#my writing ew

[hofudlaus]

also posting these two on their own :-) based on This post by @outpastthemoat

[willowser]

"i ain't takin' a fuckin' bath."

katsuki's half-undressed, standing in the kitchen with the fridge doors wide open; shirtless, shoulders broad and muscles round and taut, cool air raising goosebumps across his exposed skin. his un-buttoned tac pants are dangerously low on his hips, so low that you wonder—while staring at the dimples of his back—if he's doing it on purpose.

the dewy sheen of sweat he'd come home with has gone matte, leaving him in a thin, sticky, grimy layer that is grimace-inducing to feel. like most nights, dirt and soot and even blood—grown dark and less worrisome with time—color him haphazardly, strewn across his body; a mosaic of dynamight, made by his own hands.

"but you stink," you fail to suppress a smile when he snaps his head around, to fix you with an ugly look that you return. he manages to hide his own amusement in the bulge of his bicep. "i'm serious! a bath will help you relax!"

turning back to the open fridge, he grumbles, "i am relaxed," in a tone that doesn't sound relaxed. at all.

"come on," you urge, shuffling up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist despite all his dried grease and muck. "you go first and i'll be there in a minute."

that catches his attention enough that he finally closes the doors, facing you as he runs a lazy hand over his stomach. to his credit, he does look a bit more relaxed than he had when he'd come through the door—but the set of his jaw is still too stern, brow only ever furrowed, a little more argumentative than usual, even if it's harmless.

katsuki seems to consider your unspoken proposition, before finally surrendering with a roll of his eyes. "fine, but i'm takin' a shower like a grown ass man."

"no!" you groan, latching onto his arm when he moves to step around you. you try to dig your heels into the ground, but you're in the kitchen in socks, and katsuki only yanks you after him with a wicked grin. "bath! a bath will help you relax, i mean it! i've got lavender oils!"

"i ain't using' your frilly shit!"

he finally slips from you when you sputter out a laugh, tugging free from your grip before throwing you a look that is hot in more ways than one. innocent as you aimed to be, something tightens in your stomach; awakened at the sight of him.

you warn, "i'm only coming if you're in the bath!" and his loud, exaggerated groan echoes nearly throughout your entire house, swallowing up your chirpy laugh.

—but, much to your surprise, he listens.

you let him soak for a good five minutes before following after, and when you find him, he's got his head leaned back over the edge, elbows resting on either side of the tub, legs bent and knees sticking up out of the water. handsome as ever, you think, a little dreamy, before the marble of him shifts at your arrival.

he only opens one eye, and you can see already the tension has drained from his face; half-asleep, a little bloodshot and breathing too even to convince you otherwise.

"well, well, well," you murmur, lowering to the floor on your knees after his eye slips shut again. "look at you, princess."

katsuki makes a haughty noise of irritation, but doesn't bite back: a dead giveaway of his exhaustion. instead his hand finds the material of your shirt, tugging on it lightly before he slurs out, "get y'r ass in the tub."

you'd bite his fingers if they weren't still disgusting, but you place a teeny kiss on the cleanest spot you can see on his wrist. "i don't need a bath, but thanks."

"hah?" he grunts, eye shooting open again as he frowns at you. when you only smile coyly at him, he raises his head and glares at you properly. "y'dirty liar, you said—"

"i said i'd be right behind you," you grin. "not that i'd be getting in."

the water sloshes up against the sides as he straightens his posture, baring his teeth at you as he prepares, you think, to lunge out and haul you in with him despite a screaming protest—but you reach forward just before he can, dipping a hand down into the warmth right between his thighs.

katsuki jumps, seriously, leg kicking out so hard that his heel slams into the edge of the tub, when you gently hold him where he's soft. "jesus!" he all but yelps, eyes going a little wide as he realizes what you've done. what you've made of him.

he's still—marble-still—air sucking in sharply between his parted, frozen lips as you touch him, and heat pools so obviously, so suddenly, in his cheeks, sweet enough that you want to bite into the apples of them. in your hand he swells thick, quickly, a little slippery from the soap he's already added to the water.

all his tension returns, as a different strain; katsuki swallows, hard, as his eyes dart back and forth between your own and where your hand disappears into the water; when you gently rub your thumb back and forth across the tip of him, his back straightens, even moreso, and, you don't think he knows it, but his legs part even further.

an invitation if you'd ever seen one.

he finally comes back to life when you lean in close enough to nudge your nose to his, just to see him blink.

he's so cute, you want to eat him alive.

"the f-fuck are y'doin'?" he whispers, eyes dropping back down as you stroke him lightly, just enough to coil him tighter. at the end of the tub, water sloshes quietly from the movement, and katsuki's ears burn.

you've caught him entirely off guard, and if it wasn't clear before, it becomes crystalline when you kiss him, deeply. he's lazy to reciprocate, breathing softly, open-mouthed, as you press a soft kiss to his top lip and then to his bottom, whispering his name back to him just to hear his sharp inhale.

you time a clever stroke of your wrist with the firm press of your mouth to his, insistent and fast, urging the wildness of him to catch up, to come out. it hits him all at once—your desire, his own, the heat of it all—and his hand shoots out of the water to grip the back of your neck, a deep groan slipping from his chest as his cock kicks in your hand.

you try more than once to pull back from him with a sneaky little laugh, but his fingers tangle in your hair and he kisses your teeth and you think, maybe, you're not teasing him enough. his knees knock lightly against the ceramic as he tries to spread them, even further, and his hips shift up with every slick pump of your fist, urgent and eager.

he speaks, furiously, against your lips, when you snatch your hand away, instead teasing your fingers along the inside of his thigh. "get—in th'fuckin' tub." his shoulders tremble, ever so slightly. "i ain't askin' again."

you laugh against him and his nostrils flare. "you didn't ask at all!"

"so quit your bullshit already."

you lick his bottom lip, nipping at the fat of it gently before weaving your own hand into his damp hair. "no," you tease, like a brat, but when you tug enough at the strands, he gets the hint and allows you to pull away. "i'm trying to help you relax, you know?"

katsuki doesn't respond at first, only huffing out a frustrated sound when you wrap your hand around his length again. his face is steaming, despite how firm he's trying to be; your own desire strikes hot when his head tips back just slightly, jaw straining as he grits his teeth.

"no," he finally grunts, eyes dark and pinned to you. "'s'the last thing i feel, is-is relaxed."

"hmm," you make a point to frown and look away, like you're thinking, but katsuki's impatience wins out and he drags you back in for a shuddering kiss. he's fervent, now, nipping at your lip and brushing his tongue against your own eagerly, trying to muffle a painful sound against your cheek. "that's too bad," you tell him—but you don't think he hears you, really, over his low curse and the returning slosh of water against the tub.

but when you ask him again, only a handful of minutes later—his boneless answer is precisely what you were looking for.

[drurrito]

Idk what would be a good title….

summary: you get a haircut

Pairings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: idk reader has short hair now I guess

————

You feel the breeze on your neck as you walk through the compound’s entrance. You only make it a few steps inside when someone steps out in front of you.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“Haha—very funny,” you roll your eyes and Bucky flashes a big, bright smile.

“You finally did it,” his smile doesn’t break, “it looks so good!”

“Thank you! I’d hope so,” you run a hand through your new hair and let Bucky do the same.

“How does it feel?” Steve walks up, Bucky is too busy ruffling your hair to pay him any mind.

“Like I’m going to save a lot on hair products,” you grin.

“No one can grab your hair in the field anymore,” Bucky adds, falling in step with you as you walk towards the common area. Tony skids to a halt when he sees you.

“Looks like my Barber did a good job,” Tony sounds so smug, but you can’t blame him.

“Definitely,” you palm the back of your neck, reveling in the way your tapered neckline feels under your skin. You’re too enamored with your new hair to notice Natasha walking in.

“What’s all this?” Natasha asks only seconds before she realizes. The boys part for her and she’s only inches away from you.

“You look really good,” she says lowly, sincerely too.

“Thank you,” your jaw couldn’t be any more stiff.

She reaches out a cautious hand, waiting for your approval. You try to nod as casually as possible and she runs her fingers through it.

“Soft,” she mumbles, you count your breaths as she scratches your scalp. You have to stifle a shiver as her nails tickle the skin right behind your ears. Natasha steps back and your nerves have to bungee jump back into equilibrium.

Natasha leaves, only giving a curt nod to the boys before she reaches the doorway. She gives you a parting glance, her eyes traveling from the penthouse to the basement in her view of you.

It’s only when you can’t hear her footsteps anymore that your lungs finally fill with air again. Bucky gives you a nudge to reel you back into reality.

“I should cut my hair more often.”

[bl0odsharkk]

pre-transition tord lives on my mind 24/7 i have so many hcs for him

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[eriyu]

what baffles me about the Gridania situation isn't that the problems "still" haven't been dealt with; it's that the story seems less interested in exploring them than it did in ARR. there is so much ARR content that clearly acknowledges that the racism is a problem, that the xenophobia is a problem, that the elementals are a problem...

but later storylines are just more and more content to gloss over it all. as of 6.5 we just have Nophica telling us "teehee, listen to the elementals; all the shitty things they do are just because they love too much :)"

[torchstelechos]

I do think its really important to remember that SY was suppose to be the villain character but its only because of his kindness and newly gained life that he didn’t end as one. In the very beginning of the story we learn that Peerless Cucumber Bro often left comments on how SJ didn’t get his dues and needed to be punished more, and only after he transmigrated did he acknowledge how awful of a death SJ had. He also made point to explain that he only read the book for LBH, which he noted to enjoy his decisive actions and deft ability to kill. Markedly, he liked his brutality and personality over the erotica that the majority of PIDW fans enjoyed. Peerless Cucumber Bro is someone who loves action and the ability to cut right to the chase, something that he does not do and most likely has difficulty with in his world.

Speaking of, it is something to note that Peerless Cucumber bro is rich. He had head chefs, he could pay for a 6k+ chapter book of erotica in 20 days, he noted that he could not understand SJs envy and ambition for power since he lives well, and he even noted to himself that his family was well off. He is incredibly wealthy, and it shows. Which is important to note because he, not once, showed any guilt or remorse on dying and leaving his family behind. Yes, he sometimes refers to people as being similar to his family but he never showed any pain for losing that life like he did when he lost LBH. This is important because I genuinely think SY was depressed and self destructive to himself, which goes against popular HC that he was chronically/terminally ill (I do like this HC and like how its portrayed in fanfiction). It would explain how he ended up dying all alone by himself, and how blase he was to his own life and death.

SQQ is a self destructive force who ended up dying three times, and didn’t feel anything about death itself. He was worried about others and the effect it had on them, but for himself it was up and on again like it never happened. He does not care for his health, had self isolated as SY to the point he died alone, and has a horrible self esteem to the point that he continuously agrees when other people put him down and often calls himself the villain. Even though we have seen the evidence of someone who is always being thrust into new situations and awful plots, he calls himself lazy and easy going. He hides his thoughts and feelings behind his fan and has a remarkably thin face. At the very base of his actions and his thoughts, he is self destructive, powerful, and smart. This is the set up for a villain.

However, when shown the actual people in front of him and forced to act as SJ did towards LBH and his disciples, he flinches from it. He notes that it happening in front of him was different. His entire self soothing comedy monologue went quiet when he had to enforce the Endless Abyss scene, and grieved for the childish innocence he killed from one of his favourite people. SY was set up to be the villain and obviously thinks of himself as one, but can not act as one. If he had the choice LBH would have been his sticky sweet white lotus disciple for as long as LBH wished to be.

His kindness, as seen in the book, is what turned him from being “the scumbag villain” to the protagonist we see in the novels. Which, yes, he is a protagonist! He even has the protag halo that LBH has and its very funny in the meta way for SQQ not to realize this, but thats for another post. But he loves his disciples, he loves his peak lord siblings, he loves his Binghe, he loves his new life, and he is kind. That is what kept him from being the villain he sees himself as, his kindness and love for others. Whether that be romantic, platonic, or familial, he loves the people he has met and he treats them kindly. That is why it is important to remember that he was set up as the villain by everything in the story we do not see, but what we do see is him continuously changing the story to fit a new genre that lets as many people as he can save live. Sorry sorry, I just think about SY being set up as a villain so much. It changes a lot of views I have on the series when I remember the duality of SYs story and character development.

[concreteburialplot]

The Wonder Of You

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 4.5k

summary: you surprise your boyfriend with festive lingerie for his birthday. he shows you just how grateful he is with all the love he has in his corazón.

warnings: sweet, soft, FLUFFY, making love, soft dom!nick, festive (xmas-y), established dom/sub relationship, quite domestic, fingering/handjob, oral [m receiving], throat fucking, p n v, creampie, praise, again nick has a big fat one sorry it's just canon at this point - massive cocks are rare but he's got one ok, 18+ MDNI

a/n: happy birthday nicky🩷

And when you smile, the world is brighter You touch my hand, and I'm a king

Your kiss to me is worth a fortune Your love for me is everything

I'll guess I'll never know the reason why You love me as you do

That's the wonder The wonder of you

- 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪 // 𝙀𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙨 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙮

Your boyfriend sits in the living room while you spend time curating the perfect set up for his birthday in your bedroom. You already lit the candles, mostly unscented but some which smell like a warm campfire and one that smells like candy cane, because you know he likes that one especially. There’s a playlist softly playing in the background, curated with a mix of his favorite songs that set a tone, lots of Deftones of course.

You undress and pile your clothes on top of the hamper before slipping on the set you bought for his birthday. It was lacy red triangles covering your breasts and it flowed down over your torso in a light mesh. You step into what is really a joke and an overstatement of being called underwear – it was just a couple of straps, completely bare in the middle between your legs. A pair of puffballs hang just above your ass and the edges of the babydoll top are lined in white fluff. Stepping in front of the full-length mirror you smooth out the mesh and take in your silhouette. Your immediate reaction is discomfort, feeling like these are clothes you don’t belong in. The outfit is too revealing, too holiday-y, too colorful, too much.

But you know how much he loves Christmas and how much he won’t care what you’re wearing once he sees you in lace. Man brains are quite simple after all, he probably won’t be able to tell you the color of the outfit when he’s done with you.

You sigh, making a mental note to push your insecurities to the side for the night and try to just embrace your sensuality for him.

Your hand hesitates before turning the doorknob and peaking your head out. He must’ve gotten bored since you see him working on some tattoo design on his iPad.

“Okay. Ready.” You say quickly before shutting the door and making it to the edge of the bed. You sit and unwrap a candy cane to suck on.

It’s clear he was unsure what exactly he was walking into by the surprised look on his face as he takes in the room before landing on you.

“Oh.” His eyes wide and locked on you. “This is what you’ve been working on?” He asks, crossing the room over to you. “What’s all this for?”

“Your birthday silly.” You place the end of the candy cane in your mouth and pull it out with a pop, your eyes fixated on his.

He glances over at the clock on the nightstand reading 11:14 pm. “Well, it’s not my birthday quite yet.”

“I figured we could start off strong.” You shrug, “I’m sure by the time we’re done it’ll be your birthday anyway.”

“Quite a bold assumption, with how fucking good you look.” He jokes, not being able to stay off your body.

“Mmm.” You hum around the candy cane before pulling it out to speak. “I’m sure we can make it last.”

You find his wrist and carefully bring it down while you part your legs for him, letting his fingers find your exposed pussy.

His eyes round at the discovery, “Fuck you’re so wet already.” He mumbles, cupping your cheek to tilt your face up to him. “You’re this wet just from wanting to please me?”

You hum an “mhm” around the sugary cane looking up at him.

His fingers glide up your folds exploring you while his eyes can’t look anywhere besides your occupied mouth. “Fuck baby.” The hand on your cheek slides down to around your throat, gently with no pressure. “I need that to be my cock in your mouth.”

You knew it wouldn’t take long for him to slip into his usual self. You hook your finger at the curve in the cane and slide it past your lips, letting your lips stay parted for him.

“Mmm.” His hand around your throat slithers up to your jaw and tugs his thumb across your lips before dipping it into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around his finger and suck on him just as you would his cock. Your eyes never leave his as you do so.

“Oh, what a good girl, getting a head start.” He praises which only fuel you.

You hum and nod around his finger while your hands fumble to find his zipper. You waste no time trying to palm him over his jeans, you don’t want to keep him waiting on his birthday after all. You tug his pants and underwear down past his knees, letting his hard cock spring free smacking against his stomach. No matter how long you’ve been together the sight of his size never ceases to amaze you. It never fails to fill your tummy with excitement and fear.

You don’t hesitate to begin working his length in your hands. His skin is silky smooth to the touch and the blood rushing through his member makes his veins so prominent beneath your fingertips.

The feeling of your hands has his eyes fluttering closed for just a second. His fingers never halted between your legs, now slipping into your entrance.

He leans down and presses his forehead against yours before pulling his thumb from your mouth. His gray-blue eyes lovingly track yours as he holds your jaw gently. “You are so pretty.” He says softly in the space between you two, so quiet you’d think the room was full of people and he only wanted you to hear.

A blush coats your cheeks, and you shake your head. “No, no. I look so silly.”

“Uh uh,” He nudges his nose against yours sweetly, “You know better than to say no to me.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, because for some reason it makes you feel so safe when he asserts himself like that. “Yes sir.” You reply meekly.

The edges of his lips tug up into a grin, “That’s my girl.” He whispers.

He pulls away just a bit to glance around the room, the red LED lights with the Christmas lights hung around the room and all the candles lit. “You did this all for me?” He asks quietly, holding your chin up.

“Of course.” You whisper back, looking up at him in awe. Even when his hair in a messy bun and thick rimmed glasses, he’s still the most handsome man in the world to you. “You work so hard. You deserve a little fun. And what’s more fun than having me be a toy for you?”

A chuckle escapes his lips, “While I can’t argue with that, I don’t need all of this for my birthday. It’s just another day to me, you know that.”

“I know. But I love you.” You state softly, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “You deserve everything, and I just want to make you feel good. I want to show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiles and leans down to your lips pressing a long kiss against them. “Well, let’s get that pretty mouth of yours to work then, hm?”

Rosy-pink tints your cheeks and a flurry of butterflies swirl in your tummy. You nod and let him pull his fingers from you. He slips them into his mouth and sucks them clean, humming at your taste. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

“Sh.” You wave off his compliment, mostly because it worsens the warmth on your cheeks.

The bed squeaks a bit as you readjust to lay flat on your stomach to be level with his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. Thick and massive, the first half of his shaft a darker shade of his olive skin tone, with the second half much lighter. His tip swollen and pink with a driblet of precum pooling at the head.

You take no time in licking a fat strip up his slit before taking his head into your mouth. He lets out a grunt at the stimulation of your warm mouth around him. His hand finds your head and tangles his fingers into your hair.

You savor him, rolling swirls on the underside of his cock and then circling around the tip. His head is so big it almost fills your entire mouth, so you use your hands to take care of the rest of his length as you begin bobbing on him.

“Fuck.” He groans, tugging at your hair a bit, “Fuck that feels so good.”

You swoon at the praise which makes you work harder. Your hands working him, squeezing around his shaft for extra stimulation. You move up and down on him, taking as much of him in your mouth as you can, letting him hit the back of your throat each time.

“God, look how good you are for me, taking me so well.” He grunts a bit, rutting his hips for work just a little, knowing that too much might hurt you.

Your heart swells at his words and the noises he’s making, you can tell how much he’s enjoying himself and that’s all you wanted. You wiggle your ass up a bit just to show off just how little the strappy lingerie covers you.

“Mmm.” He hums, his hand running down your back and squeezing a cheek before landing a hard smack against it.

While you half expected it, it still stings but it’s exactly what you wanted. You know he won’t hurt you too much tonight since he’s being so sweet but usually, he loves hurting you and you love taking it.

You whine around his member and take him even deeper down your throat. You try your best to suppress a gag the deeper you go on him, but it’s not that successful. His fingers curl stiffer around your hair at the sound and swivels his hips forward ever so slightly, enough to make you gag again. He chuckles at your struggle, deriving twisted pleasure out of it. When you don’t give him a warning sign he pushes further down your throat. His favorite thing is testing just how far you’ll go for him. He loves how hard you work for him, and he doesn’t take it for granted, he loves watching his best girl choke on his cock. 

You whine around him again and look up at him with your eyes filling with tears from the pain of his girth in your throat.

His lips pull to a sinister smirk at the sight of your makeup running down your face. “Oh my, look at you.” He loosens his grip in your hair and instead combs through it as he speaks. “You look so fucking gorgeous with your pretty mouth full of my cock.”

The praise alone has you nearly dripping on the bed and fills your heart with loving pride. You want nothing more than to please him and make him happy, especially on his birthday.

You moan with your mouth full and looking up at him through your thick lashes and he looks down at you in awe.

“Can I try something with you, my love?” He asks sweetly, as if he doesn’t have the power to command you to do whatever he wanted.

You pull off of him with a pop, nodding with a string of drool still hanging from his tip to your mouth.

“How about you lay on your back for me huh? Hang your head off the edge of the bed.”

Fear slithers up your spine at the idea of him having that much more access to your throat from that angle.

Nick picks up on your hesitation and bends down to your eyelevel, taking your chin gently between his fingers. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to baby. But I promise I’ll be gentle, okay? You can pat my thigh if you need me to stop.”

You tug at your bottom lip in thought but ultimately agree with an “okay” in an already raspy voice. You do as he asked and flipped onto your back, letting your head hang just off the mattress edge.

“Good girl.” He stretches out the words as he watches you put your body on display for him.

His leans down you as soon as you’ve settled. He uses both hands to gently finish brush all the rogue hairs away from your face and neck. His tattooed hands then find your cheeks and cupping them. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” He smiles, just taking in the wonder of you. “I can’t wait to make a mess out of you.”

You beam up at him and he can’t help but widen his grin. His thumb rubs your cheek tenderly before leaning down to press a kiss to your messy lips. He nudges his nose against yours, “I love you so fucking much, Princess.” He whispers.

Your heart swells at your favorite petname. With the way he treats you, he always made you feel like a princess, and he always made you feel so taken care of, so protected.

You were his. Completely, totally, entirely.

You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.

“I love you too Nicky.” You reply softly in the same low volume.

You let there be moment of comforting silence between you, your foreheads pressed against each other, his hands lovingly holding your head. You revel in the deep adoration you have for one another.

“I’m ready.”

“Okay my doll.” He presses another peck on your lips before returning to his original standing position.

He takes hold of his member by the base and uses it to press his swollen head against your partially parted lips. You open up for him, giving him full access to your mouth. He slides his length in, moving past your tongue immediately going for the throat. While the new position allows him to get deeper, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it doesn’t trigger your gag reflex nearly as much as the previous position. This discovery allows you to relax and let him have his way with you.

He starts slow to test the water with long deep strokes but soon picks up speed. His hips thrust in and out of your mouth vigorously getting lost in it.

“Gah -  fuck.” He groans out in a hiss. His hand smothers down around your neck, pressing down on the sides a bit. He wanted to feel himself destroy your trachea.

He leans forward a bit, only shoving himself down your throat more, to trace his fingers down your front finding your closed, bent legs. He taps your thigh softly, “C’mon baby, let me see that pretty pussy of yours.”

You didn’t think it was possible to feel anything other than the monster in your throat but still, your cheeks heated up and a flutter grew between your legs.

You bend to him, like you always do, obeying him out of devotion not out of direction. His hand slides down your inner thigh as you spread for him. You feel a tinge of insecurity and maybe embarrassment in your revealing lingerie, the crotchless thong offering no coverage for you.

His fingers glide up between your folds, circling around your clit before reaching further down and gathering the juices at your entrance. From this angle he can’t dip inside you but god just the proximity of his touch has you pulsing around nothing. He retracts his reach and brings his fingers to his mouth, slipping them in desperately needing the taste of you. He groans around his fingers covered in your slick and continues to roll his hips harshly into your throat as he savors you.

“God, fuck baby.” He groans and slowly pulls from your throat. As uncomfortable as it was having him lodged there, it brings a vague feeling of emptiness. You love having him inside you, one way or another.

Drool connects his member to your mouth in strands, his cock coated in saliva.

“I need your fucking pussy baby. I need to feel you.” He says, slipping out of the rest of his clothes, his body on full display.

His body was tattooed almost completely. Most people wouldn’t consider a body like his anything special perse, he wasn’t muscular or toned really, mostly just lean. Except for some muscle in his arms from playing bass and lugging around instruments all the time. He’d been very skinny most of his life but as he’s gotten older there was thin extra layer around his tummy, which you loved. As long as you’d known him, he never liked to show much skin, he was never one to be shirtless for no reason. Which you never really understood because to you, he was the most attractive man in any room. But since he wasn’t fond of showing skin, there were parts of him only you got to see. Tattoos only you knew were there and knew the stories of. Tattoos only you got to trace with your fingers and your tongue.

Loving him and catering to him was an art only you knew.

You nod and sit up, but before you even get a chance to breathe, he’s grasped your thighs and tugged you the edge of the bed. He whisks you up prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. Your arms slink around his neck and you once again press your forehead against his, this time getting a good view of his eyes. In the dim light with the faint red glow from the light strips, his eyes look extra green. You loved how his eyes could change depending on the setting. It amazed you how no matter the color, blue, green or grey, they always looked perfect for him.

“You are so, so good for me. I couldn’t ask for a better girl.” He says softly.

“You mean that?” You ask past the strain in your throat, leaning forward a bit to be even closer with him.

“Of course, my darling. Look at all you’ve done for me, and how good you make me feel.” He gushes.

“I do?” You hum ghosting against his lips.

“Mhm.” He hums back.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, you reciprocate, tangling your fingers in his messy black hair before lengthening the kiss. It’s soft, sweet, loving, patient.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to escalate into a passionate flame. He climbs up onto the bed clumsily with you still wrapped around him. He carefully drops you in the middle of bed, your head landing on plush pillows without interrupting your kiss.

Your lips and tongues dance together as his hands wander your body. His soft hands gliding your every curve beneath the thin babydoll mesh. He detaches from your lips and begins kissing down your neck. His breathing is rapid and needy.

“I love you. I love every part of you,” He says hastily between open mouth kisses. “Every fucking part.”

You’re dizzy with how much you love him. “I love you too.”

He’s so fucking worked up that he’s already rutting the tip of his cock up and down your folds, putting pressure against your buzzing clit.

You whine at the sensation of his tip against your sensitivity and his sucking on the weak spot on your neck. Your hand tangles in his hair, gripping it with need.

As much as you don’t want to interrupt the sweetness of it all, you need him in a much different way. “Please fuck me, fuck I need your cock so fucking bad please.” You beg, the ache between your thighs screaming for relief.

He chuckles against your neck, even though you can tell he needs it just as bad. It doesn’t take much to bring you both back to your normal depravity. “Hm. You’re gonna have to do better than that. What is it you need baby?”

You groan a bit in defiant impatience. “Your cock. I need your fucking cock.”

“Hm. A little sassy are we? Not even a please that time.” He rolls his hips into you, sliding the underneath of his length between your soaked lips. “Let’s try again. Be more specific, what do you want?”

You huff, over his delaying. “I want your big fat fucking cock to fuck me raw. Please.”

“That’s my good girl.” The edges of his lips curl to a smirk, “Well. I think we can arrange that.”

Before you could even respond he’s already pressed his tip into your entrance. He wants to ram right into you, you can tell, but he knows better than that. He’s gotten really good at knowing how to stretch you out properly. His thumb finds your sensitive nub and begins rolling tight circles into it to help you relax around him.

“That’s it baby.” He reassures you. “You’re doing so good for me.” He fills you slowly, inch by inch carefully until he’s bottomed out. You hiss at the pain of him inside you. He fills you entirely and the stretch burns at first but sweetens when he begins moving in and out of you. Deep grumbly groans fill his chest at the feeling you tight around him.

“Fuck.” You wince a bit but let your eyes flutter close.

His movements start slow, but you feel his restraint bubbling beneath your fingertips like a volcano. “You’re doing such a good job, Princess, taking me so fucking good.” He groans into your neck.

His fingers work diligently on your pulsing clit, helping ease the pain a bit. You’ve been worked up all night thinking about this moment, combined with how his cock reaches the deepest parts of you and how his fingers work where you need him, you feel like you could explode any second.

“I’m trying to go slow baby, but you just feel so fucking good.” He says between the breathy moans that escape him. His actions match his statement, his hips working in quick but deep thrusts in and out of you.

You whine loudly at his words, only worsening you impending climax. Tingle fill your body down to your legs that wrap around his waist. You love seeing and feeling just how much he can’t control himself with you. The knot in your tummy is so tight it feels like it’s about to snap.

“I’m close.” You warn hastily, unsure of how much longer you’ll last – and you know he won’t like it if you don’t ask for permission first. “Can I cum? Please – fuck, please I’m so close.”

His fingers on your clit speed up just a bit to help you over your finish line. “Cum for me baby, c’mon cum all over my cock.”

Bright ecstasy blooms from where he works on you, sending a blazing buzzing across your skin. Explosions fill your tummy and your heart beats so fast it feels like it could rupture.

“Don’t fight it Princess, go ahead, give in to me.” He hums just beneath your ear.

Your nails dig deep into his back as your spine curves violently up from the mattress. Screams curses and moans rip through your chest and fill the room.

“Oh my, there we go.” His thrusts speeding up beginning to chase his own orgasm. “That’s my good girl, cumming so hard for me.”

His deep raspy voice and the way he’s talking you through with a bit of overstimulation from his persistent fingers pushes you over a different edge, feeling yourself squirt your juices all over his cock.

“Oh, look at that,” He lets out a strained groan. “I know it’s so much isn’t it?”

You cling onto him, biting down on his shoulder as you ride out your orgasm. His thrusts get quick and sloppy and hard, probably getting pushed over his own edge by the way your walls spasm around him.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He growls, his hands sliding beneath your thighs and hooking behind your knees to keep you in place. He slams hard into you repeatedly until he goes rigid, and you feel his cock twitch inside you – which with how large he is, is a bit painful but you love it. Milky white paints your walls and fills you up fully, pouring out of you before he even pulls out.

He rests atop of you and lets himself soften a bit before pulling from you. It’s an odd feeling being so full then being so empty, but at least you have his cum pooling inside of you for now.

He falls next to you and your chests rise and fall in time. After you’ve both come down a little, you look over at each other with glossy eyes and soft smiles.

-

After you both have showered and cleaned up, you change into some cozy pajamas. A unplanned cold front had rolled in so the warmest pajamas you had were matching Christmas ones. Nicholas lit the fireplace while you made your signature hot chocolate.

You cozy up next to him on the couch, beneath a blanket and a cat or two. The fireplace warmth and the lit Christmas tree are the only things lighting the room besides the glow of the mostly full moon from outside the window. You nestle your head on his shoulder and watch the fire crackle beneath the hung stockings – one for each of you and for each cat.

The heat of the hot cocoa almost burns your tongue – just almost, just like you like it. The hot drink fills your chest, warming you from the inside. Your eyes drift to the lit Christmas tree you had put up just a couple days ago. You can’t help but smile at how each ornament has a special memory attached. You take it in and appreciate it now because it is a miracle the tree lasted even this long with the cats trying to climb it every chance they got.

Even though you wanted to wait, he was so excited to put it up after Thanksgiving that you couldn’t say no. You can rarely say no to him, especially when his eyes are so bright. Holidays weren’t ever your thing, but he always made them so special. Being with him is a dream, so you savor the magic he brings.

You’ll love the holidays, as long as you have him to celebrate with.

You snuggle into him shivering a bit before looking up at him, catching him admiring the fire and the tree too.

“Hey.” You say quietly to catch his attention but not disrupt the peace. He looks down at you, with eyes so fully of contentment. “Happy birthday.”

The edges of his mouth curl into a happy grin. “Thank you, my love.” He kisses your forehead, “You didn’t have to do all of that for me.”

If you were more awake, you’d tease him and ask if he was complaining but you were far too drained for that.

“I know, but I wanted to. Because I love you.” You plant a peck on his shoulder.

“I’ll never understand why you love me as you do.” He states, using the hand not occupied with a mug to find and hold yours. “But god, am I grateful. You truly are the love of my life.”

You can’t hide the wide smile that stretches across your face and the blush that coats your cheeks. “And you are mine, Nicholas.”

tag list; i don't currently have a general tag list for all my fics so if you'd like to be added to that pls lmk!

a/n; thank you for reading if you did! i'm not that good at writing smut or fluff so sorry if it wasn't that great! this is probably the fluffiest thing ive ever written and im embarassed 🫣

Thank you for any support you guys ever give me on any of my works, it truly means the world to me that you guys enjoy my words and lil plots.

let me know if you liked it! i love hearing your thoughts🥰🩷

[consultingskeletondetective]

you're either mentally stable or you've seen the moonlight scene in the promised land

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them

[fire-lizard-ro]

Ah yes. I've come to inquire about a certain blond fellow with the pretty eyes. Aventurine

So here's my bit. Reader is going through a break up with Aventurine and then they make up. I'm writing this while attention (females perspective)is playing in my mind. Maybe you could like incorporate it into the ask. Because I'm thinking in a way that the reader is trying to get Aventurines attention whilst keeping him at a distance. Sor of cat and mouse. And he's buying into it though he's much prefer without the sneakiness.

Also I hope this asks finds you in good spirits and a joyful mood. Caio.

Okay, okay- I have no clue what attention is. A song? I’m not good at this game help-

Anyways I will try my best.

Thank you sm for the ask. 🫶

I really do love this twinky little blond man and I’m happy to be writing about him.

It’s like two in the morning rn and I’m rambling here to distract myself from things. ANY!!! WAYS!!!

No gender is mentioned for the reader.

CW: exactly one (1) 2.1 spoiler (Aventurine’s real name- It’s at the very end), break up-make up time, mild angst bc ofc there is it’s Aventurine, hurt/comfort, happy ending hehe 🫶

Writing under the cut (SFW):

You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a certain someone’s nickname flashing across your screen. Right on time.

Though you supposed he knew what you were doing. After all, Aventurine is smart. Even if he didn’t realize it right away, he had to know by now.

You picked up the phone.

“Well hello, stranger. To what do I owe the honor?” It was hard to keep the sly lilt and inflection out of your voice when you knew he was definitely gripping his phone tightly on the other end of the line.

“I’m sure you know, dear. You’re slick but not that slick. You’ll have to do better than that to outplay me,” Aventurine said, his voice still fixed in that unhurried cadence and unbothered tone like usual despite the situation.

You rested your cheek on a hand and leaned back in your seat with a smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. In any case, it’s a bit odd of you to call me. After all, we did break up. You remember that, I’m sure.”

You could practically hear the leather of his gloves crunching (is it crunching I forgot-) as he clenched a fist, keeping hold of his restraint.

The two of you had been dancing around each other like cat and mouse. Though at this point, who was the cat and who was the mouse was anyone’s guess.

Despite having gotten to the point of breaking up, you ended up missing him a lot. And thus you began the dance only to find his hand already waiting for you. It was unspoken that you both wanted the same thing. But every time he drew closer, you’d pull back. A frustrating back and forth that seemed to confuse him. Aventurine was sure you wanted him back. And yet you never let the cat finally catch his prey. Why? He didn’t get it.

“Oh sweetheart- Let’s not keep pretending, yes? I know you’ve been trying to catch my attention. You can’t hide your intentions.”

“Seems it’s working, then.”

It was true. You had been doing things to keep Aventurine’s eyes on you. Despite playing a game of keep away with him with how you’d draw him in and push him away, you didn’t want him looking at anyone else. At the same time, you weren’t sure if you’d truly be willing to get together again. What if the train went off the tracks again? The first time had been rough enough with the two of you waging a passive aggressive war and pointedly ignoring each other at some points.

And thus, this odd little game of yours. One that Aventurine was growing tired of it he had finally called you.

“Let’s talk in person, shall we?” “What-?”

A knock at the door. No fucking way- You opened the door to see your favorite the blond man himself.

“Hiya, darling dearest~”

“Aventurine.”

“No need to be like that. I was serious about that talk.” He then pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers out from behind his back. “For you,” Aventurine said with that stupid charming smirk of his. You squinted at him for a moment before accepting the flowers with a huff and a faux annoyed, “Fine.”

You were a bit conflicted. You were excited that he was here. Especially because he seemed desperate enough to actually seek you out and talk to you in person. But at the same time this was not something you calculated or expected to happen.

“I know you’re glad to see me. You don’t have to pretend,” he practically purred as you shot a glare over your shoulder, still keeping up appearances. “Oh but of course- I’m absolutely just tickled pink.”

Aventurine chuckled, tipping his head down to look at you over his shades, lids low and eyes practically glowing. “You always did have a way with words, sweetheart.”

He then took off the sunglasses (and oh that was another stupid, dorky little thing about him you found oddly endearing- shades inside a building- stupid silly adorable man-) and plopped down on your couch while you put the flowers down on the counter in the kitchen. You’d deal with them later. For now you had him to deal with. You sat in the chair instead of the couch. He pouted playfully about it, but didn’t comment. “I’ll cut to the chase- I want you back. And I know you want me back, too. I just can’t figure out why you’re leading me closer and then shoving me away. I’m starting to get the feeling you just like my attention. But even so- We both know the truth. So why don’t you just give in, lovely? I know you want to,” he said, surprisingly not using the old song and dance of leading someone around to get the information he wanted. He didn’t talk in circles and didn’t even seem all that flirty despite his words. He was… oddly serious.

“And what about the reason we broke up before?” You didn’t even try to pretend anymore. Aventurine has always been able to see right through you. That ability had clearly not gone anywhere. “I can’t make promises, but we can talk. We’ll work something out. I’ll even compromise on it.” Compromise was not an Aventurine word. Any deals he made were made in his favor without the other person even knowing what they were going to lose. Your incredulity must have been showing on your face more than you thought because he laughed lightly, the sound somehow dry- tired and heavy. “I see that look. I’m serious, baby. I’m sorry I ever let you go. You’re the only one who stayed. The only one who has stuck around. I need you. I’ll give it all to you. My attention, my trust, my… my heart, even. You don’t have to play these games to make me want you.”

Now you feel a bit guilty. But at the same time, elated. Even before you broke up, he never once brought up matters of trust and love. He seemed far too uncomfortable even edging around the topic. But now Aventurine was the first one to bring it up.

You said nothing but silently stood. And his eyes dimmed, waiting for disappointment. But then you walked over and sat next to him, pulling him into a hug. “I missed you, Aven.”

He let out a shaky sigh and wrapped you up in his embrace, arms tight around you.

“Kakavasha.”

“What?”

“You should tell me, ‘I missed you, Kakavasha,’” he (Kakavasha?) said, his voice was shaky with emotion.

“I… I missed you, Kakavasha.”

“And I love you, sweetheart.”

[aimasup]

throws up my hands in mock resignation but also a hint of frustration Okay Valentino is a cool villain I guess

He's like. Genuinely unsettling. Wish the show struck a better balance with his character sometimes (like sometimes when he's onscreen I have to skip over because I feel queasy and sometimes he's so unsubtle he feels more like a prop than a guy who's going to be a Huge Deal in s2)

[heyimboredtalktome]

my god who wrote that season 1 novel like.

[cowboylor]

champagne bottles littered on the floor

it’s new year’s eve and you and matty don’t get along.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mature content/dialogue, alcohol consumption, enemies to lovers, a little angst, reader doesn’t let people in easily and it’s painful to watch

note: thank u anon, i took this idea and ran! also this is unedited and not even finished so i can’t legally be held accountable if it’s terrible.

Tired and self-conscious about the dress you went with for the evening, you sip your champagne in the corner of the room. It bubbles down your throat and makes your face warm, but most of all convinces you that going back to your apartment would be the best idea right now. 

Because there really wouldn’t be that much you’re missing out on. You’d miss the expensive liquor you’re nursing and the people watching but you’d prefer being alone because New Year’s Eve tended to be depressing anyway. By the end of December, you’re always exhausted and on edge. 

So this is Christmas. Well, not anymore at least.

Your name being called across the room breaks you out of your getaway plot. 

You turn and see your friend quickly making her way over to you, gushing along the way with words that you can’t make out until she says, “Come sit with me, yeah?” 

She motions to the other room and you’re ready to decline until she purses her lips. 

“Please, please, please,” She says, “You can’t go home at 10:30. That would be embarrassing for all parties involved.”

Delayed mumbling is all it takes for her to grab your hand, pulling you along after her while you say a silent goodbye to your corner. You debate shaking her off and shouting out a quick apology before making your way to the exit but her stumbling steps give you a reason to follow her. If anything to make sure she makes it to the next room. 

You trudge behind her, speaking over the crowd, “I’m out of my limit here!”

She giggles but you’re not completely sure she heard you: “You’re silly. You’ve always been so silly.”

When you arrive at a bar table, she greets everyone with the exclamation of your name. You scan the group of her friends and realize that you know the majority of them. Smiling politely at their slightly glazed-over expressions, you fiddle with the glass in your hand–until you see Matty.

Your smile drops but he just beams in his classic shit-eating-grin way that makes you want to hurl the pregame snacks you partook in hours ago. His tie is loosened around his neck and his collar unbuttoned slightly, a clear indicator that he’s at least few rounds ahead of you. At the sight of him, you become mildly interested in the tabletop. 

You top off your flute (the last of your liquid courage) and squeak out “Hi” to everyone. When you look up again, he’s still looking at you. Matty raises his glass toward you in a sardonic manner. 

Fucker. 

You can’t explain it. You’re sure you would come across as overdramatic if you verbally expressed how insufferable you found Matty Healy. Because he was never explicitly cruel to you. A dick at times sure but he was Matty. You’ve always figured it’s just how he was and either people adored or resented him for it.

“Found you at the right time,” Your friend drapes her arm over your shoulder, pressing her cheek against yours as you take a seat beside her. “I couldn’t let you slip away easily.”

You answer quick questions about how you’ve been and how your new job is going, all while keeping your eyes away from Matty who keeps shooting you looks of amusement; like he sees right through you and your dislike towards him. 

“Nice dress,” Ross compliments in the midst of your conversation. 

You smile earnestly, looking down to examine the dark blue cocktail dress that you were so apprehensive about earlier: “Thank you.”

“It’s not your usual style,” Matty chirps from the other side of the table. You glower as you make eye contact but he delights at your attention. “Makes you look like a proper lady.”

You blink. “What?” 

He takes the last swig of his auburn-colored drink slowly like he intends to make you wait as long as possible before clarifying. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he makes a show out of wiping his chin clean. 

“I’m complimenting you, love.” He deadpans, 

Your cheeks burn. “Oh.”

He’s still looking at you intently as you brush down the sides of your dress. His staring problem and your nerves don’t partner well, but he nods and then says: “Blue is your color.”

You don’t respond, pretending to be mildly interested in your friend’s story that you missed half the details for. Yet, you nod, smile, and avoid looking at Matty. 

And this works until out of the corner of your eye, he pushes his hair back and you notice the streaks of gray for the first time. His hair has grown longer since you last saw him. Stray curls slip forward through his fingertips and he catches you looking at him. 

He winks.

You hate him. You loathe him. You could eat him alive. 

You cough into your napkin and your friend looks over. She searches your face with a furrowed brow: “Alright, love?”

“Just warm,” You omit and her hand shoots out to feel your temple. You giggle while batting her hand away. “It’s the alcohol.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” Matty asks you and you look up startled. He motions to the mini bar across the room. “Roy Rogers? Apple juice, if you’re feeling a little dangerous?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” You say as coldly as you can. 

You turn back to her and her eyes were now flitting between you and Matty with a curious expression. She side-glances you with an amused look and you shake your head sharply at her silent accusation: Oh?

He relents, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I’m at your call.”

You wipe your hands down on the hem of your dress again and shift in your seat.

Minutes pass by slowly and you’re at your breaking point with how much small talk and strained smiles you can put up with. You brave another look at Matty to see him chatting with his friend, his glass raised as he converses about an unknown topic. You almost have to fight a smile the way his brow furrows when he goes on a tangent for a long period of time. 

You press a chaste kiss to your friend’s cheek, before whispering: “I’m off.”

She turns away from her boyfriend to protest your early departure, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back into your seat. 

“Not until midnight!”

“I’ll talk to you soon,” You say apologetically, though thankful she’s in the company of others while she rambles on to you in her past-tipsy state. “You’ll have to tell me all about it later.”

You shift out of your seat, murmuring a shy goodbye to anyone noticing your premature exit. Matty stops his conversation at once when he notices you getting up from your seat. 

“Where are you going?” He prods as you turn to go. His eyes crinkle as he shoots you a toothy grin. “Going to prowl for that New Year’s kiss?”

You turn on your heel, muttering, “Don’t be an ass.” 

He whistles lowly as some your party lower their eyes uncomfortably. You turn to leave before he gets the chance to quip back. 

The outside air is brisk, just as you expected, but you marvel at it when it hits your face. The patio is deserted and you lean against the railing as you sigh. Thankful for cold weather that cools your face, solitude, and a Matty-less environment that doesn’t make you collapse into a nervous wreck.

“Funny seeing you here.”

Your eyes shoot open at Matty entering the patio deck with two fresh glasses in hand.

Fuck your life.

You eye him defensively, “What do you want?”

“I’m just being courteous.” He shrugs, handing you the beverage.

You take it with only a bit of reluctance. “Don’t pull a muscle.”

“My God,” He laughs, setting his glass on the railing. He looks out towards the skyline, his head shaking slightly. “You just can’t help it.” 

Your eyes wander to his finger that circles the rim of his glass, before snapping out of it and realize what he’s said. 

“Can’t help what?” You ask, frowning slightly. 

You smell the beverage before taking a sip, and you’re greeted by the same almond-flavored bubbly as earlier. Matty looks at you with knowing eyes, raising his brows towards you like you’re supposed to read his mind. Like he thinks you two are always on the same wavelength. 

You raise your eyebrows in confusion: “I just can’t help what?”

He shrugs, “How bad you want to fuck me.” 

You almost spit your champagne out but settle for mildly choking on the liquid, bringing your palm to your mouth as you cough. You shoot him an incredulous look. 

“You’re crazy.”

“No?” He bites, clearly amused. “You’re just mildly agitated all the time?”

“That doesn’t mean I want to–” He stares at you and you can feel yourself beginning to burn again. “–fuck you.”

He hums, considering your words and doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t refute or agree with the sentiment. 

“It’s just,” You say, thinking over the words. “You’re never nice to me.”

Matty frowns and he looks puzzled for the first time, “I’m not... nice?”

You cringe at the way it sounds from him, but you’re in too deep now to back down from it: “You never are just nice. There’s always an ulterior motive with you.”

“Ulterior motive,” He repeats, drawing out the syllables like he’s trying to piece everything together. 

You’re not sure if he’s being incredibly patient or just taking the piss out of you.  

“To tease me,” You explain, “You’re never serious about anything when talking to me. I never know how to interact with you.”

Matty falls silent and you know you sound paranoid to him. So you swirl your champagne flute in small motions, opting to watch the bubbles fizz rather than look him in the eyes. 

He steps closer to you and you think you’ve stopped breathing.

“I can be serious with you.”

You shake your head and attempt to laugh but it comes out shaky.

His right hand comes up to toy with your chin, pinching the tip of it so your head tilts up and you have to look at him.

He grins when you meet his eyes, “‘Can be so serious.”

With his other hand, he plays with the end of your dress and you surprise yourself when you reach out to grip his forearm. His eyes wander down to watch himself trace the hem of the material.

“I was serious–” Matty glances up to gauge your reaction to the word choice but you’re too preoccupied with how the distance between you both grows smaller to give him the look he’s looking for. “–when I said you look like a proper lady in this dress. You look beautiful.”

His eyes bore into yours and you don’t want to look away in case he cracks a smile and tells you he’s full of shit. But he doesn’t and you’re leaning in to brush a lone curl out of his brow line, pushing it back against his forehead. 

Matty watches you and you let him. 

He feels up your lower waist and you fight the urge roll your eyes back at the simple touch. You wrap yourself around him, shifting against him in a subtle motion as he buries himself in your neck. His mouth presses underneath your jaw and your fingernails dig into his arm, pulling him into you even more. You hear his breath audibly hitch when you push your hips into his. His fingers dig into the fabric of your dress making it bunch up at the waist.

He presses his lips to the shell of your ear: “Can’t touch you like that right now, love.”

Your eyes fly open and he holds your hips in place against him as you stare at him incredulously. 

“Why?”

He smirks at your reaction, “Why? You expect me to bend you over the railing in front of everyone?”

You blink slowly, looking around to see the vacant patio you’re occupying. 

Is this ‘everyone’ in the room with us right now? You want to say but think that may come across as too much.

You concede with a huff and disconnect your limbs from him. He chuckles at your disappointed expression, trailing his fingertip up to your cheek as if to say to be continued.

[ohbo-ohno]

this is bad. this is REALLLLL bad. i was just a normal gal til I read your ghoap puppy play. i. just. what the fuck. now, first of all, i’m even MORE kinky than before, and you’ve infected my writing too

like soap gets all pouty when ghost first starts training because what the hell, he didn’t sign up for this :((( and like when ghost makes him sleep in the crate because he’s been bad, edges him for weeks because mutts don’t get rewards, he can’t help but hump the bars and whine all night ‘til ghost groans, wakes up, and then degrades him until he falls silent again :(((

and ghost doesn’t even give a shit. cuz it doesn’t matter if Johnny is our talking with literally anyone on base, ghost can literally just say a few little words and poor soap just slips right back into the puppy headspace :(( and then he gets all whiney when they’re alone and can’t help it when he starts to bark, nuzzling closer like the good boy he is :(((

omg ew what have I become

i love hearing that my stuff is what got people into puppyplay but it never fails to fucking BLOW my mind. ME??? are you sure????

anyways the last paragraph of this ask made me loooooooose my fucking mind. i don't think you meant it this way but i would KILL to be able to write hypno properly, there's sooo much fun there. hypnotizing someone to be your puppy.... they don't know why they feel like dropping to their knees every time you whistle :(((

equally as fun, of course, is just regular ol' training. ghost getting soap conditioned to certain signals and sounds, doing it so casually that soap doesn't even notice. goes so far that soap stops responding to commands from other people - the first time soap looks to ghost instead of price in the field (ignoring price, waiting for ghost), simon nearly fucking melts. praises his boy for hours when they get home

"ghost makes him sleep in the crate because he’s been bad, edges him for weeks because mutts don’t get rewards, he can’t help but hump the bars and whine all night ‘til ghost groans, wakes up, and then degrades him until he falls silent again" has been something i've been meaning to actually write a full scene out for for MONTHS now but i never have. it's just. godddddddd i fucking. ugh i can't. SO goddamn hot, it's egregious. i can't

ghost playing with soap (even in public) with miscellaneous items... love. ceilidh has this tweet that i haven't stopped thinking about since she posted it. just...

ghost making soap grab him things by saying "fetch that for me" and eventually shortening it to just "fetch" :( holding things a little too long when he offers them to johnny, making him play a quick game of tug of war :( grabbing johnny by the jaw and shaking his head real rough when he's not listening :( taking him on walks when he gets all wound up so he doesn't make a mess of himself or ghost's room :( goddamn i could write a whole drabble for every single one of these ideas if i was in the right fucking mood. hate it here

[wheels-of-despair]

Draw Me Like One of Your Dwarf Girls, Eddie Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie decides to work on his drawing skills, and accidentally awakens a monster in the process. Contains: Titanic references, female nudity, a brush with death. Word Count: 1.3k-ish

"Draw me like one of your dwarf girls, Eddie," you say in a sultry voice, trying your hardest not to laugh.

"What did I tell you about talking?" He pauses to give you a pointed look, since he's already told you to pipe down several times. You roll your eyes, and he returns to his drawing with a renewed vigor.

It's early 1998, and you've recently dragged your poor Eddie to a theater to see that damn Titanic movie everybody and their mother keeps raging about. All 3 hours of it. You may have neglected to mention the runtime when you bought the tickets. You owe him.

He survived, but was suddenly faced with the desire to "work on his people-sketching skills." Which of course meant it took him less than a week to convince you to strip and pose like Rose on the couch, wearing only that red guitar pick necklace he's had since high school.

You're stretched out and exposed and already bored. Two hours ago, he'd adjusted your hand a quarter of an inch this way, your knee a quarter of an inch that way, and you'd been instructed not to move.

Well, it felt like two hours, but it was really only about 30 minutes.

With nothing else to do, and being mildly disappointed that he didn't find your commentary amusing, you watch his eyes follow the pencil scratching across the paper you can't see. He's cute when he's concentrating. Tongue poking out, brow furrowed, that spark of creativity in his eye. It must be going well, because he smiles occasionally. He even giggled once. If you had to guess, you'd say it probably had something to do with a nipple. It was a little chilly.

"Just as I thought; it's a masterpiece."

"Are you done?" You'd only been in this position for an eternity.

"Oh yeah, this baby's getting framed." Ignoring you, he holds his sketch pad out to view it at an arm's length, beaming at his creation.

"Can I move now?!"

"Yeah, you can move."

You stretch your stiff limbs and get up off the couch, reaching for the flannel he'd discarded on a chair nearby, buttoning a few buttons as you pad over to where he sat admiring his work.

You place a hand on his back and look over his shoulder at the figure on his sketchbook. You're confused, but you can't take your eyes off of it. You can't think of anything to say. Until…

"What. The FUCK. Is THAT."

He looks up innocently and says, "What? I was just following instructions. You kept talking, figured I better listen."

You have no words.

You do, however, have a fucking BEARD in Eddie's drawing.

He sits there, looking up at you with a proud grin on his face, waiting for you to react.

You stare at him wordlessly, still in a state of shock.

Until he laughs at you. LAUGHS AT YOU.

Your brain begins to swirl furiously, until it flashes one word: KILL.

You clench your fists, and he begins to sense that you're not going to start laughing with him. His eyes widen, and he jumps out of his chair, vaults over the coffee table, and stands on the couch.

"I can explain," he says quickly, trying to sound calm, steps unsteady on the cushions.

You can explain too. Explain to the responding officers how one Edward James Munson met his gruesome demise.

"It's Tolkien."

You ignore him and advance slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Eyes unblinking. Blood boiling. Steam probably coming out of your ears. He jumps off the couch as you approach the coffee table.

"It's from a book!" He's walking backward, holding out his sketch pad like a lion tamer with a chair.

His eyes bulge as he hits something solid. You've backed him into a corner. Literally.

"Tolkien! Middle-earth! The Hobbit! Nerd shit!"

Nerd shit won't save you now, Munson. You narrow your eyes and prepare to go in for the kill. He panics.

"Dwarf women have beards! It was a joke! I'm sorry! I love you!"

The "I love you" makes you pause, just as you were about to pounce and slash your prey to pieces. The hell?

"What?" you ask, giving your head a slight shake in confusion.

"Dwarf women have beards. In the books. You said to draw you like a dwarf. It was a joke. I thought you'd know what it was."

"You thought I'd know some random detail from a book I haven't read in over a decade?"

"I mean, it's a pretty memorable detail…"

You roll your eyes, heave a sigh, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Why is this not surprising?

"So you're not gonna kill me?" He's still backed into his corner. You consider it for a moment, deciding that you've played with him enough for today.

"Not tonight, Munson."

He exhales and leans his head back against the wall.

"But I WILL get you for this," you threaten, pointing a finger at him. He nods, used to this constant back-and-forth game you'd both been playing for over a decade. He knew you'd never really hurt him, just like you knew he wouldn't hurt you either. It was just a game.

You turn to walk away, and hear him whisper to the abomination he's still clutching: "Don't worry baby, you're still gettin' framed."

You whip around, eyes flashing. He gulps. You step closer, making him lean further back into the wall. He's cute when he's scared.

"Give it."

He stares at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his.

"Give it," you repeat, holding out a hand and waiting for him to place his sketchbook into it.

Reluctantly, he hands it to you. You maintain eye contact as your fingers find the thick cover page, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking at his ungodly creation again. You slam it shut and he flinches.

"What are you gonna do with it?"

Beat your nerdy ass to death with it.

Still clutching his sketch pad, you step back silently and gesture for him to walk on by with your free hand. He slowly peels himself off the wall and begins to move with an apprehensive look in your direction, and a thought occurs to you.

As he scurries past you, you smack him on the ass with his sketchbook. He whirls around with a yelp, hands clutching his cheeks. It's cardboard, you drama queen. You step closer and swing the book at his arm.

"You made me lay there for AN HOUR! While! You! Drew! That!" You punctuate each word with another smack of the sketch pad. He continues overreacting to each hit and falls to the floor with a wail when you finish yelling, clutching his imaginary wounds. You lift the book above your head with both hands, ready to finish him.

"It started out real! But I couldn't make it look like you! It wasn't pretty enough!" You graciously decide to let him continue, still holding the sketchbook in an attack position, just in case. "I tried," he explains calmly now, "but it wasn't working out, and then you said the dwarf thing, and I thought it would be funny. I'll make it up to you."

"Damn right, you will." You lower the book and release it. It lands on his chest with a light thud. He grins from his position on the floor. You step over him and make your way toward the bedroom.

"Starting now," you inform him from the hallway, not slowing or turning around. You hear him scramble to get up, knock something over, and curse before he hurries in your direction.

He's lucky he's cute.