?” She asked, and made Vanessa caress her own figure on the paper. “How could I forget your enchanting face?”

Vanessa pouted with the intensity of the emotions building inside her chest, and exhaled loudly. “I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath,” she whispered, got slightly red right after letting the words out. “But I’m afraid mama will start looking for me in anytime.”

“It is okay,” Brooke slightly caressed her bare arm and stood up, shaked the dust off her pants while talking. “I’m afraid you owe me a Saturday evening, I can ride to the city, and we can watch a movie...”

“I would love that,” Vanessa slowly moved but didn’t stand up, watched Brooke getting ready to leave. “Promise I’ll get the permission from mama somehow, I’ll make something up.”

Brooke smiled and tousled Vanessa’s pretty hair, but couldn’t ridicule her since she was still in love with the drawing and her soft attitude so far. “I’m glad,” she said. “I’ll meet you here, fine?”

“Yeah,” Vanessa whispered, and watched Brooke walk in the opposite direction. But couldn’t keep her mouth shut when there were just a little bit distance between them. “But can’t you stay a little longer?”

Brooke turned back while walking backwards, and shrugged with a sad face. “Your mom, my boss, dear. I better go. But promise I’ll see you.”

Vanessa nodded with understanding. Feeling the far away kiss Brooke had sent her right onto her heart. She tucked the drawing between her notebook sheets and handled her pen with the thoughts rushing into her mind. Which was making her write the lines that’s gonna make her lie to her grandma.

“Is that for the little blonde girl playing with the paints around the house? The one you chatted last night?” She was gonna ask. And Vanessa was gonna mumble, “Yes, sure,” with fake nods, “she surely is,” already looking forward to the Saturday evening.

The day was rising on her sleek strands

With the talent oozing from her fingertips

She makes me wonder what else she could do with those hands

Perhaps she’s the only one who makes me look forward for our long Saturday terms

[out-of-jams]

Hi! I just started following bc I read airplane mode (which, holy. freekinn. crows. so good 🥺🥰) so here’s a random drabble request(?) (idea?? Idk I’ve never done this before???) to hopefully help you warm up: Getting home after a really day to your favorite person (idk if they’re an s/o or a best friend or something else) having made you dinner and a movie completely unprompted—but something mayhaps goes wrong?

Hi! I’m glad you like APM!🥰🥰 Also, thank you for the request! :) I’m glad to be your first haha. Writing this literally made me so soft. And I accidentally made it a lot longer than I’d intended. Oops? I hope you like it!!

Pairing: ?/Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Genre: Roomate!au. Soft, soft fluff. A little angst if you literally squint. Small use of bad language.

Listening To As I Write: Serendipity by BTS

You weren’t a philosopher. Hell, the closest you’d ever gotten to the subject was once, when Namjoon had forced you to watch one of his many weird movies. (Not that you’d been able to completely understand it anyway).

But Murphy’s Law was totally kicking your ass.

Because everything that could have possibly gone wrong all day, well, did. And now you were tired and soaking wet from the stupid rain that’d decided to split the sky in half. It’d been sudden. So-much-so that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to take shelter before it completely drenched you, all the way down to your cotton socks.

So to say that you just wanted to get home, take a shower, and bury yourself beneath your freshly washed sheets would have been an understatement. And as you punched the code into the keypad outside your front door and it opened with a chime of a bell, you couldn’t help but uncaringly toe off your shoes and wet socks. You knew that you’d come to regret it later, when your roommate launched them across the room in a hissy fit at them not being put away properly. But you didn’t really care, couldn’t bring yourself to put in the extra effort to move them to the right ten more inches.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion that clouded your brain and prevented you from completely registering your surroundings. Or maybe it was the rain water sticking your eyelashes together and obscuring your vision. Whatever it was, you were completely unprepared for the scene that greeted you as you rounded the wall separating the entrance from the rest of the apartment. And came to a complete halt.

Because your roommate was standing in the middle of the kitchen slicing up what looked to be a homemade pizza. His back was to you, the black and white striped sweater he wore sticking out amongst the brown painted cabinets. And his soft looking blond hair was a styled mess that you knew he most likely spent twenty minutes that morning getting it to look that way.

He was humming quietly beneath his breath, the sound carrying all the way to where you stood. He’d always been a great singer for as long as you’d known him. Which was a long time–three years to be exact. You’d first met through Namjoon, who’d introduced the two of you after realizing that you were both searching for a roommate. Of course, you’d been a little bit skeptical at first; you’d never lived with a man after all. Especially not a complete stranger.

But Park Jimin was nothing short of an absolute sweetheart.

“What’re you doing home?” You asked, watching as he jumped in surprise at the sound of your voice. How had he not heard you come in?

Jimin whipped around with the pizza cutter still in his hand and warm brown eyes blown wide. “You scared me!”

You didn’t even get the chance to formulate a response before his plush lips turned down at the corners. And you could see the concern flash across his face clear as day. “Why are you soaked?”

“If you haven’t noticed,” You pouted and hooked a thumb over your shoulder towards the balcony door, though it was shielded by white curtains. “It’s pouring outside.”

And you knew that you were probably dripping a puddle into the carpet beneath your bare feet, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to be bothered. Jimin, if possible, frowned deeper and set the pizza cutter onto the counter before approaching you.

“You should go take a warm shower.” His hands were on your shoulders now as he gently guided you towards the hallway between the living room and open-concept kitchen. “The pizza should be cooled off by then.”

It was easy not to put up a fight, especially when his warmth seeped through your wet clothes and onto your chilled skin. “Why are you making pizza? I thought you had work today.”

“You texted me that you were having a bad day, remember?” Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could quite clearly hear the smile in his adolescent-esque voice. “I finished up early so I could be here when you got home. Now go shower so we can eat.”

If there was any person in the whole universe who had the ability to completely turn your bad days on their axis, it would be none other than Park Jimin. Especially when he gave your shoulders a comforting squeeze before retreating back down the hall. You turned just in time to see the back of his blond head before he disappeared around the corner.

. . . .

You already felt a lot better as you stepped out of the bathroom, steam following in your wake. It may have been from the hot shower that’d eased your tense muscles, but your money was on the aroma of melted cheese and tomato sauce. And on the man who’d made them.

Them being the keyword.

“How many did you make?” The amused awe couldn’t be kept from your voice, nor your face.

When Jimin looked up from the pan he stood over, you rubbed the sleeves of your oversized hoodie across your eyes playfully. Who it belonged to, you had no idea. Though it most likely had originated from his closet since you had a penchant for stealing his clothes. It wasn’t your fault that the man was more stylish than you were.

“A few.” He shrugged. “Just in case.”

“In case what? The zombie apocalypse?”

Jimin softly swatted your hand out of the way when you reached for one of the slices. Out of the four–four!–full sized pizzas that sat on the kitchen counter in all of their gooey, cheesy goodness. It was your favorite comfort food and you were extremely lucky that it also happened to be one of the only dishes Jimin knew how to make.

His sweet laughter filled the room and unconsciously pulled a smile across your own lips. “Just in case, though I think we’ll end up eating them all during the marathon. You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Marathon? What marathon?”

Jimin just gave you a cheeky smile, flashing his cute crooked front tooth, and handed you a plate filled with fresh slices of pizza. And he didn’t answer your question, not at first. Just gestured for you to follow him to the living room where he had blankets, pillows, and drinks lined up on the coffee table.

“The Harry Potter marathon.” 

His answer reached your ears from over his shoulder as he settled down on the couch. You weren’t too far behind, plopping down on the opposite end. Though it was pointless, since you’d just end up gravitating towards one another later as he cuddled up next to you.

“You know I love you, right?” The look you sent him was nothing short of grateful. “Like, you’re the best roommate ever.”

Jimin simply settled for sending you a playful wink before clicking on the television. And with the taste of pizza coating your tongue, there was nothing that could possibly ruin your day.

Until the electricity shut off with a loud boom of thunder. Right as the opening credits rolled.

“No.” You threw your head back with a groan, dropping your slice back onto the plate. Of course.

Jimin pouted in the sudden darkness of the living room. And you could just barely make out his head turning towards you as he patted the couch cushions for something. His face lit up in the soft blue light of his cell phone.

“Come here.” He slid his plate of pizza onto the coffee table and gestured for you to lay down in the small space next to him. “I can just rent the movies off Amazon and we can watch it on my phone.”

Well, you weren’t about to turn down that offer. Not when Jimin was the best cuddler you’d ever met.

Which was exactly how you’d found yourself tucked into his side with one of his arms thrown around you and his phone propped up in the other. And as the opening credits played on the small screen, you wouldn’t trade that day for anything.

[whitherliliesbloom]

❀ - For Ahru, if you'd like! :D

We all rise from nothing.

Flowers for drabbles!

Looking upon Illya’s exceptional talent for magic brings back Ahru’s troubled memories of her past.. until she notices Illya struggle to lift a crate of metallic tools and near mental breakdown when she attempts to ask for help. [453 words]

For a moment, her brother was all Ahru could see within that girl. The oh-so talented genius of the healing arts, who could wield magic so naturally one would mistaken them as one of the padjal.

It was arguably worse in Illya’s case. Not only was she a famed white mage, who had apparently won the favor of the elementals despite not being padjali in race, but she also dabbled in a good number of other magical arts. 

Astronomy, black magic, even the red magic that Ahru had only managed to pick up on after sheer willpower and hard work. Illya was clearly a prodigy at all things aetheric and magical in nature. 

Truthfully, while she feels no resentment or envy, she cannot help but to still be reminded of the neglect she’d been put through simply because of her ineptitude for magic. Life for someone gifted with such remarkable magical prowess surely must have led a life far different than her own. 

And yet her impressions changed in an instance when she saw the lalafellin woman attempt to pick up a crate some Roegadyn had apparently instructed her to transport. Attempt being the key word, as after wrapping her short little arms around the wooden crate and heaving and huffing, the box didn’t even seem to budge an inch after Illya straightens herself up and frowns down on it. 

Whatever was inside that box must have either weighed of a carriage, or the strength within the girl’s arms was nonexistent. 

Ahru deigns to watch for a little while longer, noting with a furrow of her eyebrows as the lalafell turned her head from side to side. She’s very obviously scouting out her surroundings, wondering if there would be anybody around that would notice her plight and offer to help. 

Why could she not just approach someone herself? Such matter should only come naturally. 

For her, that is. 

While Illya’s violet eyes lowered down to her hands clasped together, her lips pressed into a thin line from nervousness, Ahru can only wonder what the girl must have gone through in her life to develop such fear of social interaction. 

They weren’t so different, the two - she only realizes now. Because for even most talented of prodigies, they came with their own crippling weaknesses that they must struggle against. For all their struggles, neglect and mayhap abuse they put up with as a result of their inadequacies, they shall rise up and grow stronger through sheer force and determination. 

That, more than anything, is what they heroes must share in common.

“Need help?” it’s only natural for Ahru to approach, lips curled into a smile as she lifts up the crate with ease. 

[catleha]

asks. cue a mini-drabble / @twicebled​​ cawed: with chime of jewelry comes presence of fellow miqo'te at scholar's side. ❝ Hey! ❞ chipper as ever rings her voice & lithe silhouette stands uneven, an object held betwixt arm and hip. ❝ If anyone asks, I pilfered these from the Exarch, ❞ thus she jests as a hand gently grasps and raises one of y'shtola's to place something small 'pon it. ❝ They're little chocolates filled with jam, ❞ posture shifting, she holds the mystery object beside her & gives it a shake : candies rattle against glass.

‹  RARELY DID SHE DARE TO DWELL OUT IN THE OPEN / WHY, OWN SANITY TOOK A HIT WHENEVER EXPOSED TO THIS AETHER LIT SKY; when every step taken felt akin to a nail driven through her hand / a dull blow against throbbing head; as if some crueler force scratched marks into her skull; the everlasting mumble of entities roaming the plaza prone to drive her insane, eventually. Or perhaps ‘twas the very history of a place so rich in death & tragedy. Why, she had read scriptures as old as time. -- detailing how the Crystarium had come to be; sineaters’ numerous victims listen in journals as thick as one’s every limb. Aye, mayhaps it was not LIVING’s whispers that echoed endlessly. -- teeth grate, jaw setting whilst scorched gander dragged attention elsewhere. Oh, to let eyes wander across the very selection at hand, here in the brittle shadow of some brick-stone arc; figurine hunched beneath ripple ivy. -- a blessing, truly. 

     One of her kind was prone to pick her beverages & meals by herself; cautiously.

     Why, to never trust. -- lessons learned / cord cut. Oh so HELLBENT on dwelling elsewhere; to be alone, independent, maybe. Through suspecting some underlying motive on EXARCH’S end, to mayhaps grant oneself a second to merely breathe. Far away from Slitherbough’s guileless mass; akin to children squalling for a parent they would never have. -- deem it a responsibility she never ought to shoulder; blame it on natural curiosity & the sheer urge to grow into a role that felt oh so much more satisfying than whatever was left of a white mage’s waning identity. To overcome the severe disharmony between black & white / past & dreaded present: to come to the conclusion that former self no longer existed. 

     To thus stand & brood [typical]; let blind gander trace faintest aether / a signature caught without feeling the ravishing pulse of planet’s lifestream yanking at her sinews. Headaches & migraines aside, this realm’s supersaturation had its peaks. -- ‘twas bittersweet: having scorched pupils revel in minor details that First’s more coarse aether cut into blinding white; the clear shape of a loaf, the very ripple running down a glass bottle’s neck, the ghostly smidge of EXPRESSION on shop-keeper’s visage / long lost, long sunk & suffocated in the very void own peripheral field had turned into. -- hands set against her hip, the wisp of a sigh lingering on parted lips. Oh, what would she give to see her again; the curve of blonde strands against clean-cut features, the fine lines of a cheeky smile. Deem it yet another bane / punishment, maybe. -- what a fool you are: worrying about dear Lyse’s ABSENCE rather than thanking the Twelve for leaving her unscathed. -- oh, scold yourself for having such piteous thoughts. Aye, watch the DEAD make demands; as if arguing with a corpse; silly, truly.

     Ere making advances [to buy whatever the shop’s ward suggested], a sudden voice coerced ears to TWITCH. Lo, she half-turns / half-braces for what might immediately follow [why, they had a tendency to be physical / always have been; scions certainly not too fond of boundaries]. -- turned torso, lifting left as if to wave. Hm... the clarion jingle of jewelry, the dainty tingle of a bell; enter: seething aether / a sight that made heart race. Strain nestling against this tired muscle / akin to a claw wrapped around her every thought, sinking its talons deep. -- chest aches; call it phantom pain / some grim reminder on something / someone who shared this awful energy.

     Nay, ‘tis her. Their esteemed warrior. -- not some spectre of a man long dead.

     “my lips are sealed.” she begins, languidly. Consonants & vowels drawn, if only to grant oneself the time to adjust to sudden touch; to run thumb against placed object, allowing the tip of index & middle finger to pinch & squeeze. ‘twas a hard treat / unyielding against evoked force. -- ah, how quaint; ever fond of sweets / a guilty pleasure best kept secret & yet... “though as much as I deem pettiness my vice I must ask you to cut the pilfering. If only for your reputation’s sake.”

     Cue a chuckle; heartfelt [genuine, almost]. One she stifles with some sharp inhale; nonchalantly. Why, her expressions are stern / mellowed if only by the meek curl of her lips. 

     “Pray, return the favour and forget that you descried me here. Urianger has a tendency to ever obnoxiously follow my every step whenever I decide to abscond my lair though I am uncertain as to why he refers to this place as such.” -- a pause. The kind in which she lifts her empty hand / to merely let it nestle against her chin. There, tension abates / ah, how easily a mere quip falls from painted lips, piece of chocolate weighted against her palm. Only to play pretend: to mask one’s chagrin / this crippling betrayal. “-- twelve forbid he ever learns of my habits.”

[dansiere]

is she okay? she doesn't feel okay. nothing does. even once whole again, gem intact and shards no longer missing, everything she was feels nothing like what she is. nothing of dreams and hope, just hollow and sadness and like everything she was meant to be doesnt fit as well as it did, like she's in the body of a stranger "i---- how am I meant to feel?" after everything, after losing what she was and gaining it back and coming to terms with her crimes, how does one go on?

random asks. / cue a mini-drabble.

✩⋆ .HOW AM I MEANT TO FEEL: A QUESTION THAT STRUCK / TEARING OPEN A WOUND SHE HAD DEEMED SHUT NOT TOO LONG AGO; one with a scarring as ugly as her every flaw; a mental one, carved deep into the very depths of her thoughts / her soul / her very passions. Never would she find escape in anything for all that she was, all that she still strove to be was inevitably bound. – && yet… to move on despite it all; such a daunting task, a mountain to scale, with weights heavier than herself bound to delicate shoulders. ‘HOW AM I MEANT TO FEEL?’ a question asked several times, with fingers brought to her mouth:

     First, out of confusion & bewilderment, glance cast up. Devoid of an own identity & true self, a slave to a diamond-crafted purpose; asking her: ‘what are feelings? How do I think’… Second, on the battlefield, teary eyed. Fine rifts in her gem, thrashing & struggling in her grip; furious, raging, full of WRATH; begging her to understand that sacrifice was something she HAD to do. Third, decades later fingers wrapped around hers, most heartfelt smile worn on delighted features. Here’s to their golden future, their little fantasy in their very reach.

     && a fourth time, as agonizing as a knife’s blade lodged between the ribs; screaming at the top of her lungs, hysterical / lonely; at Garnet, at herself. In anguish, with every breath taken grief-stricken & bleak. Growing desperate & more desperate still. – maybe a week after Rose Quartz’ death. 

      a pearl never forgets. A fact that kept haunting her truly; as relentless as the very occurrences of war forever etched into the back of her head. 

     Perhaps she was thus the wrong person; to speak about something that had never been clear. Feelings & sentiments, this sense of self something to be learned / through trial & error, through pain & glee alike. – loss & tears & misery only completed by joy, most upright laughter, elation, happiness. Mayhaps she was the worst person; moving on with but incapable of letting go; a handful of thorns dug into her skin, aching / itching / burning with every motion. Maybe she was the most unstable of them all; growing unsteady whenever confronted with keepsakes of her, deeds that tore at briefly healed cuts sending her into some spiral. Thinking, brooding, pondering, again asking herself ‘HOW AM I MEANT TO FEEL?’

     && here she stands, faced with another shred of a life long abandoned; before the war, before love found & love lost, before overcoming agony, before deciding to become someone so much better, no longer a victim of the past. – a servant again, trailing behind dear diamond’s silhouette only to catch a glimpse of a different Gem. Singing, dancing, free. Ametrine, Authority’s henchman. Perceived as odd, so strange. – she, without a fixed purpose, roaming the halls doing all she pleased; as bright as some new-born star.

     Seconds pass, perhaps ammassing to an eternity; remember, remember: you were devoid of a purpose, once. A sword without a sheath, a tool without a hand to wield it. Feeling empty, struck by a hollowness words failed to explain. With part of an identity ripped out of her heart & soul, contemplating why oh why she had not died alongside her. – ‘now she is gone, but I am still here…’. – fingers ball; form most fraught fist / trembling, an ache that travels through her form akin to a jolt. Swallowing thickly, mien showing but the most minuscule twitch / brow creasing, jaw set. Oh, how she could relate to this downtrodden being, stripped off all that once made her whole. Robbed off a future, present & past. Singing & dancing, nevermore. ‘twas as if glaring into a mirror; such a detestable thing, distorted & grim, displaying the shell of other’s former self with a sneer. 

     SAY, how does it feel to relate to a broken mess; shattered hopes & dreams & strength, reduced to a self-loathing husk, co-dependent, cut from the very hand that had once held her so lovingly. Aye, back then a servant, unaware what ‘free’ even meant; only learning what the discovery of true POTENTIAL procured while living a life dedicated to war & glory, love & passion, to Rose. Owning everything she ever wanted; alas, never free. She takes a step, shivering as if brushed by some cold breeze; left fist kept close to her chest. Crouching, expressions doing their utmost to be ever so encouraging / ever understanding, relating, shell-shocked.

     “No one can or should ever tell you how to feel, Ametrine. Your feelings are your own, both, to learn and to experience. No one can do that for you.” tone ever so gentle, alas, alas so strained. – as if threatened by something that seethed under the surface, those emotions better suppressed & locked away. Still, extending idle right now; flat palm pressed against a shoulder, to comfort, perhaps. TO BE THE BRAVER ONE: for once. Not to break down in tears, not to scream at the top of her lungs, drowning in sentiments that once had brought her to her knees. – there, a cautious smile; saddened, maybe, with a voice to match the very ache in her chest, steadied by personal experience, by GROWTH for now, for a while. 

     “It’s a progress. And it will hurt, and it will feel like an eternity. – why, humans call it change and it’s a terrible thing to go through. Shattering, almost.” there, a pause, left hand’s nails digging crescents into a calloused palm. – how excruciating it seemed, to glance deep into former reflection’s eyes; as if speaking to past self, a crushed thing / a bleeding wound. “I have been there. Forcibly so. But I reinvented myself, eventually. – I will be here to lend you a hand, if you let me. I promise.”