#thank you so much for this AWESOME prompt anon

[allylikethecat]

Hi ♥️ anon here!

I loved the kiss prompt so so much! Thank you for writing every single one of them!

Hi ♥️ anon!

I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed the prompt fill! 🥰 I hope it was worth the wait and I apologize again for taking so long to get to it! The Kiss Prompts have been such a fun little project and I really enjoyed working on them! Thank you again for sending it in! I hope you have a great rest of your day!

❤️Ally

[dirtyvulture]

Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 2140

Requested by anon: Oh awesome! I'd like to request an abo fic then!

Can I ask for Alpha Natasha x Omega Reader

So, Natasha has always fancied Reader but due to how close Reader is with Steve(hes just a friend. His Alpha insticts just make him very protective for those he cares about) and Natashas inexperience in courting a mate due to that not being a Red Room lesson, she never makes a move.

That all changes at one of Tonys parties though. Steves away on a mission, so when a group of slimy Alphas corner Reader Nat swoops in to save her. They go back to the Alphas room where feelings get admitted and Natasha is able to claim her Omega

I'm sorry if thats too much, got a bit carried away. Hope you like this idea and thanks in advance. Love your work.

AN: Happy ABO April! 

Natasha has to look away when Steve puts his arm around your shoulder in a side-hug and you lean into him and laugh at his joke. She can’t even name the things she would give up to take Steve’s place next to you, to have her arm around you and have you laughing at her joke instead. Even though Steve is a close friend of hers, she has always harbored a near-uncontrollable level of jealousy of him because of how close he was to you.

She knows you hardly look at her when she enters a room and the few moments the two of you have had alone, you’re always painfully professional and cordial with her. But at the end of the day, Natasha doesn’t blame you for it. Steve was a better alpha than her, anyway. She didn’t know the first thing about being someone’s alpha, let alone yours, and didn’t think she would be able to satisfy you with her inexperience and hesitancy.

Tony hosts a party that weekend, but Steve is called out last-minute on a mission. You come in alone, looking a little lost without your partner/alpha by your side. Natasha feels like this is her chance to make a move with you, but ultimately, her insecurities win out and she stays by the bar, miserably slamming vodka shots and wondering if she’ll ever be good enough for anyone.

You hadn’t expected to attend Tony’s party solo. Steve was your best friend, surprising you with how well you got along with someone who was old enough to be your grandpa, but he had been nothing but kind and respectful to you. You trusted him with your life and kept no secrets from him, but you didn’t see him as a romantic partner.

There was someone else you wanted, but they always seemed so shy around you, you were beginning to lose hope that anything could ever happen with them.

You find an empty corner in the table and sip a glass of wine, not interested in casual socialization with anyone tonight. You weren’t even sure why you still came when Steve texted you that he was being called to work, but you felt it would be rude to not show up with a legitimate excuse.

“Hey, Y/N.” 

You look up as a man slides into the seat across from you. His hair is greasy with gel and his eyes tell you that he’s already a few drinks into the night. There are two friends that stand next to your table, effectively preventing you from just getting up and excusing yourself. You feel your heartbeat pound faster in your chest.

“Where’s your alpha?” the greasy-haired man asks.

“My what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with us now.” The man laughs, prompting his friends to do the same. You can’t remember ever seeing any of them before, but Tony invites anyone that knows his name, so you can’t narrow down where they might’ve come from at all.

“So you thought you’d come to Stark’s party in hopes that another alpha would come by and claim you?” the man snickers. 

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you assert, standing up as the man’s two friends step towards you menacingly.

“Not yet,” the man says. “But you know what would be better than being claimed by one alpha? How about three?” He smiles predatorily. 

“Get away from me right now,” you say, your fingers closing tightly around the stem of your wine glass in case you need to smash it over one of their heads.

“Oh, we love a fighter,” the man says. “I hope it’s not just an act--”

“Hey.”

A familiar voice enters the conversation, and you almost melt with relief when you see Natasha Romanoff shove her way between the man’s two friends and offer you her hand. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Come on.”

You don’t question where she’s going to take you, just eager to get away from these three creepy alphas. 

“Whoa, whoa, where are you taking--” the man interrupts.

“Shut it,” Natasha warns. “You’re all done here. Now get out before I have my friends escort you out.”

The man looks like he wants to protest, but when he sees Clint and Bruce eyeing them from the corner of the room, he grabs onto his buddies and pushes them towards the exit.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Natasha asks, taking you to the bar and ordering you a glass of water.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks for that. You didn’t have to,” you say, sipping your water with trembling hands.

“I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch them talk to you like that,” Natasha says, and you’re pretty sure this is the longest conversation you’ve ever had with her. The nerves of talking to your crush and what had just happened start to get to you and you feel yourself begin to sweat under your clothes.

Natasha looks at you with concern. “Y/N, are you--”

“Can we go back upstairs? If you’re okay leaving the party early, that is,” you ask.

She doesn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

You don’t miss the way Natasha keeps her hand on your back as she follows you to the elevators and you both go up to the penthouse where the suites are located. But instead of going to your room, your feet take you to Natasha’s, and she doesn’t protest as you sit down on her bed and make yourself comfortable. Her scent, reminding you of the woods with a hint of vanilla, fills the entire room and you instinctively relax, like sinking into a hot tub. 

Natasha sits next to you, her scent surrounding her like a cloud, and you can barely focus when she hands you a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “Not just for the water, but also what you did at the party.”

Natasha shrugs. “Steve wouldn’t have been happy if something happened to his omega.”

Her words catch you off guard. “Steve’s omega?” you repeat.

Natasha looks at you. “Wait, are you not--”

“Steve and I are just friends,” you clarify, your heart deflating at the thought that Natasha mistook your close friendship for an actual relationship. 

“You two seem very close.”

“We are, but not like that,” you say.

“Oh.” Now Natasha feels dumb. 

“I had my eye on another alpha for a while,” you admit, surprising yourself with your boldness. “But I’m not sure if they’d ever make a move on me.”

It takes Natasha a moment, but when she makes the realization, she gasps audibly and stares at you with wide eyes.

“M-Me?” she stammers, unable to believe that you actually want her.

You nod, biting your lip as you look at her. The overwhelming scent of her room is embarrassingly enough to get you going and you feel the wetness pooling between your legs uncomfortably. 

“Do you want me?” you ask, leaning forward until your heads are inches apart. You feel her hot breath on your lips and the urge to dive forward and kiss her. 

“Since the moment I saw you,” Natasha whispers, surprising herself by taking initiative and closing the distance between you two. Her lips are soft and her lip gloss tastes like coconut. Natasha presses towards you eagerly, her hands closing around your shoulders and gently pressing you to lie down on her bed. “Is this okay?” she asks, now hovering over you.

You swear you’re already gushing at the sight of Natasha on top of you like this. “It’s more than okay,” you assure, tangling your hands in her silky red hair and pulling her in for another kiss. 

Natasha practically devours you and you feel yourself ache with an emptiness you know only she can fill. You open your legs to invite Natasha to lie between them and when you feel the heat of her clothed bulge against your center, you can’t even think anymore.

All you want is Natasha buried deep inside of you, filling with her cum, and claiming you as her omega. 

You break away from the heavy kisses long enough to remove your clothing and Natasha watches you for a moment before scrambling to remove her own. You moan when you touch your panties and realize how soaked through they are and you know Natasha can smell it by the way her eyes widen. 

“Look what you’ve done to me, baby,” you say. “I’m soaking for you.”

“So desperate for me, huh?” Natasha stumbles a little over the dirty talk, but you find it endearing. She pulls down her boxers, her hard cock springing out at an impressive length, the tip red and leaking pre-cum. “Lie back, baby,” she says. “I’ll take care of you.”

Natasha takes her place back on top of you, teasing you by running her cock through your slicked folds. She’s never claimed an omega before and is worried about releasing too early and not being able to satisfy you.

“Fuck, baby, just put it in already,” you beg, the emptiness between your legs almost painful now.

Natasha knows that she won’t be able to deny you much longer. Her cock is throbbing so hard she can’t think of anything else, and after taking your hips in her hands, she lines herself up with your entrance and pushes into you.

Both of you moan at the same time. Natasha is the biggest you’ve ever taken, and while the stretch burns at first, you feel so satisfyingly full you never want her to pull out. You feel complete with her inside of you and when she starts to rock her hips slowly, you claw down her back and hold onto her butt, guiding her to thrust harder.

“Yes, Nat, just like that,” you pant, a moan ripping out of your throat every time her cock rubs through your clenching walls. 

“You feel amazing,” Natasha says, her voice tight as she tries not to explode just yet. The way your pussy grips onto her is unlike anything she’s ever experienced and it’s like your body was made just to fit her. “Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N.”

“You do, too. Don’t stop,” you say, listening to the headboard of the bed slam against the wall with every thrust.

Natasha lowers her head to kiss you passionately, looping her arms under yours to pull you into her so she can penetrate you even deeper. Your pussy spasms around her and she moans against your lips, pistoning her hips harder.

“Mine. You’re all mine,” she growls.

“All yours when you knot me,” you remind her, feeling the swelling at the base of her cock when she pushes her entire length into you. As full as you already feel, you can’t wait for her to knot you and pump her seed into you until your stomach swells. 

“Are you sure?” Natasha pants, slowing her thrusts to control her release. "Are you sure you want this, Y/N?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted,” you admit.

It’s the only thing Natasha’s ever wanted, too. To claim you and to be able to call you her omega. 

“Okay.” She knows she won’t last much longer and the base of her cock begins to swell. Her thrust become sloppier and you widen your legs so she has room to bury herself all the way. “Oh fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum...”

“Make me yours, Nat,” you beg, digging your nails into her shoulders until you’re sure you’ll draw blood.

With one final thrust that shakes your entire body, Natasha pushes her knot past your entrance and releases her load inside of you. The warmth that fills you is indescribable, and you throw your head back with a moan as Natasha’s cock continues to pulse, shooting ropes of cum deep into your womb. The pressure and fullness is too much and you find your own release at the same time, craning your neck up to clamp your teeth around Natasha’s collarbone and claiming her as she knots you.

Natasha howls at the sting and the delight at you marking her. When she finally stops cumming, she relaxes her weight on top of you and nuzzles your cheek gently. You purr in response, happy to be full of cum and claimed by your alpha. 

The two of you lie like that for a long time, until Natasha’s knot deflates and she can pull out, spilling most of her seed onto the bedsheets. You cling to her, feeling the most satisfied and happy you had ever been in your life.

“Thank you, my alpha,” you whisper, kissing the bite mark on her chest.

“I love you, my omega.”

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey, I really appreciate your answering sex ed questions and was hoping you might be able to help me out. Sorry for the long tmi I'm about to give but I don't know how to ask this except by listing out everything relevant I can think of.

I'm afab (cis-ish in the sense I don't particularly see myself as a woman but don't bother trying to get other people not to, but that isn't really important here) in my mid 20s and a virgin, and I don't know much about sex drive but what I do makes me feel like maybe there's something off about mine? I used to consider myself bi ace until I realised I did feel some degree of physical attraction to women that I don't to men so now I call myself a lesbian but the attraction I feel is still very... vague? Like, I'll see a pretty woman and get some kind of rush of feeling, but it's not really a particularly physical feeling of arousal (though I am autistic so it could be I just don't recognise it as physical because of interoception difficulties), more like... sorry if this is an inappropriate metaphor but. More like the urge to pet a really cute cat. I've made out with women and it felt vaguely nice (certainly nicer than with men which I've also done but it was awkward and vaguely uncomfortable) but no more than that. I don't get anything from my physical partners biting down on my neck or nipples or other common erogenous zones though I feel like they expect me to, and kissing is kind of nice but kissing with tongue feels awful. I'm not sure if I'd ever actually want to have full on sex, the thought of letting someone near my sex organs sounds unpleasant. I sometimes masturbate by rubbing my clit and there's a moment that feels like a climax where it gets really hard and sensitive and I used to think that was an orgasm but reading your recent description of an orgasm I'm actually pretty sure I've never had one. I've never had the urge to stick anything in my vagina, only tried it because I heard if it causes pain it might be a cause for medical concern (it didn't cause pain - it felt kinda nice, not anything special though and certainly not something I'd do without prompting). When I masturbate there's only one specific non sexual scenario that gets me off (though maybe about once a year at most I can successfully get off to sexual scenarios with fictional characters but never with real people and it isn't as effective). I used to masturbate more than I do now (I know it dropping off suddenly can be a cause for medical concern but it wasn't sudden, just spikes of activity getting gradually shorter and rarer - I can think of months when I'd do it every night to fall asleep but those are very much outliers scattered across the years rather than my baseline, which is occasionally doing it absentmindedly while falling asleep but very rarely intensely and on purpose). I probably should have sought out more sex ed at some point but sex just never felt very important to me.

Anyway I guess my question is. Is all this normal? Am I actually ace after all? Do I just have a low sex drive? Is any of this cause for medical concern? Do you have any idea how I might be able to actually get an orgasm, if what I thought was that actually wasn't?

hi anon,

all of this is incredibly normal. what I'm hearing is that you kind of like kissing women and aren't particularly interested in sex? that's awesome. kissing women is great, strongly recommend, and if that's all you're interested in then that's just dandy. no need to pretend to enjoy anything just because a partner expect you to; a polite "no thanks" will suffice, followed by kicking your partner to the curb if they don't listen to the no.

whether or not you call yourself asexual is up to you, that's none of my business and I can't pick for you. there actually isn't a secret barcode hidden somewhere on your body that will reveal your Real True Sexuality, you can just pick whatever words you want that kind of get the gist at any given time. would calling yourself asexual feel nice or helpful to you in anyway? if so, awesome! does it not appeal to you at all? okie dokie! don't do that then.

literally nothing you have described sounds like something that would be cause for medical concern, unless I missed something that's regularly causing you any physical pain or discomfort.

I think focusing on orgasms isn't that important, actually, and you can actually just touch yourself in whatever way you want for as long as it feels good, and then stop when it doesn't!

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello :) if your requests are still open:

This is my first time requesting something so please ignore this if I‘m doing something wrong.

I saw the 150 Random Writing Prompts and was thinking of a jealous Hunter smut. (Or Echo, if you find it more fitting)

With

143.: “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

And if it’s ok ( I could not decide, sorry)

97.: if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god”

93.: say you want me, and i’m yours.”

Thanks 🙏🏻 You are an awesome writer!✨

Thank you so much for the request, anon! You did nothing wrong at all! I was able to work in all three, but I’m incapable of writing anything short, so this is kinda long - oops. Hope you like it! <3

Bonus point if you spot the Taylor Swift lyric I managed to weave in!

Green Doesn’t Suit You

With the whole squad safely back on Pabu, you settle into a comfortable civilian life. But the yearly Celestialis festival, said to bring good fortune for the next year to those who attend, brings with it something you never thought you’d have.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.5k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: jealousy, friends to lovers, pet names, old lady shoving her oar in, Omega is a fantastic wing-woman, confessions of love, first kiss together, squint for possessiveness, being (lovingly) manhandled, first time together, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, soft aftercare, all the fluffy feels.

The air was stifling, not only from the heat outside but the warmth emanating from both ovens in the kitchen of your new home on Pabu.

The house had been a gift – the fanciest gift you’d ever received – from Shep and the other island residents. A thank you for all the hard work you, the boys, and Omega had put into rebuilding their island after the freak tsunami.

All seven of you, living together in a space infinitely bigger than the Marauder or your old barracks. It was heaven.

“We still need to get those tanks moved.” Omega grumbled, grabbing a clean tray and loading it with the latest batch of cooled cookies you’d made. In the sitting room, just visible through the kitchen doorway, were two bacta tanks. Where Phee had managed to procure them from was still a mystery, but they’d saved Crosshair and Tech’s lives after you, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker had stormed Mount Tantiss to rescue Omega and the twins. The brothers had been worse for wear – it was still a miracle Tech had survived his fall.

“I’ll speak to Phee in the morning.” You added it to your mental list, skirting around an open cabinet door.

Today was the Celestialis festival, where Pabu’s residents came together to wish for good fortune for the year ahead. Once Shep and the island’s organising committee had caught wind of how good your baking skills were, they’d pulled you into the fray. For weeks, you’d been planning and purchasing ingredients and trying different recipes. And for the last few days, you’d been baking all hours of day and night – with varying levels of assistance from Omega and her brothers.

Four years ago, when the war had broken out, you’d signed up as a civilian handler. Fresh out of college and with nothing lined up, it had seemed like a good idea. While other handlers stayed on Kamino and supported their squads from a distance, the moment you’d read the files for Clone Force 99, you’d known that you’d need to be at their side constantly. They had a habit of veering off track, and handling that from afar would only give you a permanent migraine. So, after signing a hefty waiver with the Kaminoans, you’d been handed some armour, a blaster, and directions to the hangar.

Three years, you’d fought alongside them, learning the best ways to manage them and their unique skill set, building bonds and friendships far deeper and more meaningful than anything you’d ever had before. This last year, since Order 66, had brought its own challenges, too, but it has also brought you Omega.

Grabbing another tray from a cupboard, you pass it over to the young girl, watching as she loads it up with more cookies. Sweat beads on the nape of your neck, and you sigh, lifting your hair to try and get some air to it.

Omega, forever perceptive, abandons the cookies to help tie your hair back. From a small pot on the counter, she goes to grab a hairband, but at the last minute, you redirect her to the strip of fabric that sits nearby, the two of you sharing a look.

It’s another hour before you’re ready to leave for the festival. The boys had headed out mid-afternoon to help set up, taking their dressier clothes with them to spare themselves the walk back to the house and to not get in your way as you finished up. As infuriating and stubborn as they could all be at times, their thoughtfulness was unparalleled.

Dragging wagons laden with treats up to the central plaza, you and Omega work quickly to lay out all the goodies on the tables Shep had set aside for you. You hoped there would be enough for everyone, especially as other food was on offer, too. Stepping back from the tables, you take a deep breath.

“Finally left the kitchen, eh?” Echo teases as he approaches, the rest of the boys in tow. He’d tried to help as best as he could over the last few days, but baking with one hand had been less than ideal. Ultimately, he’d sat at the kitchen table and kept you going with conversation and caff breaks. And he’d chased Hunter off a few times when that keen nose of his had brought him sniffing around for treats to ‘sample.’

You watch as Omega passes a star-shaped cookie over to Wrecker, and the delight on the big man’s face as he devours it fills you with pride. “If I step foot in that kitchen again at any point in the next two weeks, please shoot me.” You joke, the corners of your lips curling into a smile.

“Deal.” Crosshair teases, toothpick sliding to the other side of his mouth as he reaches for a Roonan lemon cookie. His appetite hadn’t returned much since his rescue from Mount Tantiss and time in the bacta tank, but he was trying to eat a little more each day so you wouldn’t worry about him.  

“Hey!” You protest playfully, the boys chuckling as Crosshair takes a small bite, throwing you a wink. Light conversation flows between you all, broken up by the occasional island resident swinging by for some treats. The music starts, and more residents arrive, joining the festival’s spirit, dancing together and laughing.

Hunter can’t keep his eyes off you. For the last four years, he’s seen you in blacks and armour, with the recent addition of sweatpants around the house, and yet now you’re in a dress. A light and airy thing with delicate straps that cross over your shoulders, the fabric cinched in at your waist to accentuate the soft curves of your body. He’s sure it’s the same shade of aqua that paints his pauldrons, too. The thought has a strange sensation sweeping through his gut.

The sound of someone calling your name snatches his attention and drags his thoughts back to the present. As you turn towards the person calling for you, he can’t help but steal the opportunity to admire you. Eyes raking up your bare legs, across your hips and ass that he’s imagined grasping many times, over the smooth plane of your back to the curve of your neck and then…

The entire galaxy might as well cease to exist as his mind goes blank.

Wide brown eyes lock onto the scrap of red fabric keeping your hair up, and that strange sensation in his gut slams into him again. There, holding your hair up, is one of his spare bandanas.

His heart races, thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. A torrent of emotions surges within him. He wants to reach out to you, to pull you close and finally tell you how much you mean to him, but he holds himself back. He can't bear the thought of you not returning the sentiment. Maybe it had just been an accident. Maybe his bandana had been the closest thing available.

In the silence of his thoughts, he missed you excusing yourself to talk with one of the island’s elderly residents, who’d been calling you over.

“Smooth.” Crosshair deadpans, gaze flicking to Hunter as they watch you go, the rest of their siblings distracted by the food and music.

The slink of his brother’s voice pulls Hunter from his thoughts, and he frowns in Crosshair’s direction. “What?” He asks. They’d worked hard to reconcile ever since Crosshair had been deemed stable enough to leave the bacta tank – they’d broached difficult topics and mended a few bridges as they worked towards getting back to what they’d had before the Order had been given. It was slow and, at times, painful, but neither of them was willing to give up on each other again.

“You were staring at her like she’s pure aurodium. Not that I blame you…” Hawkish eyes slide towards Hunter, a smirk tugging at Crosshair’s lips as he watches his brother’s jaw clench and his head tilt, a hardness settling across his features.

Crosshair lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the slight rise he’d secured. “Green doesn’t suit you, vod.” He tosses the comment before snatching up a few more of your baked treats, striding away in search of a quiet place to perch. Crowds still bothered him, but he didn’t want to avoid the gathering altogether and feel like even more of an outcast.

Across the plaza, you’d reached Mrs. Magiere. The elderly lady had lived on the island for years and had slowly convinced her family to move across the galaxy and join her. She wandered the island around lunchtime, and you’d often crossed paths, sharing polite conversation.

Beside her stood an unfamiliar man. “There you are, dear. I want to introduce you to my grandson, Dax.” Mrs. Magiere reached for your hand, drawing you closer.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Dax.” You offered the man a smile. He was a little taller than you, with a slender build, perfectly coifed brown hair and piercing green eyes.

Dax tries to keep his gaze on your face, but his eyes betray him for a moment as he takes all of you in. You’re quite lovely, he must admit. “And you. My grandmother speaks very fondly of you.” He replies.

Mrs. Magiere looks between you both with glee. “Why don’t you two go and dance? My old bones can’t keep up anymore.” One of her hands finds your lower back, and she gives you a gentle nudge towards Dax.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks caught off guard and a little uncomfortable, but Dax offers you a reassuring smile and his hand. Not wanting to cause a scene or upset anyone, you take it, letting him lead you towards the plaza’s centre where couples and families are dancing. He stops en route, snagging a delicate pink flower from one of the blossoming vines nearby. With careful hands, he slides it into your hair, leaning back to admire you.

“And here I thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.” The compliment comes naturally to Dax as he retakes your hand, leading you to a small available spot amongst the dancing island residents.  

The warmth in your cheeks grows, and all you can offer Dax is a small smile as he twirls you into his arms once you are amongst the crowd. Laughing softly, you let him lead, the few dance classes you’d taken at college helping you keep up with him.

“You did a wonderful job with the baked goods.” Dax lays another compliment on you, enjoying your bashful smile.

It felt good to be appreciated for all your hard work preparing for this evening, especially by those outside of your little family. “Thank you. What did you like the most?”

Turmoil rolls through Dax. Truth told, he hadn’t sampled any of the treats you’d so lovingly prepared, but he knew it was essential to compliment you. “The oat ones were delicious.” He takes a stab in the dark.

Your smile falters briefly before you fix it back into place. “I’m glad.” You lie in return, not pointing out that you hadn’t made oat cookies.

Standing off at the side of the plaza, it took no time for Hunter to find you amongst the crowd. Over the years, he’d memorised the sound of your heartbeat and the delicate whisper of your voice as the light breeze carried it to him. His eyes found you, and his brows furrowed as he watched you gracefully twirl in the arms of another man, a torrent of emotions churning within him. Jealousy, like a venomous snake, coiled around his heart, injecting poison into his every thought.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The woman he loved, whose smile could light up his darkest days, was now smiling at someone else. Insecurity gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling he thought he’d long buried during his cadet days.

He longed to be the one guiding you across the dance floor, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the galaxy. The realisation that someone else was experiencing that privilege grated on him.

“I don’t like him.” Omega’s voice snapped Hunter from his spiralling thoughts, and he glanced down to see her standing at his side, her own eyes watching you and the unfamiliar man dance.

“Hm, neither do I.” Hunter comments, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you twirl again.

It was no secret to Omega how much you and Hunter loved one another, and she was getting tired of neither of you doing anything about it. “Then, why don’t you go dance with her?” She asked, injecting as much innocence into her voice as she could muster, wide eyes turning up to look at her brother.

Hunter sighed. Omega had a point – he could quickly end this torture.

“Mind if I cut in?” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice interrupted your dance, and you turned towards him, offering him a bright smile.

The smile Dax had been wearing dissipated, a faint clench to his jaw as he shook his head while the music changed to something softer. “Not at all.” He lied, taking his hands from you. His grandmother had told him about the man who’d interrupted, with half of his face shrouded in darkness, and had warned him that you were close. Not willing to go easily, Dax lifted one of your hands to his lips, holding your gaze as he pressed a kiss to the back of it before stepping away a small distance. He’d wait nearby for another turn.

Your bright smile turned a little uneasy as Dax pressed a kiss to your hand, but relief had your shoulders sagging as Hunter stepped forward, sliding one arm around your waist to pull you close, your hand resting on his shoulder. He took your other hand with his free one, fingers interlacing. “Thank you for the save.” You murmured gratefully, knowing that with his hearing, you didn’t need to raise your voice to be heard above the music.

“Always.” Hunter’s answer leaves no room for doubt as he gently leads, moving you both in a slow sway. He can’t help but revel in your closeness. Every touch, every brush of your hand against his, feels electrifying, making his heart race with desire. Your warm body is pressed to his, his senses overwhelmed with you.

Warmth and security flood your body with the press of Hunter’s hand on your lower back, igniting a desire to be even closer. The rest of the galaxy can’t reach you here, tucked safely in his arms, and for a moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything that’s happened over the last four years – all the pain and bloodshed, all the horrors and tears. Through it all, Hunter has been a steady presence.

As you sift through the good memories, certain moments stand out. There was that day at the lake on Kintan, where the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The two of you had sat side by side, another successful mission under your belt, your laughter dancing in the air. You remember stealing glances at him, the way the sunlight had caught in his eyes, adding more warmth than you thought possible to those endless pools of brown.

Then there were the late-night conversations while you were deep in hyperspace, where you’d lose track of time, sharing dreams, fears, and secrets. Hunter’s voice, soft yet determined, painted a vivid picture of what he wanted from life after the war.

You could only hope those wants had changed.

Hunter drew his senses in, letting the crowd in the plaza fade into the background as he focused on you, the steadiness of your heartbeat, the feel of your hand in his and your bodies pressed together, and the subtle change to your scent. “You smell different.” He comments, curious eyes finding yours.

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d stomp on their foot.” You laugh, a little caught off guard by the statement. “I…” You trail off, the warmth that had faded from your cheeks now returning. “I stopped wearing perfume while knee-deep in the war, but now we’re out the other side of it. I thought I might try it again.” You admit, head dipping bashfully, before worry laces through you. “Is it too much? I aimed for something I hoped wouldn’t bother you and your senses.”

Lips parting at your answer, Hunter blinks with disbelief. Here you were in a sweet little dress, one of his bandanas keeping your hair up, and now you’d dropped on him that you were wearing a perfume picked out with his heightened senses in mind. He groans, desire churning through his veins. “Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?” 

Freezing, you think for a moment that you’ve misheard him. “What?” You question softly.

Hunter realises his mistake, but it’s too damn late to take the words back. 

In the following pause, neither of you moving, simply staring at one another, Dax spots his opportunity and steps forward. “Can I cut back in?”

Hunter has to actively stop himself from grunting in frustration at the interruption. “We’re not done.” He tells him politely, making sure to keep his eyes on you. He knows he has to say something to you. “Cyar’ika, I…”

Dax huffs, finding it unfair that this man had swooped in and stolen you mid-dance and refused to let him back in. “Look, bud-“

Something snaps in Hunter, and his head whips to the side, eyes narrowing at the man you’d been dancing with. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help the Maker…” He growls out the threat, no longer caring that he’s being rude. This was too important. You were too important.

Your jaw drops, and you watch in disbelief as Hunter threatens Dax. Your heart races, and for a moment, the tension in the air is palpable. Dax, a bit taken aback by Hunter’s sudden intensity, raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“Whoa, whoa, man.” Dax stammers, realising he’s pushed Hunter’s patience to the limit. He steps back, allowing some space between him and the seething clone.

Hunter takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, regaining his composure. He turns back to you, his eyes softening as he tries to find the right words. "Cyar'ika, I'm sorry. It’s just... I need to talk to you.”

Your heart still races, but now it’s not just from the tension between the two men. You look into Hunter’s eyes searchingly. “What is it?” you ask, your voice filled with concern.

Keeping hold of your hand, Hunter leads you away from the crowd, finding a quiet corner of the plaza where you can talk in peace. The silence lingers for a few minutes as he struggles to find the right words, scrubbing his free hand over his face, having never anticipated this moment would come. 

Unable to bear seeing him so stressed, you step closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart thuds heavy under your palm. “H…” You breathe the little nickname you’d given him shortly after joining them all those years ago, which breaks him out of his funk. 

“You’re a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful in this galaxy.” He blurts out, catching you off guard. “Your kindness, the way you listen, how you look after everyone around you — you’ve had me captivated since the day you waltzed onto the Marauder like you owned the damn thing and introduced yourself. And now, it’s terrifying to think of my life without you in it.” Once the words start, he can’t stop them.

“And I know we’ve been friends for years, and I value that more than anything in the galaxy. But seeing him dance with you and thinking of him doing it again…” Hunter huffs, trying desperately not to get worked up. “I mean, cyar’ika, the colour…” He gestures to your dress with his free hand. “And you’re using my bandana to keep your hair up, and you picked out a perfume with me in mind...” He trails off, knowing he’s shared so much that he can’t return from it, but Maker does it feel good to get the weight off his shoulders.

A small smile weaves onto your lips, even though you know you shouldn’t be happy, given the man you love is clearly stressed. “What if I told you none of it was accidental?” You murmur, your hand on his chest smoothing across the firm plane of muscle. “That you didn’t misplace your right pauldron the other week – I borrowed it to colour match. And I purposefully asked Omega to use your bandana earlier when she was tying up my hair.” You confess, eyes darting up to watch as surprise paints itself on his handsome features.

“You know, I’ve spent countless nights replaying moments in my head, wondering if you ever picked up on how my heart races when you’re near or how I can’t keep my eyes off you when we’re together. I didn’t want to make things awkward or ask for something neither of us could give in the middle of a war. But we’ve made it out the other side, so…” It’s your turn to trail off.

Your words hung in the air, and Hunter’s heart began to race, his body swirling with so many emotions it was difficult to grasp onto any of them. A rush of warmth surged through him, from the tips of his fingers to the depths of his soul. Gazing into your eyes, all he finds is pure, unwavering honesty. Your sincerity was a balm to his fears.

Hunter’s silence unnerves you, but you’re not backing out now. Not when the promise of something so much sweeter is tantalisingly close. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.” You whisper.

Hunter’s gaze never wavers from yours, and a flicker of relief crosses his eyes as he realises that this isn’t a cruel joke or an illusion. It’s real. The tension between you seems to crackle with anticipation as he takes a deep breath, finally finding the words he’s been searching for. “I’ve wanted you since the day you walked onto the Marauder.” He admits softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “I’ve tried to be strong, to protect you and the rest of the squad, to not let my feelings get the better of me. But I can’t deny it any longer. I want you with every beat of my heart, every breath I take.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the intensity of his desire in the way he holds you and the way he looks at you. There’s no turning back now.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Hunter leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The world around you fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of you finally giving in to the magnetic pull that has existed between you for so long. The kiss is a promise, a declaration of all the unspoken feelings and desires built up over the years.

As your lips parted, Hunter rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged with emotion. “I want you, and I’m yours.” He whispers, his voice filled with love and longing.

A radiant smile spreads across your face, and you reply, “I’m yours too, Hunter. Always.”

His smile matches your own as he pulls back a little, though his fingers remain on your face, now stroking across your jawline. “Want to get out of here?”

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you nod. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Hunter’s eyes twinkle with excitement and relief as he takes your hand and leads you away from the plaza, slipping down side streets towards your home. As you walk hand in hand, you can feel the electric connection between you two, a spark that has finally ignited into a full-blown flame.

Halfway there, Hunter pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucks you against the side of a building, his lips finding yours. His kisses are hungry, filled with longing and desire, as if he’s been waiting forever for this moment. And in truth, he feels like he has.

As the kiss breaks, your laughter echoes in the stillness of the night, smile as bright as the stars above as he disentangles from you, drawing you out of the shadows and back towards the house. As you reach the front door, he stops, his free hand moving to your hair, plucking the flower from Dax free. Carelessly, he drops it to the floor.

“Hunter!” You exclaim, watching the delicate bloom hit the pebbled path beneath your feet.

Something dark shines in his eyes, sending a thrill through you. “The only things in your hair should be my bandana,” his hand reaches for your ponytail, giving it a gentle tug as he leans in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Or my hands.”

Breath catching, Hunter’s lips meet yours for a passionate kiss. The front door is pushed open, and you’re guided inside, steady hands grasping at your hips as he kicks the door shut behind you both.

Heart thudding as both of Hunter’s hands cup your face; you sink into his touch as his tongue slides between your lips, tasting you. He leads you up the stairs, refusing to break the kiss for even a moment as you reach his room. One hand leaves your face to push the bedroom door shut, and a moment later, you’re pressed up against it, Hunter’s body pining you in place, an arm resting on the door above your head, caging you in. That earlier sense of safety creeps back through you.

Tearing his lips from yours, Hunter’s chest heaves with each breath, a fire licking its way through his veins as you both open your eyes, gazing at one another for a split second. His head dips, mouth leaving a trail of delicate kisses along your throat, groaning as you tilt to give him better access, the prettiest moan sliding from your lips as he laves a kiss to the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet, following it with a quick, gentle nip.

Knees shaking, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one until you can push the fabric off his body. The rough pads of his fingers drag across your bare thighs, breath stuttering as the hem of your dress meets his grasp. He breaks contact just long enough to lean back and lift the garment over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck…” Hunter curses quietly, eyes roving over your exposed body, the curves and dips of your frame, the swell of your bare breasts. A needy groan escapes him as he realises your panties match the dress, too.

Before self-consciousness can creep in, he’s dragging you to the bed with a hungry kiss, pushing you back onto it, kiss breaking as your back meets the soft mattress. For a moment, you both pause, drinking the other in. There’s a wildness in Hunter’s eyes you’ve never seen before, a warmth in your cheeks at how his eyes devour you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times – while sparring or coming out of the fresher, changing, or patching up wounds, but now you can look.

His broad shoulders taper to his narrow waist, and his tanned, toned skin begs to be touched. Half of him is shrouded in black ink, and a burning desire to drag your nails over the ridges of his abs has you licking your lips.

Hunter’s not faring much better, either. The sight of you sprawled on his bed in nothing but a scrap of aqua fabric, lips kiss-swollen, his bandana still in your hair, and your gorgeous tits exposed has him itching to fuck you on every surface, to fill the room with the scent of your arousal and make you scream his name over and over again. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” Hunter breaks the momentary silence, reaching down to palm himself through his pants.

The action draws your gaze downwards, and you watch delightfully as the man you love gives himself a stroke through the fabric.

Hunter’s nostrils flare, picking up on how the simple action drew more of your heady scent from between your thighs. At the foot of the bed, he slowly sinks down onto his knees, eyes never once leaving you. If you smell that delicious, he can only imagine how you’ll taste.

Propped up on your forearms, you watch as Hunter sinks down between your thighs, those warm brown eyes focused solely on you. Fingers skim up your calves, feather-light, gently pressing your legs wider as they reach your knees. His head turns inwards, gazes breaking as he presses soft kisses to your thighs, tongue leaving small, slow licks in their wake. He takes his time savouring you, savouring the moment.

Lips brush across the juncture between your thigh and hip, sucking small marks against your skin before Hunter buries his face against your clothed pussy, eyes shut as he presses his nose against your clit, inhaling deeply. Your scent pulls a low growl from him, the vibrations making you gasp. “So wet already. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” Hunter vows, tongue pressing forward to lick across the damp fabric of your panties, making your breath stutter at the contact as your head thunks back down onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut.

Fingers prying the material down your legs, Hunter dives back between your thighs, dragging the flat of his tongue through your soaked folds, delighting in the way your hips buck and you cry out. He was right; you taste even more delicious than you smell, and he groans at your tang on his tongue.

Drawing your legs over his shoulders, he settles in, licking long, broad strokes across your pussy, familiarising himself with you. His senses home in on you, mind cataloguing every slight noise you make, every jerk of your hips, the way your breath quickens when his tongue skirts oh so close to your entrance and then circles around your clit.

Needy little whines escape you, every nerve in your body alight as Hunter teases you, lips and tongue exploring you, his nose bumping against your clit to send sparks of desire surging through you. Warmth pools in your belly, and it only grows as the wet warmth of his tongue presses against your entrance, dipping in. “Hunter…” You moan out his name, fingers burrowing into his hair as you cant your hips, grinding against his face.

Pride blooms in Hunter’s chest at your response, and he keeps going a little longer before he flicks his tongue up and across your clit, the sounds of your cries of delight like music to his ears. Hands grasping at your thighs, he presses your legs up, almost folding you in half as his tongue sweeps side to side, teasing his way back down your pussy as he has greater access.

The change in angle makes you moan, free hand clawing at the sheets while your hips rock, chasing the delight of his mouth. A light suck on your clit makes you gasp, the warmth in your belly building with every swipe of his talented tongue. Dragging his tongue around the edge of your folds, he draws an arch, skirting around the top of your clit again. “Hunter, please.” You crack, desperate for him.

You feel him smile against you, releasing one of your thighs, fingers roaming up your body until his tattooed hand gently squeezes one of your breasts. His mouth is relentless, tongue finding your clit, firmly moving side to side over the sensitive bud as those talented fingers of his tweak your pebbled nipple.

The warmth crescendos, spilling over, and you cry out his name as your release slams into you, making your body shudder, gasping for breath at its intensity.

Hunter works you through the high, and as you whine at the overstimulation, his mouth leaves you, fingers letting go of your nipple to smooth over the soft skin of your breast. “Beautiful.” He whispers reverently, tongue darting out to lick his lips and drink up the taste of you as he watches you come down from the high, your heavy-lidded eyes opening to meet his gaze.

With your hand in his hair, you guide him up your body, small hums of delight leaving you as he peppers kisses across your stomach and chest, laving little licks across your breasts as he drags you further up the bed. He breaks away for a second, using one hand to remove his belt and shuck off his pants.

You watch as he strips completely, acres of tanned skin finally revealed. As he ditches his boxers, his hard cock springs free, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips, thighs parting a little wider. You relish the low groan the action pulls from him before he takes himself in hand, fist sliding along his shaft for a few pumps. He’s average in length but thicker than you expected - anticipation coils through you.

He prowls up the bed, settling above you, letting a little of his weight rest against you. Dark eyes meet yours, and you can’t hold back your smile, fingers reaching up to trace along his face. Drawing his head down, you steal a kiss, letting the moment build as your eyes flutter shut, tongues brushing together. Hunter shifts above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other dips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock as he teases the velvety head through your soaked folds. Achingly slowly, he presses forward, your lips parting as you let out a soft moan at the stretch as he eases into you inch by inch.

“That’s it, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re so pretty, taking all of me like a good girl.” He whispers against your lips, enjoying how your breathing changes and your heart races at his words. You feel like heaven as he bottoms out, hips flush against you, chests pressed together as his hand moves back to the side of your head, redistributing his weight.

The stretch as Hunter fills you is exquisite, and your eyes open to gaze up at him in awe that this is happening – that this incredible man is yours. The first slow roll of his hips has your head tilting backwards, a breathy sigh filling the room.

The pace builds, your hands reaching for him, dragging up his back and down his flanks, nails scraping along flushed skin, making him grunt at the combination of pleasure and pain. Desire coils through you, building with every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock as he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in. He leans down to kiss you, demanding tongue sliding between your lips to taste you.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good around me. Made for me.” Hunter growls and the sound of your bodies meeting creates a background of white noise. “Won’t last long, baby. You feel too good. Fucking dreamed of this.” He adds, supporting his weight with one hand again, thrusts never faltering as he reaches down to grasp one of your legs, hauling it up. He presses a kiss to your ankle before he pushes your leg towards your chest, the change in angle enabling him to thrust into you even deeper.

Eyes falling shut once again as he drives you closer to the edge, you whine and whimper as his cock repeatedly rubs against your g-spot. The hand he’d used to pry your leg up moves to your breast, fingers tweaking your pebbled nipple again before he gently squeezes. Your name falls from his lips, raspy alongside his command. “Come for me.”

Between his hands, cock, and voice, you’re powerless to resist. Fingers scrambling at his body for purchase, your back arches as you cry out his name, desire bubbling over into a rush of euphoria that sweeps through your body and momentarily renders you speechless. Tremors wrack through you, toes curling as you desperately pant for breath, hazy eyes opening to look up at him.

Feeling you come apart, watching you fall into pleasure beneath him, was more than Hunter could’ve ever asked for. You were beautiful every day, but lost in the throes of an orgasm he’d given you? You were divine. He could feel the pressure building, feel himself teetering on that edge.

“Where?” The roughness of Hunter’s voice caresses you, warm puffs of his breath tickling your ear from where he’s bent down to bring you both even closer, caging you under him as his thrusts grow sloppy, muscles taut under your hands.

“In me, please.” You whisper back, and the deep moan he lets out will forever be seared into your mind.

Hunter gives a few final thrusts before he presses in as deep as he can, a guttural sound leaving him as his eyes screwed shut, thighs shaking as he hits his own peak, the pressure evaporating into molten bliss as he gives you everything. Slowly, the pleasure pulls back, like the tide, and he swallows thickly as his eyes open, breath catching at the sight of you.

You’re gazing up at him like he hung all the stars in the galaxy, indescribable love woven through your features. Carefully, he lowers your raised leg, fingers rubbing to return some of the feeling as his lips meet yours with a tenderness that could only come from years of shared moments, mouths moving in perfect harmony, a slow, sensuous exploration of one another.

Hand sliding to your waist, Hunter holds you still as he gently eases himself out of you, shifting to lay on his side, drawing you against his chest.

You nestle into his embrace. Your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The years of laughter and tears, the countless shared experiences, and the trust built over time have all culminated in this moment.

Hunter presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and you can feel the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He draws lazy circles on your back, a comforting motion that brings you a sense of security and belonging.

With your bodies pressed together, you both revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The room is filled with a peaceful stillness, and you listen to the soft melody of your combined breaths, knowing that this love is the anchor that holds you both steady in a still-turbulent galaxy.

[unclewaynemunson]

prompt idea! :D

steve being a poet and eddie being a songwriter. they both reference each other in their works and no one has put it together yet.

( also hi you're awesome )

Oooh anon I love this, this is such an intriguing concept bc the possibilities are ENDLESS with this one! I hope you like the direction I ended up taking it in :) (and thank you so much for dropping this in my ask box! <3 )

EDIT: I wrote an expanded version for this one and it's also on ao3 :D

---

Jeff was the one who introduced Eddie to Ronan Right. His mom was moving and when Eddie visited to help, he found his friend with his nose buried in a small book that was nearly falling apart in his hands.

“What's that?” Eddie asked, flopping down next to Jeff among the boxes.

“My mom's favorite poet,” Jeff mumbled, barely glancing up from the page.

And as soon as Eddie got a chance to pick up the book from where Jeff had left it, he was hooked. He was no help at all for Jeff's poor mom, completely engrossed in poem after poem, reading them again and again and again.

Eddie liked reading poetry to get some inspiration for his songwriting, but a lot of poetry had this atmosphere of pretentiousness around it. This didn't. It was surprisingly simple. To the point, with a rawness to it, mostly short poems that had a simplicity with which they managed to cut right to the heart of things.

Ever since that day, Ronan Right became Eddie's biggest source of inspiration. He'd never start working on new songs before reading one of Right's poems first. And whenever he got stuck on his lyrics, he'd pick up one of Right's books – and every time, without fail, he'd find something in there to help him find the right words.

---

When people would ask Steve what inspired him, his answer was always the same, always simple: music. Most people probably assumed that by that, a poet would mean classical music or maybe jazz of some kind. They were wrong: Steve Harrington, professionally known as Ronan Right, liked to blast the most screamy metal imaginable whenever he was writing – much to the discontent of his poor neighbors. He didn't care much for lyrics, it was all about the sound for him: about volume, about harmonies, about a combination of ingredients that somehow managed to flip a switch inside of his brain that unlocked the more creative ways to look at words.

His favorite band was called Corroded Coffin. Something about them stood out in the long list of metal bands he loved to listen to. It was something about the sound of the singer's voice, about the guitar riffs, that simply made sense to him, made the words that he was looking for bubble up to the surface naturally.

He got halfway through the first song on Corroded Coffin's newly released album, when he froze at his desk. He didn't care much for lyrics, but those words... There was something familiar about them.

He replayed the song from the beginning and started frantically flipping through the pages of one of his earliest poetry bundles... Yeah, there definitely was something familiar about those lyrics.

They weren't copied, exactly. It could just be a coincidence.

But the album kept playing on and Steve kept getting distracted by the lyrics because there was so much familiarity in them. It wasn't like the singer was stealing from him, it wasn't even like he was taunting his copyright or anything like that... It was like he was building on Steve's words. Like Steve had laid a foundation that had sparked Corroded Coffin to make something beautiful. Like the two of them shared a mind, a soul, an inspiration.

And Steve wrote the best poem he had ever written, in one go, that day.

---

More bundles followed. More albums were released. And they kept interlocking with each other, one causing the other to do something new, try something different, figure something out.

Ronan Right was still an obscure poet, well-respected but not mainstream enough for bigger successes. Corroded Coffin was still an obscure metal band, praised by the connoisseur but too experimental to ever get anywhere bigger than the verge of the metal scene. The only one who noticed the textual similarities between the two, was Jeff's mother. She'd smile her knowing smile and chuckle quietly, delighting in her own private understanding.

---

A new book was about to get published. Steve had to drive down to Chicago to meet with his publicist and talk some things through, but his car was in the shop so he got on a train instead. The meeting went well, Don't try to be a hero officially got the green light, and feeling content, Steve pulled out the latest Corroded Coffin cd to put in his walkman as soon as he got on the train back home.

“Hey,” the guy opposite him said with a smile and a nod towards Steve's walkman, just before Steve could put on his headphones. “Corroded Coffin, nice.”

“You know them?” Steve asked, taken by surprise, a matching smile creeping onto his own face.

“Yeah.” The guy chuckled. “Yeah, I know them.”

Sunlight fell through the window and shone on the big rings around the guy's fingers, catching Steve's eye – and pulling his gaze towards the tiny book he was holding in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “Ronan Right, nice.”

The guy stared at him for a few seconds, something like disbelief in his big brown eyes. “You know him?!”

Steve felt laughter bubble up in his chest. “Yeah, I know him.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Language Barriers

same anon as like 5 minutes ago, I remembered the fluffy prompt! Could you write a Sanders Sides DLAMPR fic (before they get together) where all of the Sides have different love languages? And they’re all trying to flirt in their own way, but the others keep misinterpreting it? A lot of TSS fic features the Sides having different love languages (and I’d like to think they do, in canon), but I’ve yet to see a fic that specifically focuses on that fact and describes the differences between love languages. Feel free to ignore, and remember to take care of yourself! – anon

hey I love love love love LOVE your writing! If you’re open to prompts rn, I’ve just reread your story "Idiots, Idiots, Everywhere" and it’s awesome, thanks very much, BUT. Are you willing to write a Sanders Sides fic where it focuses more specifically on all the Sides having different love languages? Bonus points if it’s DLAMPR (but platonic PR, this is an incest-free household) and all the Sides are like “…but he’s like this with everyone”. No pressure at ALL, but it’d be cool to see how you approach that. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3431

Or, five times the Sides misunderstood each other's love languages, and one time Thomas got fed up with it and decided to just...explain it to them with the efficiency they have when they're trying to explain something to him. Which is to say: it takes them a second to get it. The Imagination helps.

Physical Touch

If you were to ask anyone, they would tell you that Patton loves giving people hugs.

It’s the bane of some of their existences, they’d try to claim, and the others might just shrug and say that’s Patton for you. He knows his kiddos love it, at least a little bit. But he won’t lie, he does love a good hug. There’s just something so magical about how, out of all the shapes humans could have possibly been, they’re just perfectly designed to hold one another. Isn’t that just perfect?

Logan would probably say something about evolution and adaptation to the needs of their environment, or something, but he’s not gonna rain on Patton’s parade. Humans are hug-shaped, so they’re gonna hug. Besides, he’s not complaining when he’s working downstairs in the winter and he’s gotten too absorbed in his work and then a Patton-shaped heating pad just comes along and hugs him.

Patton loves hugging all of the Sides. Logan because he’s always so surprised by it, in a good way! He gets this soft little look that is almost on the edge of a smile, like he wasn’t expecting it but it’s the best possible outcome he never could have predicted. Or when he’s trying to comfort Patton and he hugs with undeniable certainty.

Virgil is also fun to hug, because he’s such a pouty-face about it. He snuggles up as much as any of them but he has to put on his mopey show first, just in case anyone’s watching. Virgil also gives the mopey hugs too, but then he makes himself just a bit bigger so he can wrap all the way around Patton. Which is the best.

Speaking of wrapping all the way around, Janus has six arms and he uses every single one of them. They get into competitions sometimes—not serious! It’s all for fun!—about who can surprise-hug each other the worst. Or best. Janus is currently winning from the time he managed to make himself look like the chair in the living room with a blanket over it; Patton sat down and boo!

Remus isn’t allowed to do surprise hugs, not after he accidentally tackled Patton into his Kraken’s pond and they had to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get out of the pond. But Remus’s hugs are the kind that squish his soul right back into his body and ugh, there’s nothing better than that after a long day. Besides, it’s not like expecting Remus’s hugs takes anything away, he’s still going to squeeze him so hard he might not be able to breathe for a few seconds, but that’s Remus!

And then with Roman—Roman hugs the way every single knight from a fairytale should hug. He just makes you feel safe and precious and like nothing in the world could hurt you. It’s why Patton always sits next to Roman during scary movie nights, after all, even if he gets teased about it a little. Roman doesn’t mind.

So yes, Patton does love hugging all of them. But it doesn’t have to be hugging! It can be holding hands, or just leaning against each other, just as long as he can feel them and tell himself yes, they’re okay, they’re right here, I love them.

Because he does. He loves them terribly. Even if they think he’s just a big fan of hugs.

***

2. Quality Time

Virgil has the reputation of being the cat of the Mindscape for good reason. Not because he hisses at things that don’t cooperate—the other Sides are not excluded from this—and not because he spits up hairballs—it was one time, Remus, and it was entirely your fault—but because he has a habit of just appearing in the same room and hanging out for a while.

…alright, it’s not a habit, he does it on purpose.

Companionable silence really is the best way to go about things. You’re both close enough to talk if you want to, but each of them is allowed to do their own thing and hey, there’s another person doing their own thing too. Which is why it’s his favorite way of hanging out with Logan, especially when he needs to make sure that something gets done. He’s always down to affectionately bully Logan into whatever he asks him to make sure he does.

He does that with Remus too, but it’s not exactly the same: Remus needs someone to make sure he doesn’t actually destroy anything, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Especially since he likes to get a bit of a heads-up before a rampaging beast goes barreling through the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the morning.

If he’s never beating the cat allegations, Janus sure as hell isn’t helping. There’s a big window in the Dark Sides’ half of the Mindscape that is perfect for lying in for, oh, a few hours on end. Remus has many—too many, if you ask Virgil—pictures of the two of them just basking in the sun, dozing like they haven’t got a care in the world.

Virgil’s actual favorite place to sleep is with his head in Patton’s lap. Especially after he’s just finished baking, when he’s all warm from the oven and he smells like sugar and spice…Virgil will sit on the counter or the floor and listen to Patton talk about whatever he wants and then while the oven bakes, he’ll fall asleep right in Patton’s lap. He even gets first dibs on whatever just got made.

Roman makes a game of it. He’s the Prince, every good Prince needs a rogue to work with. They trek all over the Imagination, having adventures, defeating monsters, it’s the perfect mix of Roman’s quests and Virgil’s need to be a creepy little shit in every dark corner he can find. Being with Roman even makes boring council meetings fun, because he gets to terrify the idiots that they’re just gonna fight later anyway and he gets to spend time with Roman.

He doesn’t care what he’s doing, not really, just as long as he can spend time with them. He just…wishes they would understand that sometimes.

***

3. Words of Affirmation

Logan is no stranger to impostor syndrome, but that doesn’t mean he has to allow it to plague those he cares for. Understanding something to be true on an intellectual level and feeling the validation that comes from hearing someone else voice it are two very different things. The other Sides are each remarkable in their own right. They deserve to hear it.

Patton is kind. He does not say that lightly: kind people who choose to be kind because they know how difficult it is are not individuals to be trifled with. Patton makes the conscious choice to try and be better every single day. He is earnest and sincere, sometimes painfully so, but he does not allow himself to be dissuaded by obstacles. How could Logan not want to express his admiration?

And Roman…oh, Roman is a wonder. There is so much that goes into his work that often goes unnoticed, or underappreciated, and it is a crime that Logan too often finds himself on the wrong side of that line. Roman is clever and funny and has a work ethic that, truly, rivals Logan’s own. For every slight he makes, however unintentional, he tries his best to make up for it by telling Roman in no uncertain terms how honored Logan is to be part of his creative process.

Remus is an entirely different story, no pun intended. Remus is unabashedly and unapologetically himself, and as such is a marvel to behold. He cares not for the sanitization or reduction of anything in his work, and so Logan does his best to follow suit. Remus is who he is, and it is beautiful.

He tells Janus he’s beautiful too. And not once is he lying. The first time he did it, Janus laughed in his face, at least until he realized Logan was telling the truth. He then didn’t see Janus for an entire week. It ended when a little snake plushie appeared outside of his door in the middle of the night with a tiny note that just said thank you. He tells Janus he’s beautiful every chance he gets now.

Virgil is his little alley cat. Perfectly fine to approach on his terms, but will let him know with no uncertainties when he’s getting a little too close. It doesn’t help that Virgil is quite fun to tease, even if all he’s doing is giving him compliments—true compliments, mind you—and watching in amusement as Virgil curls up into a ball with his hood pulled down over his ears as if that could hide how red they are. He’s not cruel about it, of course; he stops the moment Virgil appears genuinely uncomfortable and there are certain topics he doesn’t go near. But Virgil can’t always hide his little grin and so on it goes.

He’s quite happy to shower them with his words, he just…doesn’t know if they’d believe him if he said I love you.

***

4. Acts of Service

Words are difficult. There is so much ambiguity to be found in even the most basic of sentences, and when it comes to matters like this, Janus prefers to take as few chances as possible. Whoever coined the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words,’ Janus definitely owes a drink for how spot-on it is.

Whenever Patton needs a hand in the kitchen, he’s always the first to volunteer. He can do up to three things in the time it would take another Side to do just one, after all, and he’s had enough experience cooking for the troublemakers (Virgil and Remus) to know how to get around most of their pranks. And how to get them back.

Logan, bless him, has a tendency to overwork himself at the best of times. And in doing so, he gets these terrible knots and cramps in his neck and shoulders from hunching over his desk for hours on end. It might not be the most polite of things to practically blackmail his way into giving Logan a massage, but the poor dear always falls right to sleep so he mustn’t mind too much.

Remus and his delightful menagerie of creatures often need more than their fair share of attention. He had to pester Remus into getting him a raincoat and muck boots that could withstand the acidic slime, but weekend mornings found them strolling cheerfully through pens and cages and paddocks, tending to the bizarre flock. Anything to make the chore more of a fun activity and less of, well, a chore, when Remus really doesn’t suit stressed-out frowns as well as manic grins.

Virgil has a terrible habit of not asking for reassurance when he needs it. Janus regrets the part he played in making it that way. So, no matter how small and stupid Virgil may think it is, whenever he asks for help, Janus gives it. A tug on his cloak or a soft please will have him do anything from turn the light in the hallway on to checking the poor thing over for wounds after a brutal nightmare. It took long enough for Janus to re-earn that trust, he’s not going to lose it if he can damn well help it.

Out of everyone in the Mindscape, only Roman truly appreciates his love of theater. Sure, the others are game to help out here and there, but when it comes to the art of make-believe, Roman is the proud owner of Janus’s ‘yes-and’ partnership. The two of them make all sorts of stories together, from villains and heroes to morally grey adventurers, to simple fairytales and old plays. Roman needs someone else to help him play the roles and Janus is more than happy to play with him.

Perhaps one day, he might be able to reveal that everything he does for them, he does because it’s them, but for now, he’ll happily play the role they expect of him.

***

5. Gifts

Roman and Remus do not, in fact, fight over who gets to give the most presents to the other Sides.

Instead, they fight over whose idea they work on first.

For Logan, Remus’s self-writing pen narrowly won out over Roman’s proposal for a never-ending notebook, if only because said pen squirted ink into Roman’s mouth before he could finish his argument. They ended up giving both to Logan at the same time, but the pen was decidedly on top and did its own little celebratory wriggle when Logan used it for the first time.

Remus nearly challenged Roman to a formal duel when it came to designing a heat lamp for Janus that wouldn’t run the same risk of burning out the electricity in their section of the Mindscape. They managed to agree on everything up to the design on the lampshade. Roman said it should be a yellow snake, curled up and sleeping, and Remus wanted it to be a big leaf that Janus could lay under like he was actually outside. The compromise was eventually reached over many hours of almost bloodshed and now the sleeping snake under a leaf is a staple in the corner of Janus’s room.

Roman cleverly proposed Virgil’s weighted blanket while Remus was being crushed under said blanket, leaving not a lot of wiggle room until he had to agree. Of course, he promptly fell asleep and cuddled Roman into a pile of goo, so technically they made both the blanket and the plushie at around the same time. Virgil still brings the little skeleton to movie nights.

Patton gets their presents one after the other, because you need one to understand the other’s context. A rebreather designed to slip on over the person’s face just like any other face mask, to filter out particulates and allergens. Something that could be worn for up to two consecutive hours before it needed to be recharged.

The other present was a box full of kittens.

”Ro?”

“Yeah?”

Remus pushes his goggles to the top of his head and looks over the desk. “Do you think they’ll ever get it?”

Roman sighs, closing his notebook and leaning back to stretch. “I don’t know, Re. I love them, really, they just…”

”Don’t realize.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. We’ll get there eventually.”

“Of course we will. Hand me that wrench, would you?”

“The one that’s covered in guts, or the one that’s made out of foam?”

“The foam one. I need to whack this thing but I don’t wanna hit it too hard.”

“I’m not gonna ask any more questions.”

***

+1: I Love You

”Hey!” Patton rises up first, clapping his hands. “Oh. I’m the only one here.”

“Only by a moment,” Logan says as he joins him. “Is Thomas here?”

“No, I just got summoned by—well, I thought it was Thomas but he’s not here.”

“Whoa, hey!” Virgil appears on the staircase. “What’s going on? I was in the middle of watching someone.”

“Don’t you mean ‘something?’” Remus appears, covered in slime and cackling. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve got it,” Roman says, rising up and spraying his brother with something that somehow manages to dissolve all the goo without staining or spraying anything else. “There. Now maybe you’ll think twice about surprising Uma when she’s feeding?”

“Oh, I’m gonna do this so many more times!”

”I felt the exasperation from my room,” Janus sighs, appearing, “what’s Remus done now?”

“Why did you assume it was Remus?” Janus just looks at Logan. “Fair enough.”

”Now that we’re all here, what is this about?” He looks around, frowning. “Where’s Thomas?”

“That’s weird, is he not the one who called for a meeting?”

“What’s that?” Virgil reaches out and picks up a piece of paper from the coffee table. “‘Each one of you needs a card, find the matches.’ What cards?”

“Here.” Logan picks up something that fell when Virgil picked up the paper. “There are only five of them, though, and six of us.”

“What do they say?”

“Let me see…one says ‘Physical Touch,’ one says ‘Acts of Service,’ one says…oh, I see.”

“I don’t,” Patton says, “can you share with the class?”

“Wait, wait, I think I know what this is, is one of them ‘Quality Company’ or something?”

“‘Quality Time,’ yes.”

Roman nods. “It’s the Five Love Languages.”

“Thomas doesn’t even speak Spanish!”

“No, no, Padre, not literal languages, it’s…it’s the ways you express your affection for someone. How you tell them you love them. There’s five: physical touch, acts of service, quality time…”

“‘Words of Affirmation,’” Logan continues, reading off the other cards, “and ‘Gifts.’”

Virgil hunches his shoulders. “So what, are we supposed to pick one?”

“I believe the intention of the exercise is to…select which one is our love language.”

Janus huffs. “Why? What does Thomas have to gain from doing something like this? And where is he?”

“Maybe he’s not the one who summoned us.”

“Well then who did?”

“Maybe if we do the thing we can find out.”

Janus sighs, peering over Logan’s shoulder and squinting. “I guess this one’s mine, then.”

“‘Acts of Service?’ Very well. I suppose I’ll take ‘Words of Affirmation.’”

“Can I have the touch one?”

“Certainly.”

“Twins get ‘Gifts,’ obviously,” Virgil mutters, “which means I get the…time one, or whatever.”

Logan hands out the last two cards and they stand there for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Patton looks back down at his card. “Wait, did you say these are how we tell people we love them?”

“That is a simple definition of this, why?”

“Because you guys do these with everyone!”

There’s a pause. Logan adjusts his glasses. “Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but…yes, I do indeed give you all words of affirmation, because, well…”

“Aww,” Virgil says, “do you love us, Logan?”

Logan coughs, blushes, and adjusts his tie. “I believe that is a logical conclusion, yes.”

“Aww!” Patton squeals. “I love you guys too!”

”So whoever set this up knew that we were all trying to tell each other that—“ Roman starts.

“—and needed to hammer it into our heads what was happening,” Remus finishes.

“Well,” Janus sniffs, even as a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, “how dramatic.”

Virgil tugs on the strings of his hoodie. “Yeah. How dramatic.”

There’s another pause.

Roman coughs. “Uh, this seems like a good a time as any, um…Remus and I put together a festival thing in the Imagination for everyone, if you want to…if you want to come and see it.”

“It has everyone’s favorite state fair stuff,” Remus sands, “and there’s supposed to be a northern-lights kind of thing after it gets dark.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.”

“Will there be food?”

“Your favorite, shadow-ling.”

“You two are so thoughtful,” Logan says softly, “I would love to come.”

“I can get the good blankets from the closet,” Janus offers, and everyone grins, “should we meet there in ten?”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

The Imagination is just happy they finally sorted it out. Now, to give the six of them a group date they’ll never forget…

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[chwedout]

chwedout has finally reached 1k followers! thank you to everyone who decided to press the follow button, from those who followed me way back in the spiderstingle days to those who only followed me recently, i really appreciate it! to celebrate this milestone, i've decided to do a few things.

first of all, i've finally started a tracking tag — #chwedoutbox. you can find more about it in this post. i can't wait for you all to use it so i can see and share all the cool things you create.

secondly, i've decided to open up my ask box to requests! all you need to do is choose one of the following prompts and send a request through my ask box.

seventeen member + music video (e.g. vernon in rock with you)

seventeen member + going seventeen episode (e.g. mingyu in svt's kitchen for two)

this or that (e.g. left & right era wonwoo or 24h era wonwoo/ long haired jeonghan or short haired jeonghan)

there's no limit to how many requests you can send, go wild if you want to. i just ask that you be patient with me as sometimes i do like to go outside to breathe in fresh air and touch some grass. sending requests on anon is okay too! however, i won't be able to tag you when i do eventually post your request.

now i just want to say a massive thank you to all of my mutuals! being sappy lowkey makes me cringe but i couldn't have reached this milestone without any of you. to my og mutuals (i won't tag you dw) who were here way before i turned into a kpop blog, to my newest mutuals who i probably haven't spoken to, thank you! i hope you all know how much i appreciate you and that you all mean so much to me ♡

first of all my ride or dies- the hhu wives- sarah @vertiny, bec @storyoflight, and alex (idk if you deactivated </3) i literally would not be here without all of you. we've been through so much together and i just want to say that i love all of you so so much! let's all hope that we can one day go to that svt concert together.

j @vcrnons - my dolly in crime and my first ever caratual on tumblr! if i remember correctly, you followed me way back when i hadn't fully committed to being an svt blog yet. thank you so much for being so kind and supportive to me when i first started. i mean it when i say i don't think i'd be here if we didn't become mutuals since your work always inspired me to start creating myself.

ophelia @lee-sanghyeok - another one of my fave vernon stans! thank you for always being a joy to see on the dash! you're so incredibly sweet and i know i can always count on you to send me vernon content when i ask for it.

kashi @jeonsupershy - one of my fave wonwoo stans fr! seeing all of your wonwoo gifs always puts a smile on my face. every time he does something i just know that i'm going to be reblogging one of your stunning gifs later in the day. thank you for always being such an awesome presence on the dash. i'm so grateful to be mutuals with you!

max @scouped - you are so incredibly talented and i really hope you know that! i'm always in awe whenever i see one of your creations on my dash. you definitely inspire me to push the boundaries of my creativity when it comes to making content. i do miss your presence on tumblr but i'm always happy when i see you on the dash from time to time.

tiff @uservernon - my beloved dolly moot! thank you for always being so sweet. you always bring such a fun and bright presence to caratblr and i love seeing you on the dash or in my notifs especially when you're screaming about vernon. the url is still a powermove in my opinion!

maddie @jeonwon-wonwoo - you are genuinely one of the kindest and friendliest people i've met on tumblr. i've had so much fun talking to you about the most random things. i'll never forget our chats about the walking dead and teen wolf. i hope you're doing well!

yena @fairyhaos - my fave joshua stan! i hope you know that every time i see the couch shua pic i think of you lmao. i always love seeing you lose your mind over shua and you never fail to make me laugh with all the tags you leave on posts. thank you for bringing such a positive energy to caratblr! i'm so glad to have you as a mutual.

zaynab @galatariel - another one of my insanely talented mutuals! your gifs are always so gorgeous and always inspire me to go out of my comfort zone and create something new. i always enjoy seeing you make content for the things you love. thank you for being so kind and helpful.

nuri @jjunhui - again, another mutual who is extremely talented! everything you make is just stunning and your svt as text posts gifsets never fail to make me laugh. thank you for being so supportive and kind. i am so grateful to have you as a mutual.

nana @kyeomies - so glad to see that you're back! i've always enjoyed seeing your pretty gifs on my dash and can't wait to see more of your content. i hope you're doing well!

yo @redrcbin - literally one of my most beloved mutuals! i'm still not 100% sure when we became mutuals but i think it's pretty funny if it was because of the c-word game. i always love seeing you on the dash and in my notifs, especially when i see you losing your mind over wonwoo or mingyu. i'm so happy i get to call you a friend.

and to all the mutuals that i haven't talked to or interacted with that much - @jeongtokkie, @kimsmingyu, @wonboos, @leedonghun, and @soonhoonsol - thank you so much for being awesome! i really hope we do get to talk more in the future.

now i'm going to kick myself because tumblr won't let me tag anymore people and i'm pretty sure i've missed out on so many beloved mutuals of mine. i'm extremely sorry if i did, but please know that i appreciate every single one of you so much!

[solomons-poison]

hello! could you do solomon with prompt 33? your work is awesome :))

Touch Starved with Solomon

A/N: Thank you so much, anon! I never anticipated this many requests, I'm really happy people like my nonsense thoughts haha. I think this prompt is perfect for Solomon, he definitely comes across as someone that is very touched starved (honestly I could argue the same for practically all the boys, even Asmo in a way..) so this was fun. Sorry it took a while to get to but I hope you enjoy!

Featuring: GN reader || Solomon x reader

Warnings: fluff and perhaps some angst?; needy Solomon, he needs some hugs :(

══════════════════

Honestly, it came as a surprise to both you and Solomon. Even before dating, you noticed he could tend to get a little touchy-feely with you more than the others, draping an arm across your shoulders or putting his hand on your elbow as he directed you somewhere, or during magic lessons. Hugs sometimes lasted a little bit longer than intended and he always seemed reluctant to pull away.

You thought that was just his nature, that he was this way with everyone. But you eventually noticed he was only this way with you in particular. After you two started dating, you attributed this just to his romantic feelings for you and didn't think much more of it. However, even that didn't seem to explain it completely.

It was a discovery for both of you almost simultaneously. With Solomon's immortality, he'd stopped developing deep connections with regular mortal beings, especially humans, as the years went on. He wanted to be surrounded by community, of course, but it was hard to experience loss over and over as he constantly outlived the people he came to know.

He was even hesitant about dating you, to be honest with himself, because he worried about the same thing happening with you. But his relationship with demons and other sorcerers was strained and focused on business, not friendship, so his social needs sat neglected due to his worries.

That's why, even before getting together with you, he seemed to be coming apart at the seams with want for affection and just simple human touch, and his growing feelings for you certainly didn't help. Now that you two shone the light on the cause of it all, it became clear he was simply touch-starved and helped you figure out what you could provide to him.

Of course, Solomon doesn't want any of the other demons knowing this, anything that may seem embarrassing or showing weakness to them. But he's glad it's out in the open to you. If you respond well and provide him with all the attention he needs, you'll have earned yourself a big cuddly cat of a sorcerer.

Some of his favorite things are just cuddling up close to you at the end of the day, letting you thread your fingers through his hair and leaving soft kisses on his face. (Sometimes he forgets you were playing with his hair and he leaves the room looking like a mess...) He also adores touching your hands, rubbing circles on the top of your hand and kissing your fingers.

Occasionally he slips up and someone else may see how touchy he is with you, Asmo and Simeon often being the witnessing parties, but as long as you're not bothered by it, he'll let it slide. It's just his way of showing his love for you and appreciation for you being by his side.

It also goes without saying that if you aren't particularly into touch, yourself, he will rein himself back so you aren't uncomfortable. Honestly, anything you can afford him is still leagues better than nothing at all, and he wants to be respectful of your boundaries at all times. But just know that he is your sweet, loving, touch-starved sorcerer ready to be by your side whenever he can.

[nctsworld]

10k followers... insane!!! i'm always appreciative for all the love on my gifsets, stories, and more. i know i haven't been that active in the last year or so, but i'm always around and am grateful for those who've stuck by over the years. thank you so much <3 y'all are amazing!!!

RULES:

followers only (i will accept anon messages but i'm hoping you follow me ;_;)

reblog this post (likes don't count)

send me an ask with any of the following emojis and respective specific info below

i will be taking asks/submissions until sunday, october 22nd at 11:59pm pst (pacific time)

as always, please be patient and no promises on getting everyone’s gifts done!

tagging everything with #nctsworld10k for blacklisting purposes

some of the ideas for this i've taken from this sleepover post!

gifts for you:

💚 gifset of one to three nct members

send in the names of one to three nct members and i’ll make a gifset of them!

feel free to add concepts, colours/colour palettes, videos, moments, etc. (eg. renjun + 7llin series; yangyang + xiaojun + smiling; taeil, jeno, jaemin + blue, etc.)

🎨 aesthetic archive moodboard/gifset

i will glance at your archive and blog and create a moodboard/gifset based on what i see!

optional: let me know what is your specific aesthetic if it isn’t obvious (eg. water, cities, neon lights, colours, etc.)

📖 blurb/fic request

send me one nct member, a genre or two (fluff and/or smut preferable, but i can also do angst and comedy), and any mixture of tropes/kinks/aus/prompts from this list and i’ll write a short blurb or fic!

🎵 song from my spotify list

i will put my liked songs playlist on spotify on shuffle and give you the song that comes up!

gifts for me:

🍵 confessions

confess to me something on or off anon

🤞 guess the fic 

explain one of my fics to me badly and i have to guess which one it is - here is a link to my masterlist

☀️ song recs

send me your favourite song + the artist who does it and tell me why you like it!

tagging the wonderful people who have made my time here awesome!!! special shout-outs to y'all :3

@ambivartence @baekhyuns-lipchain @baekonbaek @baekwin @dearlyminhyung @delhyun @djxiao @fadedinmysong @haechanhour @hchan @hotdogct @huangrenjuns @husbandhoshi @hyuckles-chuckles @hyuckworld @hy-ck @jae-min @jaemtens @jenodreams @jeongvision @jjsungie @lee-minhoe @leehanie @leemarkies @lunena @nakamoto @nctaezen @nctdream @nctsjaemin @neocitycafe @neoneun-au @ohoshi @potatzu @ppangjae @ressonancee @sehunniepot @taeminnomuyeppeo @uservernon @vamphaechan @winsmoke @yunogf

[reasonsmandy]

Avoiding Me

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by 2 anon — hiii i was wondering if you could write a eddie roundtree x fem!reader where she’s in a different band kinda like paramore and is very hayley williams coded??

Request for Eddie round tree with a mix of the prompts 25 and 33? Pls and thank youuuu

✧.* summary — During a record label festival you and Eddie get into a "conflict"

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 1.5k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — Hope you guys like this one, I found this couple so lovely...

You bring the microphone close to your mouth once again and repeat "Testing testing” paying attention to how your voice was sounding on the speakers. You give a thumbs up of approval to the sound manager and then turn to your band members.

You were currently the lead singer for one of the big rising bands on Teddy Price's record label, In a few days the festival promoted by the record company would take place to celebrate 20 years of the company and you were working hard to provide a good presentation for those who were attending.

Festival days were stressful, for you the stage was the moment where more than ever you had to prove your talent and that you were capable. The other members of your band noticed this and even though you weren't very close, they were trying to calm you down.

“Hey rockstar.” Dan, the guitarist, calls for you. “What about we take five, uh?”

“You know I can't, we don't have much time.” You protest, taking in air to sing, but he takes the microphone from you. “Really?”

“I promise you, just ten minutes.”He insists again.

“You said it was five.” You laugh, crossing your arms against your body.

“Hey Y/N, I think you'd like to see who arrived.” The band's drummer, Elijah, calls out to you, quickly heading towards the backstage.

They knew very well where to attack to persuade you, curiosity was certainly one of them. You look at Dan to see if he had any idea what this was about, but he just shrugs, so you decide to go after him.You take off your jacket and throw it on the drum chair without worrying, entering the corridors that gave quick access to the more mechanical side of the festival.

You bump into several people in a hurry and stressed, trying to find your partner among them, but from the moment your ears caught Warren Rojas' euphoric laugh you knew why Elijah said such a thing. You think about turning around, but it was too late, they had already seen you.

“Look who it is!” Rojas exclaims, walking towards you and with that calling the band's attention to you.

Don't misunderstand, it's not that you didn't like their presence, you just wanted to focus on your work and with Eddie around it was always difficult. You see the figure of Roundtree smile at you, which immediately transports you to the first time you met.

…

Teddy couldn't have chosen a more complicated day to ask you for this favor, in your rush you were running the sound as quickly as you could in time to cover a band that had an unforeseen event and they weren't able to play. You were extremely stressed but you tried your best not to let it affect you, the crowd gradually filled up and you felt your heart galloping like a horse.

Eddie, Warren, Graham and Karen entered the bar and positioned themselves at the table closest to the stage. They would play after the band that was on stage, which despite being from the same record company they didn't know until then.

“Damn, they sound good.” Graham says, passing his arm around Karen's waist, hidden from his friends.

“Good? This is awesome!” Karen says, admiring the way you were leading the band and taking the spotlight without even trying.

She, and honestly, most people weren't used to seeing a woman star in a rock band, and that certainly caught the attention of Roundtree, who, with his mouth open, just watched you give yourself on the stage. You interacted with the audience, sang the song with your soul, spun around singing, without fear of hitting the highest notes. From time to time calling your friends to dance with you while performing.

“I want to be her husband.” Eddie says amidst the singing and noise around him, Warren looks at him holding back his laughter.

“Say what now brother?” He questions, arching his eyebrows provocatively.

“I want to spend my whole life by her side” Eddie speaks without taking his eyes off you, who now had his tongue hanging out as he felt the chorus emanating from the guitar solo.

“Slow down bro, she is too much for you.” Rojas says, patting him on Eddie's shoulder.

The clock struck two in the morning as you all rested in the dressing room, Teddy was giving feedback to the members but you were simply exhausted, all you wanted to do was go outside and smoke and calm down, so that's what you do.

You walk past Teddy, resting your head on his shoulder in silent thanks, heading towards the nearest door. When the moonlight along with your eyes illuminates your face, you think about how messy your makeup must be right now and run your fingers under your eyes to clean them.

You take out a cigarette while leaning your body against the nearest wall, feeling your pockets for a lighter that is not found.

“Fuck.” You exclaim frustrated, drawing the attention of the bass player who was smoking too.

He approaches you, making sure you notice that he is there, avoiding any type of misunderstanding. You smile small when he offers to light your cigarette, and you remain in silence for a few good minutes.

“You sounded good up there.” Nervous, Eddie says.

“Why thank you…?” You leave space for him to say his name.

“I'm Eddie, nice to meet you.” He says taking a drag on his cigarette, and after the blow he asks your name.

“I'm Y/N.” He smiles when you say his name, you roll your eyes. “I saw you play, you guys are really good. I'm glad Teddy found you.” You say with a small smile, and when you see your cigarette running out, you put it out on your tongue. Throwing it in the furthest trash can. “I guess I'll see you around.”

From that day on, Eddie started making a lot of effort to meet you at the record company, sometimes spending time there that wasn't even necessary. You guys had a break together talking about rock bands and the new arrangements you were looking forward to try, he always told you about the ideas he had or even showed you them.

He started bringing you coffee in the morning and then ran to the booth where his band was recording, and whether you wanted it or not, your most private and serious side melted away around him. Little by little you started to notice that you liked him, even a lot. What scared you, and that made you avoid him.

You clear your throat with a fake cough.

“Oh hey Warren.” You say to the drummer, who pulls Eddie closer to him, making him see better. “Eddie.” You greet him succinctly, turning around to shake it off.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Roundtree asks for you, you slowly turn around trying not to look so nervous, after all that's not what you usually look like.

“I guess I have a few minutes.” You say avoiding his eyes.

He guides you to the most secluded part of the lawn, you light a cigarette against the nervousness that was growing inside you. All you wanted was to kill this feeling that was growing in you, that's why you avoid his eyes all the time.

“Did I do something?” He says, actually worried.

“What do you mean?” You ask back.

“You've been avoiding me, did I do something that upset you?” He tried to reach out to you but you avoid it.

“I'm just really busy." You say, inhaling intensely on your cigarette.

“Come on, you're avoiding me!” He insists, you roll your eyes while fixing your hair.

“I have more things to worry about than avoiding you.” You say defensively, still watching everything but his eyes.

“And why don't you look me in the eye then?” He approaches you, you swallow hard, clearly feeling your legs give out. “Tell me the truth.”

“I have nothing to tell you Roundtree.” You challenge him, looking into his eyes for the first time and immediately regretting it.

“Don’t you?” He gets closer to you, his breathing could be felt by you, he sees you tense but when he slowly touches your waist you melt into his touch.

You frown, irritated. “"I have nothing to say to you.”

“I believe you do." He whispers, staring at your lips.

“What makes you so sure?" You refute his speech, taking a deep breath.

“Because you wouldn't be that nervous, I know you.” He says with a deep voice.

“Fuck you.” You say before kissing him.

He pulls you close by your waist, while your arms wrap around his neck, he kisses you back more intensely. You intensify the kiss, stroking his hair and feeling your connection growing more, He lifts you so that your legs wrap around his waist, hugging you tighter. When you both gasp for air he puts you down once again, your foreheads touching momentarily but you step away quickly in defense.

“So?” He says while smiling, you roll your eyes.

“So what?” You ask, still defensive.

“You're the most stubborn person I've ever seen” He says in one breath, and you can't help but laugh. “But fuck I love being thwarted by you.”

“Well, I'd love to do that more often.” You whisper, kissing his lips once again. “I'll see you later Roundtree.”

“For sure you will!” He saw you walk towards the stage once again.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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[kendsleyauthor]

#11 anon here again! glad to hear you’re still taking prompts. i love your and mary’s works ❤️ im shy so i stay on anon, but seriously, so much love to you guys! anyway, if youre so inclined, might i suggest prompt #1? keeping it simple. #11->1 lol. all your characters are awesome — i don’t think andreas and lorelei have been prompted yet, so maybe this can be a vote for them? but also, id love to hear more about the godlike trio; they’re so fun! what is their origin story?!! again, dealers choice, and thank you kindly !💕❤️

LIVING NIGHTMARE

TW: Drowning, fearplay stemming from genuine anger

Print / Trinket Universe (Andres and Lorelei)

~1800 words

G/t dialogue prompt list

Thank you so much for the prompt and the love, beautiful! I know it's been a long time, but I am determined to catch up as much as I can!! As far as the Godlike trio, it would be sooo fun to explore their origin story one day! It is dense, but it essentially involves human sacrifice, trickery, and immature nature god politics 😋

As for THIS story-- reader, if you're new to the trinket universe, this interaction may be startling lol. The TL;DR for this particular situation is that Lorelei must live in secret for her and Andres' safety 👀

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Drowning.

Whiskey stings her eyes, blinding her. She can’t blink it away—it’s all around her. Immense pressure sits on her torso. Does it count as drowning if she wouldn’t be able to draw a full breath anyway? Her heels slide against the bottom of the glass, tractionless. She claws at the finger pinning her down.

Each swipe weakens.

The pain begins to fade. It’s almost peaceful.

She hears that’s what happens right before you die from suffocation.

Calm.

Quiet.

Free.

But a peaceful death is too much to ask for.

The finger relinquishes pressure, and she is wracked with agony. She draws in a lungful of whiskey and thrashes. Although she wants nothing more than to fade away, to kiss this hell goodbye, her body fights to survive.

She pops up to stand on trembling legs, leaning hard against an ice cube. The coldness burns. She coughs raggedly. Laughter rumbles from above. Her recovering vision registers the giants around her as nothing more than massive blurs of color.

The shape of a hand hovers over the glass before descending upon her again. She manages a single, pleading whimper before she’s forced onto her back, pinned to the bottom of the glass.

Drowning.

Whiskey stings her eyes, blinding her. She can’t blink it away—it’s all around her.

Immense pressure—

“Lorelei!”

The voice was familiar. Loud, but not at all the same as the booming laughter.

She flinched awake, gripping fistfuls of blanket as she gasped for air. Each breath was a painfully overwhelming gift. She squinted in the lamplight which cast the sprawling living room with warmth. The high windows gave view to an overcast night sky.

Safe.

“Lorelei.”

Blinking, she made sense of Andres’ form leaning over her on the side table. To her confusion, there was no softness in his voice, no suggestion that he intended to soothe her from the nightmare. No, he wanted her attention, and anything else she might feel was secondary.

“Andres,” she said groggily.

“What is wrong with you?” He sounded like he was making a great deal of effort not to shout. She shrank away from the bite in his voice. “What were you thinking?”

Frowning, she sat up slowly. She couldn’t relinquish her grip on the blanket—not with the way he was looking at her. She felt like a child using her covers as a shield against the boogeyman. This had to still be a nightmare. There was no reality where Andres would glower at her like that anymore. If he was especially bitter about losing a game, perhaps—but even then, he scowled with a glint of admiration in his eyes.

For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what she could have done in her sleep to piss him off.

“Were my screams of terror too loud?” she managed to croak. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.”

He didn’t seem to register nor care what she said at all. “Madison Jones,” he said flatly.

Her heart climbed into her throat. Now she really wished she was dreaming.

“H-how…” But she knew at once. She must have forgotten to log out of the alias account. She wet her lips. “Let me explain—”

“How?” he snapped, voice rising. “There is no explanation that makes this any less idiotic! You are smarter than this, Lorelei!”

Heat flashed through her, vicious and all-consuming. “It’s idiotic to want to check up on old friends?”

“Wanting is one thing.” The ice in his voice threatened to douse her fire. “Doing… Doing this is…” His jaw worked as though he was too angry to speak. 

He brandished his phone in her direction, the screen aglow. She turned her head. She didn’t need to look. He had gone through the chat logs of her alias and found every incriminating conversation of the past six months. Her hands shook on the blanket.

“I’ve been careful,” she said, softer. “They have no idea who I really am. They think I’m an aspiring player, new to the scene. A long-distance friend that they will never, ever meet.”

Tears pricked her eyes. God, she was pathetic.

And Andres wasn’t helping. He shook his head. “This ends now.”

“Please—”

“No. I cannot allow you to put us in danger like this. How could you be so stupid?”

The wildfire ignited again. She stood, shoving her blanket aside. She didn’t care that she had to crane her neck to meet his frostbitten glare. “So that’s it? You’re ordering me to happily isolate myself from the rest of the world—even with a solution right in front of our damn faces?”

“Zorra,” he cursed—a particular insult he’d never once aimed at her. “Your solution is going to get us investigated and caught.”

Her voice came out like a fist was squeezing her throat. “I miss my friends!”

He scoffed. “Am I not enough for you now?”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” She staggered two steps back, wondering how this could be the same person who cared for her, protected her. Sinking to her knees, she clasped her hands in front of her. “Should I be like this day and night? Thank you so much for being the only person in the world I can talk to for the rest of my life.”

For a single second, he looked hurt. “Stand up,” he gritted out. “I will not talk to you like this.”

But she was just as hurt and every bit as vicious, and she had to stop now before she said something she couldn’t apologize for. Rising to her feet, she turned her back on him and started for the makeshift stairway that would lead her to the floor. Throwing a pity party under a cabinet or sofa for the night would do her good.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To be alone,” she threw over her shoulder. “I can’t be around you right now.”

The last thing she expected was for him to deny her. Instead of sulking away or simply lapsing into disappointed silence, his voice lashed like a whip and made her flinch. “You are not going anywhere,” he said. “You are staying here. And talking.”

“About what?” She didn’t turn back, placing her hand on the railing. “Delete the profile yourself if it pisses you off so much.”

Silence. She thought that was the end of it, but no. “Come back,” he said through gritted teeth.

She said nothing, starting down the stairs.

A sudden tug at the back of her nightgown made her breath catch. She instinctively tried to wrench herself free, even if it would send her tumbling down the steps. In an instant, she was whisked off her feet. She gave a choked shriek as air whipped past her, and she found herself dangling in front of Andres’ infuriated face.

“Forgive me for not being better company,” he said venomously. “But I am trying to keep us both alive.”

Alive.

She was helpless.

She was drowning again.

“Stop!” she howled, half expecting precious air bubbles to rise from her lips. Her voice pitched into a scream that she only ever heard in her nightmares. “I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry!”

As quickly as it happened, it was over. She only caught a glimpse of Andres’ astonished expression before he lowered her into his waiting palm and released her. She scrabbled back, bumping against his fingers and burying her face in her knees. 

“Lorelei?” he whispered. 

He touched her shoulder, and she screamed. The air whirled again, and she dared to peek out. His hand rested on the side table beside her bed, offering escape. She jolted out of her fetal position, falling to hands and knees in her desperation to get away. Stumbling to her bed, she pulled her blanket tightly over herself, shaking too hard to make it to a better hiding place. She didn’t care how childish it was—she needed to reduce her world to a small space of darkness.

“Lorelei.” His voice was reverent, dripping with regret.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her wail reduced to a whimper.

“No. No, I am.” His voice cracked. Another gentle touch brushed her back through the blanket, pausing to gauge her reaction. She didn’t scream again, dreading that he was about to pull the sheet off of her. But he didn’t. He kept stroking, his breathing unsteady. “Please come out. I never meant to scare you like that. I…” Silence dragged for several seconds, and the touch of his finger pulled away. “Did I hurt you?”

She quietly assessed herself. “No.”

Another pause.

“Can you show me?” His words were a plea, not an order.

Hesitantly, she sat up and pulled the blanket off her head, letting it fall to her shoulders. His dark eyes searched her intensely for any sign that his rough handling left a mark. Even when he seemed sure that she was unhurt, he stayed close, staring into her eyes.

She broke the silence floating between them. “I couldn’t help it,” she admitted, looking down in shame. “I… I can’t just pretend I didn’t have another life. I miss my friends. My family.”

For a moment, she worried his anger would rise up again. But he looked almost as exhausted as she felt. Glancing at his phone, he pursed his lips. “Your family is not in the chat logs,” he noted.

“I…” She sniffled. “I picked people I wasn’t especially close to.”

“Why?”

She managed the smallest laugh. “I know you think I’m an impulsive idiot. And you’re right, I can be. So I gave myself limits.” Her shoulders slumped. “I knew if I reached out to my family, I wouldn’t be able to keep the secret up. Sooner or later, I’d spill everything just so they wouldn’t have to live another day wondering if I was alive or dead or swimming in someone’s drink.”

He regarded her with raised eyebrows like something was dawning on him. “You were tangled in the sheets when I came in,” he said slowly. His expression fell, and she dropped her gaze. She’d opened up about the nature ofher recurring nightmares before. “It was a bad one. I should have noticed I should have waited.” He sighed heavily, and his finger returned to stroke her hair down. “Are you alright?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

His finger paused. “Do you want me to leave?” he murmured.

She could tell that her hesitation hurt him more than anything. But ultimately, she shook her head again. Raising her hand, she found his finger and guided it to her side. She leaned against the warmth of his skin.

“Lorelei…” His eyes flicked up and down, drinking her in with fondness steeped in loving fear. She braced herself for the inevitable—the gentle but firm order to never pull something like this again. But he was full of surprises tonight. “I trust you. Please—give me another chance to be the kind of man you are not afraid to keep secrets from.”

Her tears spilled over, and she pressed a kiss to his knuckle. “I think I can do that.”

(A/N: I've had this on the backburner for so long, I'm glad to finally post it! I'm sorry that my first short story in a while is a gut punch lol 💞)

[ghost-bxrd]

Hey! I was the anon asking about your thoughts on Bruce being a bad dad (or really just closer to who he is in recent times) and honestly I just wanted your thoughts on it, so thank you!

I also love reading batfam fics where Bruce is a father that loves his kids and believes everyone can be redeemed regardless of whatever crime they may have committed: that’s honestly the Batman I like reading about bc thats what got me into his comics. But it gets complicated when I read fanfiction that uses stuff like UTRH as part of the fic’s lore and then just glosses over Bruce nearly killing his kid to save the Joker, bc that’s very uncomfortable to think about. It’s hard for me to believe that Bruce and Jason are cool when Jason now has the experience of his throat being torn open by his ‘father’ (bc I wouldn’t call someone like that my parent), and our last glimpse of him being his body crumpled to the floor in a pool of blood. Like thinking about how much had to happen between then to ‘now’ in the fic takes me right out of the fic bc that’s just what mentions of times Bruce was a bad father do to me 😭

I prob could’ve worded that more succinctly and shorter but as you may notice I expand a lot on my thoughts lmao. But if you do think up any prompts on Bruce being a complicated father in regard to Jason’s rule over Crime alley, please share!! I’d love to read them and MAYBE write something if the creative juices start flowing

Side note: Good mom Talia is my life blood. Like the struggle of trying to raise her children in such an unforgiving environment where she’s been trapped since SHE was a child OR in a place that, while not actively harming them (in a League where Ra’s isn’t evil), isn’t giving them the opportunity to shine the way she knows they could. Good shit.

Very valid. Everyone’s got their own preferences regarding tropes and world building 💚 and I can totally understand the batarang incident part. Jason should be pissed about it. Rightfully so. On the other hand I refuse to view this part as canon because the Batman I know would never and I steadfastly refuse to write this part as anything other than an accident/misunderstanding in every single fic ever lmaooo

Hehe I’ll try to come up with some complex parent Bruce Wayne prompts soon, so keep an eye on the corresponding tag ✨

And y e s, good mom Talia is awesome. Talia’s life hasn’t been easy but she’s trying to make the best of it and carve out her own little space of happiness for her and her son, and upon realizing that it’s still not enough immediately prioritizes her son’s safety and wellbeing to send him to live with Bruce. Something I imagine would be absolute agony for any loving mother. 🥺

[saltnsugarbear]

100 followers banquet!

hi hi hello!!

after some thought I've decided I wanted to do a mini celebration!

I'm not going to be doing a prompt specific celebration just because I personally find prompts difficult to work with so here's the guidelines!

- if you give me a general idea, I can write a blurb!

- please be patient! I work full time closing shifts so I just ask that you please please be patient with me

- take a look at my rules and boundaries and lists I have for who I'm willing to write for!

- Do I have anything else? I don't think I have anything else?

- This'll be running from tomorrow (the 18th) all the way to the 28th!

- I'm also just willing to talk headcanons, chat, talk about bad blood! carmy, boxer! lip or brand new au I'm working on, cam boy! lip

- but this is all for fun I'm so excited to keep rolling with you guys <3

I just want to prattle off some thank yous to a bunch of people:

first to my beloved maggie, the first person I ever sent anything to in their askbox in all of my time as a fic reader. gave me so much courage you are so beloved by me, if maggie has no fans I'm dead <3

to olive! just,,, my actual day one. the person I would send my most depraved thoughts to, who inspired me to make my blog, and just has been so delightful. I'm so grateful to my olive for chatting with me for just so many months on anon! she continues to inspire me, and I'm so glad I put so many asks in her inbox she's so beloved by me (she won't let me retire, please I haven't seen my wife and kids in two weeks /j)

to my moon!!! I feel like they are my other day one I love my moon she's so beloved by me. I feel the need to say thank you to them because I remember seeing them when I first started posting fics, and they continue to be one of my biggest supporters! moon, you are so loved by me, I love talking with you. You're my absolute beloved <3

and all my bearblr mutuals! I don't get to interact and chat with you guys as much as I'd like, but I love every one of you!! I've bounced around so many of your blogs and you're all so beloved by me! I have so much love for my bearblr mutuals and writers <3 you guys just continue to inspire me so much

and I just want to say thank you to just,,,,, everyone who has ever liked or reblogged or anything on one of my fics even if that's the only post they've ever seen of mine. it just all means so much to me. I can truthfully say I was very uncertain about starting this blog and what it would mean and how it would do but I think it will prove to be one of the greatest things I've ever decided to do?

bearblr continues to just be so kind to me. You're all so beloved by me <3

I'm so glad I made the choice to start posting on here I'm just

head in hands /pos

I'm in such a positive spot right now, which is so awesome, and I feel so loved by my bearblr mutuals and friends and,,

just feel very good and I'm going to start crying cause I'm a bit emotional all week already so

thank you guys <3

[pink-tk-a-latte]

PYPYPYPY! (That is how I shall summon thee. Like a cat's PSPSPSPSP- HEHEHE-)

If you feel inspired by my prompt, can I please request lee! Sigma and ler! Dazai? (Tone, romantic but not established relationship (YET LMAO-). I really don't have a coherent plot idea, I just woke up to the thought of Dazai *geeeently* fluttering his digits against Sigma's ears, sides, etc, being extra soft as Sigma desperately tries to crawl away, only to get pulled back into Dazai's lap (He loves it, he just refuses to LET himself love it XD). Sigma bby needs some softness after the last 3 years of his life tbh... And Atsushi is now experienced enough to predict Dazai's tickle attacks so his new victim is Sigma XD.

Have an awesome dayyy~!

-🫧 Anon~!

So I’m a cat girl now? (PYPYPYPY is hilarious from now on I will respond only to that) /j

ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!!! You’ve been such a pal bubble anon!! Genuinely I’m so sorry for how long this took :((( I’ll blame it on end of school year busyness but I’ve also just been generally waffling (I have no reference for how long it should take to finish a request… uhhhhhh…)

Warning for,,, a spattering of tildes (there’s like three)? I know it’s cringe but I think they’re fun~~~~~ lmaooo

Regardless!!! On with the Sigzai!!!!!

Sfw tickle fic!!!!!!! Pre-Relationship Sigzai 💜🤎

Gypsophila, Baby’s Breath

In his mind, Sigma felt weightless. As if he and gravity had become estranged, acquaintances who’d fallen out of touch over time. As if he were drifting, floating, falling through the sky.

But then there were clowns with sharp teeth and dove wings, and strange, pale men offering their hands, and sands and seas of red and orange, and pages, and elevators, and flooding ballrooms with classical music—

And he was riding a giraffe, for some reason?

Then Sigma awoke, gasping as though he'd been ripped from a freezing ocean, to a warm and fluttering breeze blown against the back of his neck. He slapped a hand against his nape, a shabby attempt to hide his reaction.

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty!”

Sigma whipped his head around, still achey and foggy as he tried to remember who he was and where he was and what universe this was supposed to be.

A dream? Sigma twisted his face and rubbed his bleary eyes. It felt so real.

Granted, he had no idea why he would think that.

“Come back to reality yet?” He thought he recognized that voice. It was bright and entirely unserious and brought a sinking sensation to his stomach. “It’s rare to see Sigma sleeping on the job~!”

“Huh?” Sigma surveyed his surroundings. The lights were off, the room lit solely by the tangerine rays stretching from the windows. He glanced down at his desk.

His desk. At the ADA. His not-quite-yet home, only because he had nowhere else to go for now.

He looked up. Dazai was leaning over him, eyes a soft and welcoming brown in the rusty sunlight.

The rusty sunlight…

How long was I asleep for!?

Dazai laughed in his frothy-bubbly way. “Don’t worry, you were only out for an hour or so. It was almost the end of the day already.” Pulling up a chair, he scooted beside Sigma. “Although I’m impressed you lasted that long! You were practically falling asleep at the wheel the whole day!”

I was? Abashedly, Sigma frowned and rubbed his forehead. He eyed Dazai from the corner of his vision. “How did you—?”

“—Know what you were going to ask?” Now, Dazai was leaning his chin on his hand and staring up at him. The tender, charmed amusement those coffee brown eyes fixed him with was too intense to stare at directly, like a solar eclipse. “It’s because you’re easy to read, Sig-ma.”

“Wh- You- I am not!” Sigma huffed. “I can’t help that I’m no superhuman.”

Suddenly quiet, Dazai hummed and smiled, brown eyes closer to black now that they were out of the light. “Is that so?” He reached for the long locks of purple and white that weaved around Sigma’s shoulders. “But you treat yourself like a work machine!” He twirled his hair around his fingers.

Sigma had noticed that — Dazai was always reaching to touch, whether it be patting Atsushi or Kyouka on the head, leaning on Yosano’s shoulder, stealing Kunikida’s glasses or Ranpo’s hat, or pinching Sigma’s cheeks (???). He was simply tactile, as though he did it without purpose or logic.

The accused work machine crossed his arms. “I like work, though.”

Dazai made a comically disgusted face, then smoothed his expression back into untouchable levity. “You’re strange.”

Sighing, Sigma ran a hand through his hair, peeved to find it frizzing in all directions. He adjusted the strands that clung to his cheeks and tangled in his earrings, tucking them behind his ear.

Dazai’s fingers followed immediately, curious toward his adornments. Feather-light, they brushed against the back of his ear.

Sigma’s disproportionate flinch did not go unnoticed.

He grabbed Dazai’s wrist. “Hey— Hands to yourself.” He couldn’t help how his tone wavered.

“Aww, but why?” he whined. “Your earrings are so shiny. I just want to see~ them, Sigma.”

Really, Sigma didn’t mind being touched, but the memory of Dazai’s fingers skirting the shell of his ear sent a crack of hot lightning down his skeleton.

Sigma nibbled on the dry skin of his lip. “I just don’t want you to pull them out or something…” His gaze trailed up.

When Sigma met Dazai’s eyes, his stomach dropped at their impish glint.

He should’ve known he’d been caught the moment he woke up.

“Your reactions are always so curious.” Dazai grinned, and then his arms were around Sigma’s waist.

"Wait!" While Sigma yelped, Dazai pulled him out of the chair and into his lap, skittering blunt nails into his sides. "WAIHAIhahait! StahaHAP!"

Dazai was being so darn soft, digits just barely making an imprint in his skin, that Sigma was embarrassed by how loud he was. It was more of the surprise than anything, but the gentleness and the premonition of it felt like colorful beams of energy erupting from his brain.

"Shh shh." Dazai's chin rested on Sigma's fluffy head. "Just relax. Don't fight it." Said hushly, as though he were speaking to a rowdy critter.

“Whahahat do you mehehehEAN?” He shoved at Dazai’s shoulders, gripping restlessly at the other rolly chair for succor, but it insisted only on rolling away.

Cheek squished against Sigma’s elbow, Dazai babbled placatingly, “Just that I think you would like this if you calmed down!” He wrapped one arm around the desperate man to secure him in his lap, then flurried his fingers in between his shoulder and neck. Sigma squealed and curled into himself, drive to escape lost.

It was as though all his thinking had floated away in a toasty bubble of mirth. All notions of his duties, his past, the wants of other people, erased and overpowered by touch in the guarded swaths of his skin.

“DAhahahazai! Ehehehieek!” Sigma rocked side to side uselessly. “NoHOhot thehehere!”

“It’s such a fun spot though!” Dazai sang. “You’re just so perfectly shaped for grabbing, hm?”

Sigma shook his head, hair swirling around his figure. “WHAhahahat the heheHE—!?” His face was euphorically warm, even at the affronting statement.

He felt moisture bead on his lashes from the force with which he lidded his eyes. Somehow, he’d turned to face Dazai, burying his face in his collar. Sigma noticed that Dazai’s skin was as acutely hot as he felt.

Easy access permitted, Dazai blew on his ear, then laughed at how Sigma bristled and shrieked. Sigma cursed him through loopy, frantic giggles; even so, Dazai put in the effort to look offended.

“It really hurts me that you still push me away!” He sniffled theatrically. “After the secrets and promises we shared? Don’t you trust me?”

Ridiculously, Sigma felt just a tad guilty. “IhihI dohoho, buhut- !”

“Aww, that’s nice of you.” Dazai leaned in close to his neck. Sigma felt those lips curl into a smile… and shivered. “Probably a mistake, though.”

Scritches at the spot beneath his ear and pinches at his hip fried his nerves until Sigma lost his mind. Such clement touches, such violent sensations. Confusion only made him more frantic: Did he want to run from the feeling, or melt into it?

Questions for another time. Right now he just wanted a break.

“OhohokAHAY! Thahahat’s ehehenough!” Sigma pushed weakly against Dazai’s shoulders.

“Fine, fine.” Dazai stopped shortly after, taking Sigma into his arms as all the tension evaporated from his limbs. He settled Sigma back in his own chair without separating. Though he flinched at the contact, Sigma stayed.

As Sigma wheezed and puffed, Dazai’s nose dug into his shoulder. “See? I’m only human too.” He trailed off. Then, cheekily, “I’m mere prey to my desire for you~!”

Sigma sighed and patted Dazai’s cheek, ignoring the flare of heat in his own. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you were beyond human.” His mouth quirked oddly. “You told me yourself there’s no such thing.”

Dazai chuckled. “I don’t know, you’re pretty extraordinary.”

The pats turned into a (fond) slap.

“Ow!” He lifted his head and nursed his cheek. Sigma knew that pout was fake. “Mean, mean, mean! And I was just about to ask if you had fun.”

“What?” Sigma did not like how often he was becoming flushed.

That irritatingly brilliant mind waggled his eyebrow. “It’s nice, isn’t it? For a fleeting minute, you don’t have to think about anything. It’s bliss.”

Sigma played with his sleeve. “I… guess.” The admission made him warm all over again.

Dazai clapped and cheered and Sigma hit him again. There was a gasp from the man he was leaning against. “Oh, speaking of! Chuuya was asking how you were. He wanted to make sure you were taking it easy.”

Ah, well that was nice of him. Sigma grunted, still slumped against Dazai’s chest. “And here you are, holding me at work overtime.”

"Then let’s start heading back, shall we?" Dazai slid from his seat and halfway knelt on one knee, offering his hand (the same hand that a moment ago had been— nevermind). Sigma shook his head in exasperation but took it anyway.

Through the door and into the hallway, Dazai pulled Sigma by the hand, wrapped firmly but tenderly around his fingers. He met his eye with a smug, reminiscent look. "You know, this place is like a ballroom..."

"I swear, if you start dancing again, I’m leaving you here,” said Sigma, staring down the idea forming in Dazai's head.

"But our lives aren't in danger this time!" Unheeding, Dazai had flourished his free hand, ready to tango.

Against all odds, Sigma’s brow relaxed. He was right. There was no imminent doom in this moment, just the ADA's halls leading to nothing but stairs and an elevator that wasn't rigged (not that he was inclined to use it). Just Dazai, his warm, satiny, playful hands, and his invitation.

With a breath, Sigma loosened his shoulders. He let Dazai pull him into twirl, then a wrap, then a dip, and they began their dance once again.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Baby’s breath symbolism: Purity, innocence, everlasting love and devotion, and new beginnings.

[feyreweekofficial]

Announcing Feyre Week 2024!

Hello everyone! We are so excited to be announcing Feyre Week 2024 which will be coming to a blog near you this spring!

Mark your calendars because we will be celebrating any and everything Feyre Archeron from March 18, 2024 to March 24, 2024!

Why is the Feyre week taking place in the spring and not later this year?

We originally thought about trying to do a week this December but this late summer and fall have been just so thorougly saturated with so many amazing acotar appreciation weeks we didn't want to just pile on. There's been so much awesome content coming out of the acotar fandom both here on tumblr and on instagram, we wanted to have there be a little break before our Feyre week. Additionally, making content and requesting commissions is time consuming and expensive and having all these events right during the holiday season seems very stressful. And of course the simplest answer of there just not being enough time to plan out a super awesome and thoughtful Feyre week, we want enough time to come up with lots of Feyre-loving events and for our participants to make their content.

Why those dates specifically?

We too have a strong association with Feyre Archeron and the winter but after thinking about it we haven't seen any Feyre weeks taking place during this time of year. March 19th is the Spring Equinox in the Northern hemisphere and we chose our dates to coincide with that. Feyre has such strong ties to life, death, growth, change, and new beginings and we want to honor that during our celebration of her character. Also there have been speculations that Starfall falls around or during the spring equinox and we thought it would be amazing to celebrate that around the same time (in our world) that they do in the Night Court!

When will the prompts be released?

We haven't come up with all of the prompts just yet but we're hoping to release them later this month or some time during October!

All posts related to our week will be tagged #feyreweek2024 so please feel free to follow us or that tag!

We won't be posting a bunch on here just yet but please feel free to send questions, our ask box is turned on and we're accepting anons! Thanks and we look forward to having a bunch of fun celebrating Feyre's character and we're sorry it's so far away!

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

It’s me, your favorite prompts blog!

I know you’ve written depression before. Can I have a short story where Peter is struggling with high-functioning depression? On the outside everything looks normal. On the inside, he feels like crap.

And Tony notices Peter’s not himself anymore

Mini Fic #4 for this round is here! (and prompts are still open! If you have something you would like to see me write in less than 1k, send me an ask! Anon or otherwise) This hurt/comfort prompt was tricky to squeeze into so few words, but I managed it! Thanks for sending in the idea @itsmechara426!

Not Alone 811 Words

Peter wasn’t sure when it had happened. But at some point he’d realized his days were nothing more than an elaborate performance. The banter, the jokes, even the pop culture references were all meticulously crafted performances meant to shroud the weighty emotions that had settled so deeply within him. He carried them all around in the back of his head. Buried deeply behind the pleasant facade he’d grown so accustomed to. He didn’t want to burden anyone with what was surely a personal matter. Not his friends, not his aunt, and especially not Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark was a busy man. He had responsibilities pouring in from every aspect of his life. Stark Industries needed his intellect, Pepper needed her partner, and the world needed Iron Man. Peter understood this and always made a point of not demanding too much Mr. Stark’s time. He didn’t ask about lab days or seek advice. There was no reason for him to be selfish. Mr. Stark didn’t owe him anything, least of all his time. So, despite his longing for a few additional hours spent in his mentor’s presence. He kept his mouth clamped up tight.

Peter sighed, taking a seat at the edge of an abandoned building to take in the view. Mr. Stark’s number popped up on his HUD. He considered ignoring it, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. If Mr. Stark wanted to talk to him, then Mr. Stark would talk to him.

As expected, the call was pushed through after three rings. “Hey, Kiddo. I’ve got some time this afternoon. Want to stop by and fine-tune that new web-fluid you’ve been messing with?”

“Uh, Yeah, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, plastering a fake smile across his face. “That sounds awesome.”

A look crossed Mr. Stark face. But it was so fleeting that Peter didn’t have a chance to decipher it. If he were to guess, he’d say it was concern. But that didn’t make any sense. Despite the misery swirling in his chest, he was acting out an expected enthusiasm with the practiced ease of a habitual liar. He batted the suspicion away, writing it off as a mild case of paranoia.

As he entered the lab, he made sure to add a skip to his step. He offered an exuberant greeting, bolted across the room and began pulling chemical components out of the cabinet without having to be asked.

Mr. Stark joined him at the workbench, reviewed the formula and provided a few suggestions. Peter nodded along and started mixing. It felt like a typical lab day until Mr. Stark casually shifted the subject miles way from chemical bonding.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Peter blinked, doing his best to remain upbeat and neutral. “Of course.”

“I mean about more than just science,” Mr. Stark said. He sounded frustrated but his face and tone relayed nothing but gentle concern. “I can tell you’ve not been yourself recently, and I’d really like to know what’s going on.”

“I- It’s nothing, Mr. Stark.” Peter swallowed, struggling to determine an answer that suited his act “Just- Personal stuff.”

To Peter’s relief, Mr. Stark didn’t press. He placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Well, if you ever decide you do want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

Hesitantly, Peter considered the offer. He waffled greatly between not wanting to be a nuisance and a surprising desire to open up to Mr. Stark. Although he struggled to see how it would help. Negativity had a tendency to be contagious, and he didn’t want to be the contaminant. He glanced up, his wary eyes meeting Mr. Stark’s worried ones. He suddenly felt compelled to say something. Anything to ease the building tension.

“Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on. Not really. Sometimes I just- I feel like I’m drowning,” he tentatively explained. It already felt like too much. He snapped his mouth shut and mumbled. .”The last thing I want to do is to drag you down with me.”

Mr. Stark’s expression softened. “You wouldn't be dragging me anywhere, Buddy. I’m ready to jump in willingly, life raft in hand.” He smiled sadly. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Buddy. I’m here for you.”

Not feeling obligated to handle everything on his own sounded wonderful. He wanted to follow through, open his mouth and let all the words come tumbling out. But he managed to choke them back. He wasn’t certain he was prepared for that. Instead, he leaned into Mr. Stark, initiating a rare hug. ”Thanks, Mr. Stark,'' he murmured. “But I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it just yet.”

“That's fine, Bud.” Mr. Stark turned his head, kissing the side or Peter’s head in the process. “But when you are. I’m right here.”