#drabble tag pending

[goldenshxrds]

"It's odd, I never would've thought you'd come to me for a favor. Truly unprecedented, your majesty."

"Yeah, please do me a favor and not call me that. You and I both know you're the one responsible for my reign falling apart. But more to the point. This isn't for me. It's...for a client.An odd sort who seems she can do battle against monsters with...a letter opener. I needed your insight on wolfsbane charms for the engraving."

"While I'm certainly not against the idea, I would've thought the Great King Eilian of the Wicked Eye wouldn't have issues performing such a task. Or is this more an issue of me keeping an eye on your...activities, while in this human facade of yours. You would think after several hundred years, you'd understand the kind of things that force my hand when it comes to you."

"And I'd think you would understand that as I am now, that is to say, Shannon, I have no idea what dabbling in the supernatural would do to me. I lack my station, my powers, my connections. You are my only link to the past I knew. My hated enemy. My...tolerated moderator. I come to you, not as the demon lord of yesteryear, but as someone concerned for the life of a human girl with little room to breathe. Do this one thing for me."

"You're hardly as handicapped as you think you are, but I understand your point. I can at least appreciate your nature as a sovereign demanding aid to those in your care. Worry not, I shall see to it the girl gets her wolfsbane...letter opener, and hopefully that shall settle the matter.

"Maybe next time, invite me out with less business-related goals. I think it would better suit this persona of yours after all."

"I would consider it. If it would erase the damage you did to me and mine, slayer..."

[raiiryuu]

Freed glanced at the timepiece on his nightstand, not particularly interested in nearly blinding himself with the screen of his MCL. 1 in the morning. He wasn't entirely sure why he was awake at this hour -- nothing seemed off, immediately, except the way his heart was pounding as if he'd been startled -- but the dark shape passing by his doorway at least offered familiarity.

But this didn't seem to be one of the usual nightly checks the dragon slayer did. He didn't even slow down as he passed the door, the coat thrown over his shoulders lending his silhouette much more presence in the dim light from the small lamp in the hallway. He didn't glance over, there was no flash of oddly luminescent eyes, not a sound. The man was as a ghost -- impressive, for someone his size, but also concerning. Freed hadn't even had the chance to sit up and consider going after him, calling to him, before he heard the apartment door open and close quietly.

When he did peek out into the hallway, a familiar, somewhat frizzy seith mage was doing the same. The man's expression was profoundly somber, concern writ plain on usually carefree features. He glanced to Freed, then to the point Laxus had disappeared from sight, then back to Freed.

"He say anything?" His voice was hoarse.

"Not to me, no. I'd only just awoken as he left."

"He was loud, a bit ago." Freed noted only then that despite the sleepy appearance, Bixlow's cowl was behind his shoulders, totems at the ready around him. "Thought he was fightin' at first, but then he just…left."

Freed blinked. Well, that would explain the shock. "Is he…?"

"Right outside. Probably just needed some air." Bixlow didn't have his usual bravado, though. Even staring at the man's soul, he didn't know how to help him, and it felt like a Vulcan had hold of his ribs to admit it.

"He ain't angry, though," he offered after a moment, something almost like hope in his voice.

--

"Really, Laxus," Evergreen murmured, having caught Freed and Bixlow before they could exit and joined the pair on their way out. "You had us scared half to death with that noise." Her tone held all the bite one would expect, but her eyes only concern. It was not uncommon for the blond to make noise in his sleep, during nightmares. Sometimes quite a bit. But this had been…too much. Too loud, too angry, almost feral.

The dragon slayer spared her a glance, smoke curling upward; the cigar held between his teeth added a peculiar buzz to his words, the deep rumble of his voice joining it for a rather strange effect, all told.

"I was, too."

The simple admission caught all three off-guard a moment, a glance shared. He always downplayed, if he even admitted to the nightmare happening in the first place. He never just…said it so plainly, as if it was as mundane as the weather outside. He seemed to be studying their reactions, scrutinizing each of them in turn. Apparently satisfied with whatever he found -- or perhaps he'd just found something he was searching for -- his eyes returned to the city below after a time, once again content with the silence. He'd not once moved save his eyes since they'd joined him on the balcony, and even now adjusted his cigar with his teeth instead of reaching up. Had he moved them, they had no doubt his hands would be trembling. Possibly yet surrounded by his magic.

"…need an ear?" Bixlow offered, in his usual way. Tone kept light, but voice quiet. Hesitant to break the silence but knowing someone needed to. Laxus huffed a sigh through his nose, sending smoke in all directions.

"…nah. I'll be fine." Something warm lurked at the back of his throat as he said it -- it wasn't his usual attempts to get the subject to change. He truly believed it. The warmth reached his eyes, as well, though they remained fixed elsewhere. Bixlow nodded, gently nudging the blond's shoulder (bravely facing the static that was inevitable without a sound). "If ya need us, holler. Just try to use your words; we've had enough heart attacks tonight." He started to head for the door, Evergreen moving to follow, when the lightning mage spoke up again, barely half the volume of before.

"…stay. If you want."

[lethalityandlustmoved]

He ends up at his apartment. He ran all the way there. His radio is playing Christmas music. The TV is on, and it’s bright, too bright.

He doesn’t hesitate. He picks up the radio and throws it at the TV. He’s barely there. Even when he picks up a shard of glass and crushes it against his palm, he doesn’t feel anything. His phone is ringing. He throws that, too.

He sinks to his knees in the middle of his living room, tears dripping down his cheeks. He’s bleeding. His mind is still empty. He needs to be drunk. Fuck that, he needs to be high. So he stands up, picks up his metal baseball bat again (he hasn’t washed it), and heads out the door.

Someone’s about to get fucked over.

[luckynatured]

Ducking into a storage room wasn't exactly how Hilbert intended to spend the evening...but with everything going on right now he didn't really see any other option. Things were chaotic in the tavern; so many adventurers and mages were there, along with the occasional noble stopping by on the way to the ball.

Hilbert looked outside the window; as it happened, this place had a really good view of the castle. He knew the princess' birthday was something to celebrate, but that didn't mean he couldn't find the night a little overwhelming.

“Hill Bird, you okay?”

Hilbert heard the door open, followed by a series of soft thumps. The latter sound only meant one thing, and he turned to see that Carmen had decided to check on him.

Carmen was an unusual creature, in the sense that she was a sentient cactus. One day a traveling mage had given the proprietor of the tavern (Hilbert's mother) a cactus bulb as payment for the tavern’s hospitality. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the bulb was magical, but nobody had imagined that the cactus would gain sentience and be able to move on its own. Years had passed since that revelation, and Carmen had since become part of the family.

“I’m fine, Carmen,” Hilbert answered, reaching over to carefully pat her head. He was more than used to getting pricked at this point. “I just needed some space. It’s a busy night, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Carmen said, hoisting herself up to sit on a nearby box. She looked outside the window. “There’s a fancy party going on in that castle, right? That’s probably why things are so busy here. That way, everyone gets to have some fun!”

“Everyone except for the people working in taverns,” Hilbert sighed. “I can’t guarantee I won’t start a brawl if I have to deal with one more entitled adventurer.”

He then looked out the window again. Whatever was going on over there, it had to be leagues better than the chaos happening here.

“You ever wonder what it’s like over there?” Hilbert questioned.

“Um, of course?" Carmen responded. “Mz. Molly says that castles are way too fancy, but she’s the only one of us that’s actually been in one.”

“Right?” Hilbert looked up at the ceiling. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke up again.

“This is probably childish - and don’t you dare mock me for this,” he said, “but I kinda wish I could somehow sneak in there. Just so I could see what the place is like, even if it’s for one night.”

Now, the thing about wishes like this (in this world, at least) is that one can never know when they would be heard, let alone if some kind of powerful entity was listening. And even then, one can never know if said entity would be willing to grant that wish.

In this case, that’s exactly what happened. Hilbert wouldn’t know his benefactor’s identity for a while, but in that moment one could see a bright flash within the box that Carmen was seated on. She pushed herself off as if she had been set aflame, nearly falling to the floor with a shout. When the sudden light dissipated, Hilbert opened it to find what had to be the fanciest clothing he had ever seen.

“What the hell?” he breathed, as he smoothed his thumb over the green fabric. It was definitely fancy - nothing he ever wore had the same texture as this. “This wasn’t there the whole time, was it?”

“I don’t think so,” Carmen answered, completely awestruck. “We’d know if Mz. Molly had something like this in storage already, wouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Suddenly, Hilbert had an idea. He took off his shirt and tried the fancy shirt on. He cursed as he tried to fasten the buttons properly. It was fortunate that there happened to be a mirror there - that way he could check himself out without having to worry about getting caught. “This is a perfect fit.”

“What?! No!” Carmen gasped. “Is there anything else in there?!”

Hilbert looked and was amazed to find a matching pair of pants and black boots. There was also a traveling cloak (dark green, with rose gold details). Almost immediately, he got to work in trying them on.

“Did someone hear my wish?” Hilbert gasped, once he managed to get the full outfit together. “That’s the only explanation. What the hell.”

“Are you actually gonna be able to go to the ball with that outfit?!” Carmen’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “That’s so cool! I wanna come!”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Hilbert reminded her. “You’re kinda famous in your own right, remember?”

“Oh yeah…” Carmen pouted. “But I still don’t want you to go alone. What happens if you get caught?”

“Ah…” Hilbert hadn’t thought of that. There would probably be pretty dire consequences for him if he were to get caught…even if his intentions were harmless. But he couldn’t let Carmen know about that! “I’ll be fine. I’ll bring Michelle with me. You know how tough she is, right?”

Michelle is the name that Hilbert gave to his familiar - a spunky Oshawott with a penchant for mischief. If anyone would be able to distract the guards long enough for Hilbert to slip in and out, it would be her. She could also put up a really good fight if the chips were down.

“Okay,” Carmen conceded. “Let me know what happens, okay?! You gotta tell me everything!”

Hilbert nodded, as he called for Michelle and made his preparations. There was a lot he needed to do in the next hour, after all.

[heroftruth]

Flashback!

Send “Flashback” for a look at something in my muse’s past. | accepting

Her calfs burned as she sprinted her way through Castelia city, weaving through the crowds- at times narrowly missing colliding into someone.

Until now, Plasma had been nothing more than a conundrum. An organization that preached pokemon liberation, and claimed to be concerned about the welfare of pokemon. But the interactions she'd had with their members didn't necessarily reflect those beliefs. Some seemed to truly care, sincerity in their eyes as they spoke, but others... What she'd seen in the Dream yard still twisted her stomach when she thought about it. How the grunts to kick the Munna she and Bianca had found, trying to capture its mist.

Until now, Plasma had just been something she'd run into a few times. Annoying, conflicting, confusing. But at the sight of tears streaming down her friend's face, the way she clung to Iris on the docks, terrified her Munna was gone for good- Plasma had become personal. She turns a corner, spotting Brugh and two Plasma grunts a ways down. Gripping her bag, Hilda forces her to run to quicken. If they wanted a battle, then a battle they would get. One way or another, she was getting her friend's beloved pokemon back.

[the-leyline-directory]

||-Lion's Share-|| (Silvaire x Krile Drabble)

[[[[A technically short drabble of a Silvaire and Krile interaction! It's set right before Shadowbrings \o/ ((They don't admit to feelings till Post Endwalker/Dawntrail start! It's a very long con)) So this is a good point of showing how they get along and interact at the mid point/before Silvaire deals with all his Shadowbringers(Emet) trauma+history confrontation --- sorry for the long preface! I'm a nervous nelly!]]]]

The quiet of Mor Dhona's dusk was always punctuated by those last few idle patrons coming too and fro below the balcony. It was never a nuisance, no, instead a common reminder of a living, breathing, world that was beyond the stone walls and wooden floorboards; A world where adventurers still braved the wilds, and the dangers that lurked within. A world where people - young and old alike - sought to better their lives through the honest work of their own hands.

A place that Silvaire often longed for - and a home he often missed when he lingered too long in the depths of memories.

It was a strange existence.

Twilight itself was peppered by those last few birdsong echoes that never seemed to die. As if there were some unseen nest somewhere within the cavities of old stonework - perhaps a pair of lovebirds continued to serenade each other in defiance of the oncoming night. The air was always cool with the distance from the lake - chilled winds pushed by the ghosts of war - that, even on a difficult day like this one, that temperate chill eased the burning hearts of many. Peppered rain had stopped a few hours ago, and the last traces of cloud cover now faded into the indigo sky, drifting wings of broken color.

Pages turned atop the table before him in the coming quiet, puddles had dried - soaked into the parched wood with greed - and now the gentle breeze left his mind calm and ready to continue the seemingly impossible task of studies; piles of tomes from his own collection brought to the Rising Stones in hopes to solve this unforeseen predicament of soulless husks-

Amber eyes flicked up below dark lashes when the sharp creak of unoiled hinges rang as an alarm to this broken isolation, snake slit pupils an empty black, now locked on the young woman who walked into the alcove (her expressive features crinkled with just as much disdain for the loud whine of the door as he), a faint dark hugging under bright blue as her gaze drifted across the way in her walk towards the railing - a tiredness clung to each part of the Lalafell as she came to rest against the cool granite with an obvious sigh of exhaustion.

For a few heartbeats, he said nothing. Stilled as the stone she leaned upon. Studying that peaceful quiet while the tippering of birdsong began to finally fade, watching how - even from the distance between them - the lord could feel the weight that burdened laxed shoulders.

“Any changes?”

The deep rumble of his voice snapped Krile from her solitary thoughts - a gentle gasp escaping with a clerical swear buried beneath decorum as she pushed herself from the lean - turning to the Elezen with bright eyes wide, yet settling with a visible lax of her posture as a gentle smile graced tired features. As if his presence held no threat to her weakened state.

“Unfortunately no, but they’ve gotten none worse either.” In the quiet din of the coming night Krile’s voice carried the obvious lilt of overburdened worry, tender fingers rising to brush aside a long strand of chestnut hair behind her ear - strands that had long come undone from the tail she’d pulled it into when the sun had first tasted the horizon. “Thancred seems a bit more pale than the others, but I hope it’s just my imagination…”

He hummed a note of acknowledgment, nodding in his farce of interest, before reaching for a teacup to drink; hiding behind the liquid in lieu of conversation as honeyed-amber glanced back to the pages he’d been skimming. Nothing here would undo the mystery of a hijacked soul, and neither would anything in this Eorzean language answer the question of aetherial rifts.

“Oh, you brewed tea?” Small footsteps neared and again he glanced towards her to watch the bobbing motion of those sewn cat-ears atop her hood. “What did you pick?”

Uninvited (No, he made no motion to stop her, or even hint at such discomfort) Krile moved to sit across from him, moving a stack of tomes to the side so she could better see him, tilting her head as she sometimes did while waiting for his answer.

He didn’t know. Taste had long dwindled in the mercy of a deadman’s tongue.

With a crooked brow and a half smile, he motioned towards the spare cup that had come with the set (He’d not expected company, yet he brought two) and gave his half truth.

“Feel free to indulge. I wasn’t quite attentive to the package.”

There came the slight furrow, her lips thinned as she studied his demeanor for a pause before beaming with that unabashed acceptance. No, from the glint of mischief across her stare it was a call of his bluff. A challenge to be toppled. A lie to catch.

Clinking porcelain paired with paper pages as they both went about their business. The woman’s mature voice offering comments here and there for the fact the temperature had long iced over of the tea he was drinking, the covered kettle itself being little more than lukewarm - though the warmth of her bright company seemed to ease the frigid winds that covered the balcony around him, enough so that as he tapped a forefinger to his temple he couldn’t help but glance anew to the Lalafell across from him as she settled into her seat with drink in hand-

Only for her expression to sour as she sputtered and coughed - careful and polite to place the teacup back to saucer despite the somewhat comical disgust.

“It’s so-!” Her lips were pinched as tight as her eyes, the locks of brown swaying in time with the reactionary shake of her head to and fro in abject denial. “-Bitter! By the gods Silvaire, how long did you let that steep?”

The Elezen’s palm slid down from his temple to rest his chin within it, tapping his pinky against his lip as he tried to deny the mirthful smile that pulled at it. He failed of course, as he often did whenever she caught him alone. “Too long it seems.”

“I’d think you a member of the forum with a dedication like that.” Small fingers pushed the offending cup from her side, obviously no longer interested in it as she sighed, silence once again draping between them as if the coming night.

He made no motion to break it this time, at least not at first, continuing his pretending attempt to study the novels he’d already memorized, content to let the calm lay in place of conversation as each page turned. Again, and again, and again.

Why hadn’t she left?

Turning his gaze from reading ink to reading her posture, he stared at his companion for a few seconds in study, glancing over the now more direct sight of her tired complexion - though this physical weariness was not the burden that the scholar seemed to hold. It was the way her own attention seemed find focus in the mirror of that discarded bitter poison.

As if answers to the unspoken lingered in her own image.

“I can find something else if you’d prefer.” A statement he’d not meant to speak. Compassion to ease the weight across her features.

Krile’s eyes darted to his own within a heartbeat, a flush rising across her features as the young woman forced a smile; pushing down the obvious debate that plagued her inner thoughts. “No, no it’s alright, I’m fine.”

She answered the unaired question without batting an eye. His lip rose with a halfhearted smile in turn; and once more spoke before instinct could bite his light-bound words.

“You don’t have to be.”

Why did he say such a thing?

Why did she look at him with that slight bafflement? Bright blues slowly caressing his features as he let her - allowed her to see the unspoken - that lingered feeling that made him swallow whatever words remained. Overstepping the boundaries of this limited companionship, that is what he was doing. Opening the door he doubted any would step through.

“…Ishgardian healers came by today. They’d come to offer their services for the Scions.” Her hands rested atop the oak, fingertips sliding across the cold porcelain. “Of course, I was thankful for their assistance, I can’t be the only one keeping our friend’s bodies intact - I’d be insane to think otherwise…”

“…And yet?”

Krile closed her eyes and inhaled a long slow breath, before exhaling sharply, now staring down to her own clasped grip as thumb ran along forefinger. “You might not understand this, but I can always tell when someone is looking down on me. Metaphorically of course - given my stature, nothing otherwise is expected.”

Her pause wasn’t long, but his silence was filled with patience, the tomes before him ignored in favor to watch those minute mannerisms as she continued;

“I’ve always had the disadvantage of being different, both from my blessing, and often in pair with not being seen as… ‘equal’ as it were. A child quite often in the eyes of others - and despite how many achievements I manage, how powerful I prove myself to be, I’ll never be completely free from the judgment of my heritage or what others believe they know of me.”

Silvaire spoke now with a quietness that rumbled the lower notes of his voice, as if speaking his question too loudly would scare her from an answer. “And these healers thought you lesser?”

A hesitant nod followed, and she sighed audibly before resting her head atop the table, her cheek atop crossed arms as she looked out to the painted horizon. “Perhaps I’m just overly tired. Or the way they all but pushed me from the room with that overly-sweet tone just… rubbed me the wrong way.” Frustration dripped across her words as thin brows furrowed with her frown.

It was an expression he didn’t often get to see on her face, and just as quickly as it had come, it was gone - replaced with another long inhale, exhale, and those bright blues were back to sitting straight and staring at him.

That tender smile easy on her lips.

“Sorry, sorry. I know you’re not the kind to listen to the woes of others.” There was a drift to her attention as those unruly strands were once more tucked away. “I’ll be alright. It’s something of a personal gripe.”

He hummed, glancing down to the pages under his palm (The words blank in black ink, the more interesting topic sat before him) he gave a moment of pause before amber rose again - then back down, as if to deny himself a thought. The lord’s tongue darted across his lip as he gave in to that clawing light and spoke;

“Actually I’m fairly good at listening.”

Curiosity danced across the sky of her eyes, that same tilt she’d once more used in their talks alone as Krile hummed almost a mirror of one of his own. “Really? That’s a trait I’ve not seen yet.”

Silvaire bowed his head as a soft laugh broke free, the silken black of his hair drifting across his shoulders as it pooled atop the novel - pulled back to curtain his eyes from the sunset as he straightened only enough to remain at an easy level for his shorter companion.

“There’s many things you’ve not seen of me.”

Now it was her turn to laugh - a bright sound, light and airy despite the exhaustion that plagued her - a musical lilt that felt keenly familiar within the memories locked in the dark.

Would he tempt to open that door again? Honesty for she who could read his lies?

Pulling his hair back across his shoulders as it had been, he inhaled (A false breath for a deadman) feeling the warmth of once stiff air fill his lungs before he spoke, a tone seemingly different than the short motes of conversation. A change that Krile caught with an academic’s attention;

“While I… personally, cannot relate to such a thing, I know someone who could.” Mannerisms long hidden attempted to surface, idle fingers running flat along knuckle, a sorrowful smile begging as the heart tightened in thought. “A young woman who, for her entire life, had been looked down on for her weaker stature, as well as the lacking weight of the ties of blood.”

In a world forgotten, those traits held as much importance as the kings who ruled them.

The wind drifted across the table to flitter pages across one another, and it was only with the patience prompting of his companion that he found the drive to continue.

“By all accounts, she could fell beasts far larger - and far more dangerous - than even those trained for a lifetime. Swift as a bow, with daggers sharper than any arrow.” That hollow lord didn’t realize his smile had escaped, nor the joy that painted his words as he spoke of this buried memory. “And, just as you, she was quick witted, kind, and very prone to playful conversation.”

The Lalafell leaned forward to rest atop interlaced fingers, cocking her head to the side with a bemused smirk. “And did you suffer that same judgment when you first met?”

Dark brows raised as pale features flushed, only for a moment before he nodded - not in shame, but in earnest openness. “Yes, I did, I thought her loud, brash, and somewhat invasive to my personal space. That she was immature, and the first few times we crossed paths I assumed she was out of her depth.”

“What changed?” The undertone of her words wasn’t lost on him. If she was similar to the woman he spoke of, did he feel the same towards her?

He answered. “I spent more time with her. Firstly only a few jobs here and there, but soon enough… my solitude turned into a group.” Those idle fingers moved to toy with the edge of that half-empty cup, similar to her own a few minutes ago. “I learned that beneath it all, behind that bravado, she was constantly comparing herself to what others thought she should be. That should she ever fail to measure up to the expectations - she’d failed her father, and all he sacrificed in taking her in. That no matter how much she did, she would never be enough.”

At this, any motion of brevity was swept with the cold, and Krile’s posture stiffened, hiding her frown behind those clasped fingers as she looked down to the table between them. Her voice was quiet as his had been once before, as if she feared the answer to be lost.

“How did she deal with it?”

“She bit back. Hard.” His reply earned those glassy blues to flick up to him, studying the faint smile on his lips as Silvaire tilted his head to better look at the young woman across from him. “She spoke up anytime those feelings threatened her, and stood up for herself whenever others dared to challenge her confidence. She learned that the only person who’d fault her, was herself.”

Silence once more fell between them. Thick as the books that towered around her, cold as the wind that drifted ink black hair over his pale features. Yet, it was not a harsh quiet. Serene and still, calm as if the mirrored edge of the lake that crested just out of view - a reality known, yet unseen.

“It sounds like I could learn something from her, I’d love to meet her someday…” The woman’s voice and smile faded slowly as her mirth met gentle realization as she watched his passive tells. “…Though, something tells me that wouldn’t be possible.”

“…No.” Short, but gentle. A sadness best left buried.

And Krile respected that, it didn’t take the power of an echo to tell the finer details of the pain that wrapped so cleanly across the Elezen’s person. Instead she asked for a kindness, to share the weight of this unspoken ghost. “What was her name?”

He smiled, a small thing that prompted just as quick a hand to wipe it away, dragged across the dark of his facial hair as the man cleared his throat to chain away the emotion that followed his reply. “Lion. Her name was Lion.”

Sunlight dance over the Lalafell’s features as her own expression beamed, bringing a welcome warmth to the coming dark. With a quick hand she motioned to the two cups that still sat between them and grabbed her own with a praising lilt.

“To Lion then-“ With a quick sip of that bitter tea Krile was once more reminded of the reason it stay untouched for so long. “Oh gods- I forgot-“

Whether the plight of sputtering was on purpose, Silvaire would never know, but nonetheless it did the job to steal a genuine laugh from him, sealing away any bridled fears that came from clawing memories - and with that same bravado, took his own half-filled cup and did the same.

“To Lion.”

Only once the young woman had recovered from her short ordeal (a mischievous grin on her lips as she studied him, as if victorious in some unspoken goal) did she stand from the table - night had now come to shower the balcony in starlight, and it was with a renewed sense of confidence that the Lalafell turned to look back to her companion.

“Well, that’s enough of a break for me. I’m going to go shoo that Chirurgeon out of my spot and get back to it. You’ll keep to your studies then?”

Silvaire motioned towards the sky. “Worry not, I’ll rest when I need.”

He could see how her echo caught his lie, yet she said nothing of it beyond that specific tilt she did every time she did. “You better. Else I’ll come back out here and drag you to the extra bed we have.”

The conversation ended not with a goodbye, but a nod, that little motion of acknowledgment as he turned that slitted gaze to the papers he didn’t want to read. The brash creak of that unoiled hinge gave way to earthly silence, and the hollow lord was once more alone.

He’d forgotten how cold it was outside.

[oflostinfound]

Word travels fast, especially rumors about a spirit being seeing dancing on the lake in broad daylight. A group of fishermen discussing what they'd supposedly seen at the local bar after having been brushed off by the local paper. Just "senile old men telling stories again" as they said before chasing the group out.

However rumors such as these were the reason this town had any visitors, tourist intent on finding the supposed "blue spirit" that called the mountainous forests home.

Which, is why a hand suddenly slams on their table. A well built woman gazing down at the group, who go dead silent under her gaze.

|| ?? ||: ❝ Evening, gentlemen. I couldn't help but overhear your "wild story". How about I buy you a few drinks, and you tell me more about what you saw and where you spotted this spirit. ❞

[frznkingdom]

"I told you to be more careful with your arm, dammit!"

Dusk resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Glitter's outburst. How many times had he heard his sister say the exact same things to him?

He glanced down at his metal right arm as it was being worked on. It was nowhere near as sleek and shiny as the advanced Atlas cybernetics. His own seemed to be cobbled together from various pieces of junk. It was a miracle it even functioned in the first place.

"I am careful."

"Clearly not! This is the third time this week you've needed me to repair it!"

"A new record! It used to be five, remember?"

"Just shut up and let me fix it."

Dusk only continued to grin. The hyena faunus wasn't the best at listening to his sister.

"Exactly. I do the shootin', you do the fixin'. We stick to what we're both good at."

Glitter's frown deepened as she turned the screwdriver in her hand. "I'm a perfectly capable fighter myself..."

"Yeah, and which one of us is gettin' hired for their fightin' skills?" He laughed, only to abruptly wince as Glitter made one of the screws on his arm abnormally tight. "Ow, hey-!"

"Just shut up."

[luxhavenlight]

[One day I'll need to draw what Mars looked like back when he was human, but for now I'll go with this as his human faceclaim.]

[megwritesriddles]

Last updated: 14th of February 2025

❧ | indicates 18+

☠︎︎ | indicates dark potentially triggering themes (all warnings included in tags on posts)

✎ | indicates drabble/headcanons/shorter form content

Includes: Tom Riddle, (Young) Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom & Ron Weasley

15 complete works, 6 pending

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Tom Riddle

˚₊ · »-♡→ I Despise You | ❧

(3.4k words) Reader is the Head Girl and Riddle is the Head Boy, Riddle likes to push Reader's boundaries until it all boils over. Enemies to loves, hate sex.

˚₊ · »-♡→ Redhanded | ❧ ☠︎︎

(2.8k words) Reader is caught in the restricted section after curfew by none other than Head Boy Tom Riddle, notorious for his harsh punishments. But he has something else in mind, just for her.

˚₊ · »-♡→ Secret's Safe | ❧

(5.5k words) Reader discovers Riddle's true blood status and divulges this information to him. Riddle assumes she must be here to blackmail him and immediately attempts to seduce her, but things aren't all that simple for him actually going through with it.

˚₊ · »-♡→ In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams!) | ❧ ☠︎︎

(5.1k words) Riddle has to figure out a way to keep Reader happy and covering for his ever-increasing duties outside of the castle. What initially starts as a transaction escalates when they're both more willing than he expected, leading them to explore the slightly more forbidden together.

˚₊ · »-♡→ Tightening the Knot | ❧ ☠︎

(2.6k words) Reader is captured at the end of the war as the Death Eater's celebrate their victory. She is told she is to marry Tom Riddle, but can't figure out why he'd want her or why she isn't trying harder to escape…

˚₊ · »-♡→ As your secret admirer at Christmas | ✎

˚₊ · »-♡→ Christmas as Friends | ✎

˚₊ · »-♡→ On Valentine's Day | ❧ ✎

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Severus Snape

˚₊ · »-♡→ In the Back of Your Mind | ❧ ☠︎︎

(3.7k words) Severus is in love with you from afar. Severus is also very good at legilimency. You show a tiny bit of interest by helping him out in class and he loses a little more of his self-control.

˚₊ · »-♡→ Tied to You | ❧

(3.6k words) Severus has a girlfriend and he's about as shocked as anyone about it. She brings something out in him, something loving, something experimental, but also something slightly more sinister.

˚₊ · »-♡→ Snape with a Vampire Partner | ✎

˚₊ · »-♡→ and 4 pending requests...

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Draco Malfoy

˚₊ · »-♡→ Your Champion | ❧

(2.6k words) Reader waits for Draco in the changing rooms during his match, ready to celebrate with him when he wins, and celebrate they do, in their usual fashion.

˚₊ · »-♡→ and 1 pending request...

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Neville Longbottom

˚₊ · »-♡→ Heavenly Torture | ❧

(4.8k words) After Hogwarts, Reader and Neville end up working together at Noltie's Botanical Novelties. Reader soon discovers she holds an unexpected power over Neville, one she'll have fun exerting over him at her whim.

˚₊ · »-♡→ Sweetest Nectar | ❧ ☠︎︎

(11.1k words) Being at Hogwarts at university-level had it's perks, such as unsupervised days in the greenhouse with Neville. Reader finds herself in an unfortunate position thanks to a flower in the greenhouse and Neville has to figure out how to help while being a gentleman and preserving their friendship.

˚₊ · »-♡→ NSFW Alphabet | ❧ ✎

˚₊ · »-♡→ and 1 pending request...

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Ron Weasley

˚₊ · »-♡→ Coming soon...

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Find me on ao3!

Short-form requests open (keep in mind there is a backlog) Rules and who I write for

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━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

xoxoxo

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony drabble no1. new neighbor

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ drabble summary. you visit your new next-door-neighbor's house to welcome him to the neighborhood only to find issue with the fact that's he's insanely hot (note to any potential new readers: you can read this before starting the main storyline if you'd like!)

ᰔ main storyline summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ words. 2.4k

a/n. hiiiiii welcome to this first ihm drabble!! i just had an idea of writing a small scene of when ihm gojo & reader first met so :0 cracked this out in an hour. hope you enjoyy!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

There were a great deal of possibilities you had expected to see when you rang the doorbell to your new next-door-neighbors house, but none of them were quite what you had ended up seeing at the front door when it had swung open.

Perhaps it could’ve been a newlywed couple, looking stressed beyond belief with thin lines under their eyes over the agony that comes with moving into a new home with a partner. It could’ve been a teenager, possibly a broody one, because your parents moving the family out to some random town right in the middle of your high school years would’ve made any kid emo. Or it could’ve been an old wrinkly man, grumpy and a little sore to the eyes and entirely too irritated by someone ringing his doorbell because it fucked up the frequency transmitter on his hearing aids.

Instead, when the door flew open, your neck craned up to meet the eye contact of the most stupidly hot and handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Well, at least certainly in all of this smalltown in Dayton county. They don’t build men like that here. With stunning blue eyes that stare deep into yours, hair that’s boyishly shaggy yet looks so soft at the same time, tall, muscular, broad shoulders. And the soft cotton of his pajama long-sleeve shirt with the matching plaid pants clinging to the curves of strong biceps and thighs has you full-fledged staring at this—…dare-you-say, incredibly husband-material of a man.

You almost forget you have a boyfriend for a second. And, for the record, your boyfriend is a sexy piece of ass too (Choso if you’re reading this please know that I love you very much and Gojo would have to fight a feral bear to steal me away from you). But, god, was it a crime to find another man attractive occasionally?

He blinks at you, eyes wide like he was equally as shocked to take in the appearance of you. You’re also sure the last thing he expected was a visitor right now at 2:33pm on a Tuesday, but you had finally seen all the UHAUL trucks pulled up in his driveway and the men moving furniture into his house leave the neighborhood, so you felt now would be a good time to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” he finally says to you, rubbing the back of his neck like it’s sore, “uhh…can I help you?”

You’re momentarily speechless. “Oh! I’m—” you take a pause to breathe because words are suddenly unspeakable without at least a gallon of air in your lungs, “I’m y/n, I live next door.” You point to your house. “I just saw you moving in and so I…wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!” You hold out the paper plate wrapped in tin foil that you were holding. “I made some pumpkin bread for you.”

The corner of his mouth curls up slightly, eyebrows raising pleasantly. “Oh, that’s really sweet, thanks,” he says with a tone that suggests he’s surprised by the hospitality and you briefly wonder where he’s moved here from. He takes the plate from you and balances it on his palm.

An awkward silence.

“Uh, did you wanna—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind himself, “did you wanna come inside?”

You blink at him.

“I mean, the place is kind of a mess right now, but—”

“Yes,” you cut him off.

He smiles at you, relaxed now compared to that hesitance from before, and he uses his back to push the door open more while stepping aside for you to walk inside, and walk inside is exactly what you do.

The house is a little cold, with no heater running, and incredibly empty. It’s pretty much the exact copy layout of your house, as all houses in the neighborhood are, except the color tones within this one are much brighter. The foyer is crowded with stacked cardboard boxes, some open and some not, with styrofoam sprawled all across carpet and hardwood, and you take a moment to admire the seafoam green loveseat pressed flush up against one of the walls.

“Got it on Facebook Marketplace,” he tells you, and you glance over at him to see him watching you assess his furniture, “lots of surprisingly good finds on there.”

You smile at him and stand up straight.

“I’m Satoru, by the way,” he says, leaning his shoulder against the door now before crossing his arms, “sorry, I don’t think I introduced myself to you earlier.”

“Ohh, no worries. You’re probably tired from moving in?” you ask, trying not to feel awkward in this essentially-a-stranger’s house.

“Very,” he laughs.

“What made you move here?”

“Oh, just, uh, my job. My family’s out here too, so figured it’d be nice being a little closer to them. But I was in a bit of a rush to close on something out here, so I just bought the first place I could find.” He peers in towards the house, eyes darting across his empty dining room. You notice slabs of deconstructed wood are leaned up against the wall. “But it’s nice. Neighborhood’s nice too.”

“Oh yesss we have wonderful people maintaining it!” you tell him.

He flashes you one of those smiles again. “You’ve lived here a while?”

“Yes! I was born and raised here, actually,” you say and then point a finger in the direction of your house, “that’s actually the only house I’ve ever lived in.”

His eyes widened. “Wow, that’s rare.”

“Yuppp. Just my mom and I now.”

“Oh, is your mom the one that was out gardening yesterday?” he asks. “Pulling out weeds on the edges of the driveway?”

You sigh. “Yes. That’s her. Er, at least I’m pretty sure it is, because I always tell her not to garden anymore, but she never listens to me.”

He lets out a well-meaning scoff, and you wonder if he’ll ask you more questions about it, but he lets the conversation settle into a silence instead. You discretely steal a glance at his left hand when he untucks it from his crossed arms to scratch at his jaw, and you notice there’s no wedding ring on his finger.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asks.

You blink at him. “Oh, I—…sure.”

He leads you into the kitchen, which you notice is mostly set up with all the appliances out on the counters and glass cabinets filled with ceramic sets of mugs and plates. He has an espresso machine set up in the corner of the stover counter, and you follow him right up to it.

“Woooow an espresso machine, I’ve always wanted one of these.”

He flits his gaze to you with a smile on his face before he grabs the handle of the portafilter, twisting it to release it from the machine, and then he presses some button that pushes steam out of it. “It’s worth it if you’re a daily coffee drinker.”

You sigh, leaning your elbow on the counter as you watch him. “Oh, I survive off of coffee, please. I work as a night shift nurse at the ED over on Main Street, so I need all the caffeine I can get.”

“You’re a nurse? That’s good to know,” he says, measuring out beans on a small digital scale. You turn to face him a little more, entirely intrigued by the process now. “If I’m ever in a life or death situation, can I give you a call?”

“If you’re still able to give me a call, then you’re not in a life or death situation.”

He gives you another one of those smiles, a little cheekily lopsided this time, like he’s really enjoying this conversation with you. It’s probably something that’s pleasantly mentally stimulating to his exhausted mind as he’s likely spent the last three days or so talking to no one except the UHAUL truck people and the melancholic memorabilia within his boxes of stuff. It was as easy as any small talk could be, this conversation, and it’s coming a little too naturally for your own liking as well.

He puts the beans in the grinder, and you hear a whirring sound as they are ground into fine particles that release a rich aroma of bitter into the air.

“This seems awfully tedious. I take back my desire of wanting an espresso machine,” you comment, pushing your knuckles into your cheek now as you perch yourself up by an elbow on the counter.

He laughs as he sifts the grounds into the portafilter, breaking up any clumps, and then he twists it onto the espresso machine before placing a mug underneath it. “Yeah, there’s a steep learning curve with it, but once you perfect it, it’s pretty easy. A lot can go wrong that can affect the quality of the shot though, for sure.”

“Like what?” you ask, a little too interested.

“Uhh, you can over extract, which leaves kind of a bitter taste, or under extract, which makes it taste sour. Usually depends on the ground size or the tamping. Plus, when you switch beans, you’ve gotta experiment on the settings all over again.”

You hear the whirring of the machine plus the delicate steady drip of the espresso into the mug. “I have a headache just listening to that. Why bother at all?”

He nods his head slowly, glancing at the watch on his wrist, and after a set amount of seconds has passed, he turns the machine off then peers into the mug. “Well, taste it and see if it’s worth it,” he says, handing the mug to you.

You take it from him, the fragrance of coffee immediately making your mouth water. And you take a delicate sip of the coffee, a slight bitterness hitting your tongue followed immediately by sweetness from the crema that has your eyes widening.

“Oh. Oh wow. Incredibly worth it,” you say.

He laughs. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Gosh no, I’ll just have it like this, please.”

You both chat a little bit more as he makes himself a cup too. You notice that he has his coffee black, as essentially an Americano, which he pours over ice in a shiny glass even in the cool of autumn. 

Apparently he’s a real estate agent, selling properties a little out further than the county line, in more posh areas than here. Like all those cliff-side homes you see when you’re driving further out of town and always sigh to yourself wondering if you’ll ever get to live in a pretty house like that someday. 

His parents live nearby as well as his younger sister’s family and he has a niece who’s four years old. And you want to ask so badly if he has a family of his own as well, but if he did, wouldn’t they be here with him? 

“Holy shit this is amazing,” he says through a muffled mouthful of the pumpkin bread you brought for him, “you made this from scratch?”

No. You used a pre-made mix. “Oh gosh, yes, I’m something of a little baker, if you will.”

He nods, letting out an indulgent sigh as he chews, eyes shutting close tightly in satisfaction of the taste and you find it amusing. He has a physical build that you could only assume requires an immense amount of discipline, but it’s kind of cute to see he’s somewhat weak for sweets.

You glance at the time on your phone. “Ah, I have to get going. I need to take my mom somewhere, but um, it was really nice meeting you! Hopefully I’ll see you around in the neighborhood?”

He nods his head, “oh, yeah, definitely.”

Your cheeks warm a little.

He walks you to the front entrance, and you briefly glance out the window into his driveway. “Oh. There’s a boat.”

He walks up right next to you, his arm pressed against your shoulder as he stands close, and you note that he smells so nice, like shampoo and clean laundry. The softness of his pajamas brushes against your skin and it makes you borderline dizzy.

Choso would be pissed off to the nines if he knew you were feeling things for your next-door-neighbor. Cut it out already, you think to yourself.

“Oh they finally brought my boat in,” he comments, “sweet.”

“That’s yours?” you ask, turning to face him in surprise, “it’s huge!”

“Yup, just bought it,” he says, shoving his hands in his pants pockets as he walks up to the window to peer out the blinds. “A beauty, she is.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a she, it’s an it.”

“To you, maybe. But to me?…she’s so much more than that,” he says, but there’s some self-regarding hint of satire in his voice.

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping your shoes back on at the door. “It’s kind of…lengthy though. Where are you going to park it?”

He shrugs. “Probably right out there. Where it is right now.”

Where it is right now?!?! The hull is dangerously close to the entry of your driveway. There’s no way that would be agreeable with you. How are you supposed to pull your car in?

“Um. I’m pretty sure I’d have difficulties pulling my car in if you parked it there,” you tell him politely as he opens the door for you and you step out onto the concrete step of his front entrance.

You turn around to face him and see him squinting his eyes at his boat with inspection of your concern. Sorry for sounding repetitive, but it's seriously shocking. The way he looks. The way that small little expression—his eyes narrowing, brows furrowing, bottom lip slightly jutting out, all paired with the haphazard way his hair falls over his eyes—makes you stare at him like he’s some Grecian sculpture. It was a little concerning.

But, at the end of the day, attraction is merely cognitive, is it not? A social construct, if you will. Something that can go away just as easily as it comes, and then arrive once more as easily as it went away.

A pattern you’ll eventually realize a lot with your new next-door-neighbor, Gojo Satoru.

“Nah,” he says, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of drabble]

a/n. alternate universe where they fuck on the marble countertop of his kitchen island on first encounter pls

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taglist is closed

[lethalityandlustmoved]

And he’s back again. Same old shit, same old pain. He storms into his apartment screaming at nobody, throwing vases and punching walls and ripping everything that he has the strength to rip (which is a lot of things). It happened again, and he just can’t anymore. He. Just. Can’t.

He wants to call. He breaks a window. He almost cries. He smashes a lightbulb. His apartment’s a wreck and there’s almost nothing left to break. There’s wood and plaster and metal and glass all over the floor, and he’s covered in scratches. He picks up a picture frame with the full intention of breaking it over his knee before he sees what it is.

It’s. It’s a picture of him. Him and someone else from a very long time ago. Someone he’d thought he’d spend his whole life with. Someone he thought loved him.

He slams it against the wall.

After quite some time of this, he sinks to his knees in the middle of the wreckage. Everything is broken— except for the radio, which he hid from himself before he got too angry. He just ruined his engagement, he’s not ruining one of his only friendships.

He doesn’t cry. He thinks he’s out of tears. But he lays there, every movement slicing his skin open, and he lets his mind go blank.

Maybe he’ll call someone.

Or maybe he’ll just…

… sleep.

[luckynatured]

((This is a drabble that I just put onto my Ao3 account that I've talked about here. Basically; Hilbert sees Dream Mist depicting a nightmare of the Disto.rtion World.))

The Dream Mist hung heavy in the air. That wasn't unusual for Hilbert. Dealing with Dream Mist every once in a while just came with the territory of having a Musharna as a companion.

What was unusual about the Dream Mist was the color. It wasn't any shade of pink that he was accustomed to; not even the dark magenta that indicated one of his nightmares. It was a dark shade of purple, bordering on indigo. It was also dense - completely blocking out the mid-afternoon sunlight peeking through the windows.

It didn't help that the windows were both closed. Opening them seemed the only way to get rid of the Dream Mist fast; he didn't know what could be seen within it. His gut instinct practically screamed at him to get rid of it.

Strange, he thought. Never responded like that to Dream Mist. Maybe it's because it's not my nightmare.

Could it even be called a nightmare? As Hilbert walked through it, he only saw the weirdest things. Trees grew from the dead earth, waterfalls flowed upwards past upside-down buildings...there seemed to be droplets of water floating all over the place as well. One droplet floated closer to Hilbert, and the image of a small town could be seen from within.

The most unsettling part was the silence. It was like sound had been muted the moment he stepped into the Mist. The only thing he could hear were the echoes of his footsteps (unless it was the sound of his heartbeat).

"Merlot, whose dream did you eat?" Hilbert wondered aloud. It crossed his mind that the only other person it could have been was Lucas - he had been staying in his apartment for quite some time now. Hilbert wouldn't have put it past Merlot to eat one of Lucas' dreams out of boredom.

Hilbert only stopped when he saw a person clad in gray. The darkness hid the man's face - the only thing Hilbert could see was an eerie red light wrapped around their arms. The red light stretched out to wrap itself around two giant objects - or were they Pokemon? The objects seemed to thrash in the red light's hold, so maybe-?!

A unholy shriek rang through the air, and a third being made itself known. Were its eyes blue, or red? Hilbert couldn't be certain, all that he knew was that it was MUCH bigger than Reshi.

It's just a dream, Hilbert reminded himself as he stared up at this third being. Just a dream. It's not real.

Then why did those red-blue eyes seem to stare right at him-?!

Hilbert felt the gentle wind against his arms before the images faded away. He turned to the windows - someone had already opened them, and watched as the Dream Mist was filtered out of the room.

"Uh-?!" Hilbert knew this guy; he knew that legendary Pokemon could take on a human form. Reshi did it all the time. It would have been one thing if it was Reshi, but this was Lucas' patron legendary. It was a surprise to learn that Lucas was a Hero as well, although he and Aevus were always a little tight-lipped as to the latter's identity. If it had anything to do with what he saw in the nightmare...well, Hilbert couldn't find it in himself to blame either of them. "Aevus?"

Aevus said nothing. He marched over to Hilbert and circled him once, looking to the world like a man on a mission. What that mission was, Hilbert couldn't possibly say. After a moment of circling, he stopped in front of Hilbert and stared intently at his face.

"Look directly at me." Aevus instructed. Hilbert obeyed, and noticed how Aevus seemed to be looking past him and not at him. What in the world was he looking for?

Once he seemed satisfied with what he saw, Aevus let out a loud exhale. "You truly are blessed by fortune."

Flabbergasted, Hilbert watched as Aevus marched towards the door. The legendary only stopped to give a wave of the hand. "Excuse me."

"Wait, what?! You can't just-!" Despite Hilbert's protests, Aevus showed himself out. Despite that, Hilbert continued his rant; "What is that supposed to mean, Aevus?! HELLO?!"

[g00seg1rl]

Sweeten and Savor

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

A/N: Just a short, fluffy drabble! Enjoy lovelies!

Azriel tapped the marred pad of his finger on the curve of Eris’s soft shoulder, twice. Thrice. Four times-

Eris swatted his hand away and lifted his head to scowl adorably; his straight nose scrunched up, the top corner of his pretty, pouted lips pulled up and the best part in Azriel’s opinion, was the little glare that came along with the Vanserra Scowl (trademark pending). Almond amber eyes squinted with ire, gorgeous. Annoying Eris had always been Azriel’s guiltiest of pleasures.

He looked to Eris’s lips as they parted, expecting a lovely, snarky, ‘can I help you?’ to which Azriel would mention how therapeutic he found Eris’s mouth, but the undoing of the Scowl (there were multiple applications pending), the relaxing of Eris’s lips, brought Azriel’s attention back to his kohl-lined eyes that were overtaken by reciprocated adoration.

Copper brows settled into their perfect places, his full lips resumed their typical plush position and as he spoke it was with soft reverence, “I love you.”

Azriel let his eyes close as his head fell back to the headboard with a faint thud. He hummed contently, “Say it again, please,” he requested wholeheartedly.

Eris leaned towards Azriel’s temple and spoke into his ear, into his heart, into everything that he was, “I love you.”

As the darkness let him savor the syllables he let the chill run through his nerves. His spine decompressed and he took a deep breath through his nose, appreciating the expansion of his lungs.

He exhaled, pursing his lips slightly and pushing the air out slowly, but preserved that serenity as he opened his eyes to Eris, smiling beautifully over him.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!!

Thank you @the-darkestminds for beta reading on SUCH short notice, you’re the fuckin best, i love youuu 😘

This was going to be staying in my docs app ngl but @astro-h0e-4azris jerked off off my ego a bit so I chose to share 😌 thank you mami ily 🥰

Some lovely Azris folk 🥰 @nus4y @jules-writes-stories @pippsmcgee @chunkypossum @mudandmire @iftheshoef1tz @mistandmemories @fourteentrout @brunetterebel010 @talibunny30 @neciebee @molcat07 @ninthcircleofprythian please lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future fluff 💗

[breakmeoff]

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[talk-danmei-to-me]

I've either had the best or the worst idea ever! (You decide)

Inspired by that post about being at the club/writing fanfic.

Danmei Fanfic Nightclub ♡

A.k.a Friday Night Danmei (cos it sounds better)

So how it would work is that fanfic writer blogs that want to take part could take requests (like a dj) based on who/what they write e.g. you could request smutty hualian/wangxian/ranwan drabbles from me (Ximang pending).

Obviously it would only be drabbles like 500 words max. You can't request someone write you a novel 😜

I'm thinking I could make my pinned post a list of all the blogs that want to take part as a base for people to come and bounce off wherever they fancy. Also you can tap in/out whenever you want. You don't have to write drabbles every week.

Other fun things to do at the club would be to share snippets of current wips, promote fics that you've read and enjoyed, or promote your own works. Share headcanons/fic ideas or fans of work could send asks with questions about fics they are enjoying. And everything would be tagged #fridaynightdanmei so you could track everyone's shenanigans.

Also run times for when the club opens and closes e.g. mine would be 7pm - Midnight. People could set their own times and depending on the amount of time zones in play, it could end up being a whole day event. Every week ♡

Although, since it's a club, I will say, you gotta be 21+ (legal to drink in multiple countries) to play.

Basically, it's a fanfic themed danmei nightclub without leaving your house. Iconic.

If this is something you'd be interested in doing, comment/reblog send me a message and if you want to visit the club like this post. Depending on interest, we could potentially start next week!