#TY so much for this prompt

[dr-shortsighted-owl]

Hey what about number 37 for the kissing prompt, if it sparks any imagination ?

Thank you! 😊

I am sorry this is so late, Thank you so much for the prompt - I hope you enjoy!

Link to this prompt on AO3

“You know, you’ll get square eyes if you keep playing on that thing all night, and with no lights on, Edmundo Diaz, for shame.” Buck tuts playfully as he enters the dimness of the living room, glancing at the drawn curtains and pulled-down shutters of the windows. 

Only the occasional bright flash from the fighting game on the TV illuminates Eddie’s profile, Chris’ blocky headset flattening his hair, where he sits on the floor reclined back against the softness of the couch. 

The older man huffs out a laugh as he pauses the game, swiping at the headphones to let them fall around his neck. 

Scattered around him lay scissors, various rolls of multi-coloured wrapping paper, and what appears to be a large tangled ball of badly stuck together tape. Squinting, Buck notices the shine of a few stray tape pieces dotting the front of Eddie’s forest-coloured henley, glinting like the tinsel covering the mantlepiece in the bright TV screen light.

A small mountain of neatly wrapped presents - corners folded to military precision - is stacked by the coffee table's end; yet still the two large bags Buck had dragged down from the loft that afternoon were not fully emptied of the gifts for Chris he and Eddie have been squirrelling away all year.

Wrapping: 1, Diaz: 0.

“I see the tape and paper won this round then.” Buck states, nodding at the victorious wrapping supplies. 

“I’m just lolling them into a false sense of security.” Eddie replies, going to push the ball of tape with a socked foot, only to think better of it, standing up just enough to fall comfortably back onto the couch proper. “I’ll be back for a second pass once I actually win a match.”

“Still trying to beat the Dog?” Buck asks, shuffling closer to the couch.

“Chris always plays him, I need to get better and show my son who's boss.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, Buck notes. 

That his son is able to beat him at video games, able to teach him - or at least, able to sit and nag his dad over his terrible memory of the characters' many, many button combinations and their corresponding counters. 

Buck has woken up at any number of odd hours now to the brightness of Eddie's phone screen illuminating his boyfriend’s face, scrolling the game’s wiki as if Buck himself were on an info-binge.

“And to think less than two years ago you hid away the TV remote and the console because an AI recommended you a better coffee maker.” Buck teases gently, grinning as Eddie predictably rolls his eyes - like father, like near-teenage son. “Speaking of which.”

The mug in Bucks hands is well-loved, a small chip on its rim, its colours now washed out from years of use, and from it wafts the familiar scent of warm Christmas spices, coffee, and steamed milk. 

A deep appreciative sigh rumbles though Eddie as he drops the control into his lap, and takes the offered drink, a hint of canines glinting in the flickering menu screen light as he smiles at Buck before taking a long pull of the coffee.

Buck still loves the gentle fondness Eddie's eyes soften into when he gives him something; a kiss as he rises to consciousness each morning, a hug as he seeks comfort after a particularly gruelling shift, or in this moment, a perfectly made gingerbread latte with plenty of foam, just how Eddie likes it.

“Got to keep you awake and alert, you gamer.” Fondness colours every one of Buck’s words, and he watches Eddie's smile bloom, upturned corners of his mouth peaking past the rim of the mug.

The reply, when it comes, is heartfelt, and foam-moustached, as Eddie opens his eyes from where he had closed them in near-bliss.

“I love you” Eddie says to the inside of the coffee mug, the sound distorting as it escapes the caffeinated confines.

Buck waves a hand. “I know, I know.”

Cheekily, Eddie cocks a brow and tilts his head towards the kitchen. “I’m talking about Hildy.”

It’s Buck's own turn to roll his eyes at his boyfriend's response, the wise guy.

“Yeah, yeah, of course you are. I don’t see Hildy driving you to work or keeping you warm in bed.”

Eddie’s eyebrows tilt up, a thoughtful look on his face. “Who knows what the future brings Buck, who knows.”

Eddie goes for another mouthful, only to make the foam moustache even larger.

“You’ve got a little…” Buck gestures with a finger to his own lip, only to chuckle as Eddie misses the foam moustache completely. “Come here.”

A large hand comes to gently cradle Eddie's jaw, the pads of Buck’s fingers feeling the roughness of the day’s stubble. 

From here, Buck can see the depth of Eddie’s eyes, the beauty mark high on his cheek, and the great white and brown foam mess that coats his upper lip. 

Slowly, he leans in, ever watchful of Eddie as the other man's eyelids dip slightly, breath hitching slightly as they enter each other's orbit. 

It warms Buck that he has this effect on the other man, seeing Eddie relax even further.

Got’cha

Like lightning, Buck pounces.

He leans in and lets his tongue swipe the spiced foam from Eddie's lip before pressing a gentle kiss against coffee-warmed lips, feeling the small shocked gasp Eddie gives against his own.

“I don’t see Hildy doing that now, do you?” Buck retorts, grinning as he pulls back enough to watch the pink creeping over Eddie's cheeks, the flush at the tips of his ears as he can’t help but laugh at his boyfriend's antics. 

Settling down beside him, Buck opens one of the drawers under the coffee table, rummaging round before pulling out the spare controller.

“Because I love you too - ah ah no you said you loved Hildy, I can be the bigger man here. I will take pity and give you some pointers to try to beat Chris.”

Sitting up straighter, Eddie presses a few buttons on his controller, letting the game switch to 2 player mode, the room now bathed in the white light of the character selection screen.

“Oh so you think you can keep up with Chris? you’re better than me, huh Buckley?” Eddie says playfully, knocking a knee against Bucks, letting it stay there, a point of contact.

Buck just shoots him a side eye, bringing a finger up to the ear closest to Eddie. 

“Tell me, just what move does Dog do if you double tap X then press O, with a tap to the right analog stick again?” 

There’s a look of faux innocence in those baby blue eyes as Buck presses a button and feels the slight bzzz of the second controller as it rumbles to life in his hands.

Eddie feels his face scrunch up as he tries to wrack his brain for the answer. 

Chris has most definitely told him before, in that slightly condescending teenage tone that Eddie knows hides his joy that his own dad is asking him for help. 

Spinning bite? No, no, that's only one press of the X button then the O… maybe it was…

Beside him, Buck chuckles, gently rocking his shoulder into Eddie’s, before selecting his hero, a knight holding a sword and shield aloft.

“Winner makes the next round of coffee and wraps the remaining presents?” Buck suggests, eyes focused on the screen, settling into the cushions, ready to start.

They are always like this; pushing each other that little further, faster, higher - be it at work or at play. 

And Buck knows they both love it.

Eddie just smiles, disconnects the headphones so they are now listening to the upbeat music of the game through the TV filling the living room.

“It’s on.”

[chalkrub]

putting my response to the palette challenge from oc-tober on da main blog because it accidentally became a full illustration. whoops. but this palette is like a brother to me and it fit mendel so well...what was i to do

[erwinsvow]

i feel like rafe would love to take pictures of innocent!reader while she’s looking up at him on her knees

why is he so icky stop.. <- thats what i wrote before starting n then i still made him a little cutesy. i have an illness. if you can write actually icky rafe so much props to you i just make him nice sajfajk every god damn time !

"yeah," you hear the word escape from rafe's mouth, though it's hard to hear anything at all over the sound of your own moans, rafe's dick lodged in your throat while you choked on it. your heart thuds dully in your ears too, blood rushing, because you're so horny, but rafe always makes you work for it. "jus' like that. good girl."

the praise makes you go faster, suck harder and use your hands where your mouth can't reach because rafe's too big. you look up for a moment through watery eyes, tears running down your cheeks while you take in your boyfriend's tilted back head, his hands tangled in your hair.

you like it, more than you had imagined. you used to think things like this were wrong, dirty. rafe had changed you completely, but you didn't mind. this was fun—watching rafe lose himself in the pleasure that you were causing.

as a result you take him as far into your throat as you can, choking on his dick and head dizzy with a lack of air. when you finally pull away to breathe, you cough, the spit on your lips still connected to the spit on rafe's tip, a trail hanging wetly.

rafe looks down, wishing he had his phone—you look perfect like this, his own corrupted angel. he could stare at this forever. he can't though, since you go right back for more and don't stop until he's cumming all over your tongue, hissing when you don't stop your motions and keep sucking, swallowing everything he gave you.

"shit, kid, jesus. fuck."

"was it good, rafey?" you ask, still sitting on your folded legs, resting your head on his thigh. you look up at him with your wet eyes, your shy smile.

"don't move." he leans over, grabbing his phone and taking a picture of you like that, staring up at him with his cum still on your lips. "god damn kid. yes, baby, it was good. shit. that's my new wallpaper." he worries for a second, that something like that is too much for you.

you beam from your position, smiling brightly.

"really? promise?"

[coldshrugs]

glamtober #31 - supernatural: mothman

my favorite american cryptid. i spent half my childhood in appalachia and those mountains are haunting and comforting. there's something nice about a fucked up creature trying to warn folks away from harm. this fit is silly but we can pretend she found it in eorzea's version of spirit halloween, right next to the sexy chirurgeon costumes.

items used:

head: tonberry head (jet black | ruby red) body: quaintrelle's ruffled dress (jet black | jet black) arms: demonic gloves (N/A | ruby red) legs: bunny tights (N/A | jet black) feet: makai priestess's longboots (ruby red) fashion accessory: fallen angel's wings

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

[saph-y]

🔮✨💀 Commission for @luciddreamsofmachines ♥

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 31: New Year's Eve

There was always a certain magic in the air on new year's eve. Steve could feel the bubble of excitement in the countdown and it almost felt like a clean slate washed over you as the fireworks brought in the new year. When he was little his parents would often take him to New York for the big celebration, his father often hosting a party. After they stopped returning home as often, Steve brought in the new year with Tommy and Carol getting drunk on his father's whiskey.

1983 he spent alone and hoped that 1984 would be better, it wasn't, well except for the kids coming into his life. 1985 saw him cuddled up in the living room with Robin watching the fireworks on tv, he hoped 1986 would be their year.

"Stevie, do you have plans for new year's?" Eddie had asked at Christmas dinner, Wayne had insisted he joined them when he heard Robin and the Hendersons wouldn't be in Hawkins this year. "Not really, Robin won't be back, I might just turn in early." He was kind of sad to be spending it alone this year.

"No! You've gotta have fun Steve! Come join us here, Rudy a couple doors down always lights up the best fireworks!" Eddie explained excitedly and who was Steve to say no to that face.

Steve had gotten to Eddie's around 8, a pack of beer and a warm smile on his face when Eddie answered the door.

"We've gotta get you your own key one of these days, Stevie, you're here enough." If that warmed Steve's heart that was his business.

Wayne wouldn't be back from work until 11, getting that holiday pay to help them through the rest of winter. The boys didn't mind, curled up on the couch watching movies, laughing and drinking beer. Steve felt a soft buzz from the alcohol but the butterflies were certainly because of the boy sitting across from him.

When Wayne got home they switched the TV to the countdown of the final hour of the year. Eddie moaned about the pop music they played but didn't seem to mind as much when Steve was pulling him up to dance around the trailer. Soon it was time to head outside with all the other neighbours to watch the fireworks.

"Here, Stevie, I know the perfect spot," Eddie said pulling Steve up to lay down on the trailer roof. They could see Rudy setting up the fireworks on the hill, sleepy looking kids still just staying awake gathered with their parents. The radio crackled as the last song finished and the countdown began.

Ten!

Steve could feel the magic start to fill the air, the new year was so close.

Nine!

He hoped that next year they'd all be safe, that next year would be their year.

Eight!

Next year he's going to make sure he spends it with Eddie, this has certainly been his favourite new year's eve.

Seven!

He turns away from looking at the hill to the other boy to find him already looking at him, there's something in his eyes.

Six!

"I'm glad you're here this year, Stevie."

Five!

"I'm glad I'm here with you, Eds."

Four!

Eddie's face is holding a soft smile and his eyes flick down to Steve's lips.

Three!

Oh, that's what that magic was.

Two!

Steve took a chance and lent forward, pressing his lips softly to Eddie's who immediately pushed back against him smiling.

One!

Fireworks went off behind them but they didn't care as they pulled away, twin smiles on their faces. Yeah, 1987 was going to be their year.

Ao3

[nyoomerr]

okay, i think that's going to be all the fic drabbles this time around! i did my best to get to as many of them as i could, but in the end, for as many that i answered, there was at least one other that i didn't ;w;

i'm keeping the unanswered prompts in my inbox, though - if inspiration strikes in the future and/or i have some free time, i'll try to get to them then! there's also one prompt i got that i actually like enough i'd really just like to write it out properly instead of a drabble, so 👀

in the mean time, thank you all so much for playing with me! it's been a fun part of my vacation ehehe.

all of the prompts i did (i managed 11 of them this time!!!) can be found here, if you want to check that you didn't miss any!

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

ohhh for the height difference poses maybe E2 with ari and sera? :D (sera deserves to be a gremlin daughter)

[prompts]

relax, is what he needs to do

[rattkachuk]

for the hurt/comfort starters I've gotta ask for mattdrai with "Please tell me I don't look as bad as I feel" please! <3

"Please tell me I don't look as bad as I feel."

Matthew frowns at Leon’s image on his phone screen. The dejected tone of his voice is more than enough to tell Matthew just how bad he’s feeling, but there’s also a slope to his shoulders and the stress in his eyes that he can’t miss after loving him as long as Matthew has. He knows how much responsibility Leon carries with him, and is very familiar with the helpless feeling of not being able to show up for your team.

“You don’t look great,” Matthew says truthfully.

Leon scoffs and rubs a hand over his face, “Oh, thank you.”

The image goes blurry for a moment while his phone re-establishes it’s connection with the shitty Boston hotel internet. He knows there’s not much he can really say to quell Leon’s worries, and it’s late and they both have a game tomorrow. Important games. He doesn’t know the full extent of what’s up with Leon, and doesn’t dig (he’ll find out later and chastise him for it then, just as Leon did to him last year), but he knows that it’s worrisome enough to make Leon call him in the midst of their playoff run.

“Hey,” Matthew says gently, “I know it sucks and I know that I really can’t ask anything of you that I wouldn’t do myself…”

“But?” Leon bites.

“If it’s really bad, please don’t push yourself,” Matthew pleads, quiet but sure. He can’t say much more than that. Can’t tell Leon that it’s not worth it. Can’t sooth him and say that everything would work out for the Oilers without him, for fear of the falsity of his words being too glaring.

Leon sighs, but is silent beyond that. Matthew gives him the space, doesn’t push, listens only to the faint sounds in the background of Leon’s room, and watches the soft flickering light of his TV. Matthew wonders absently what’s on.

There’s a set to Leon’s jaw, and he’s pointedly not looking at Matthew, but even through the pixelated video call he can see the shake to his body as he breathes in and out, “Matthew, you know-there’s just so much riding on this, right? What am I going to do if this season ends in another failure? I’m running out of fucking time, here.”

A pang of unfounded guilt hits Matthew, knows that Leon is a few years ahead of him and in reality it’s not that much, but in hockey it’s everything. Maybe he’s not as well acquainted with the hourglass of time taunting him just yet, doesn’t have to worry about the sand falling through the middle, faster every time he gets another blow to his body. Doesn’t know the pain of making it within reach of the thing he’s always striving for, only to have it ripped away in a blur before you can even get your legs underneath you. Every. Time. Matthew can see it ruthlessly eating away at Leon year after year, chips away at him and seeps into the corners of his being.

Matthew had been closer than Leon ever had, and he felt confident his team could do it again, could see his chances in the coming years only increasing. Coming from him, it felt wrong to placate Leon and tell him that next year would be better, when he’d already had so many years of loss under his belt.

“Then you’ll figure it out. We'll figure it out, alright?” Matthew swears, wanting Leon to know he never had to face this giant thing all by himself, that he didn’t have to cross any bridge without Matthew’s hand to hold, “I’m always with you, Leon.”

There’s a helpless gasp of air from Leon’s mouth, maybe the tail end of a sob stuck in his lungs, “Yah, yah. I know. Thank you.”

Matthew offers a small albeit sad smile, and they don’t say much else. Matthew doesn’t hang up, though, can't bring himself to sever the one line of connection they have in the moment. Leon doesn’t look in a rush to go, he’s three hours behind and has time yet. Matthew sleeps eventually and lets the video call go, so Leon doesn't have to be alone.

ao3 drabbles <3

[msshinylemon]

*Knock, Knock*

‘Tis a note found upon your chamber’s door,

Please read it, I implore

It holds a message of desire,

to know your thoughts and feel inspired.

~ i can’t just ignore these feelings i have for you. ~

Chuuya watched Dazai laugh, his edges turned soft under the morning light streaming through the window. His eyes fluttered closed as laughter fell from his lips. Butterflies fluttered within Chuuya, a familiar aching that was easier to shove down amidst the chaos of their usual everyday life.

He couldn’t pinpoint when these feelings had taken root, only aware they grew with each visit to the arcade, with every bet they won or lost together.

The light hit just right, turning dark eyes into pools of honey and amber. As the sun continued to rise, Chuuya knew he couldn't just ignore these feelings he had for him.

The thought didn't bother him as much as he thought it would.

[blackjackkent]

Fic request, BG3: Karlach/fem Tav, where Tav has died. After the reserection scroll is used, Karlach goes to pieces. Hurt/comfort.

Eyyyy, ty for the prompt! Sorry this took me a little while to turn around. :D Was fun to write, though; I do love me some Karlach romance and some hurt/comfort. <3 I hope you like!

-----

“You hear that?” Tav asks. The half-elf’s eyes narrow, glinting in the pale light of the moonlantern that is all that protects them from the cursed shadows. “Hold on a sec.”

Karlach halts obediently with the others and listens intently. Her head tips slowly to one side like a dog pricking up its ears, and her eyes drift half-closed in focus. But there's nothing. 

The shadow-cursed lands are, in fact, eerily quiet. The place is not only devoid of civilization but life - there's no sound of birdsong, no creatures creeping through underbrush, no leaves or plants of any kind. There's not even a stirring of breeze to knock together the dried branches of the long-dead trees. 

Karlach hates it. It reminds her too fucking much of the desolation of the Hells, dead and dry and full of dangers. Not nearly as hot as Avernus, she'll say that much for it, and dark as the inside of her boot. But still a little too close for comfort. 

“Don't hear anything, Soldier,” she says in a low voice. Astarion and Shadowheart both shake their heads as well. Then Karlach grins, an automatic reaction to the brief moment of tension. “Must've been my heart pounding, eh?” 

Astarion rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Gods,” he murmurs tauntingly. “Is that what passes for smooth in Zariel's army?”

Tav grins. “Shut up, Astarion,” she says, giving him a casual punch in the shoulder. 

“I'm just saying,” Astarion quips, “if we're going to have to watch the two of you give each other cow eyes every day of the week, you're going to have to come up with some better material.”

Karlach sticks her tongue out at him. “No one asked you, Fangs,” she shoots back. But she's laughing. It's really hard not to laugh these days, in spite of all the terrible shit happening to them. Astarion can mock all he wants - but she's in love, real love, for the first time in ten years. The first time maybe ever, truth told, because she can't remember any quick fuck back in the Gate that ever made her feel like Tav does. 

Tav is… gentle. Kind. When she touches Karlach it feels like the whole world is opening up to her, a feeling of hope like everything is gonna be okay. So yeah, Astarion can laugh all he wants, if it makes him feel better. Karlach really couldn't give less of a shit. 

She's happy. 

Too happy, as it turns out, because she's so lost in thinking these thoughts and watching the way Tav's smile looks in the lanternlight that she doesn't notice the first arrow coming in. 

-----

Tav’s scream is like a knife. Blood spatters across the dark ground as the arrow punctures her shoulder. 

A lithe, pale figure darts out of the shadows with a high-pitched giggle and throws something around Tav’s neck. Then in an instant she’s gone, vanished with the creature into thin air.

“Tav!” Karlach starts to shout - but it's choked off as another garrote bites sharply under her jaw and she's yanked backwards into the dark. 

It’s a horrific battle, one of the worst they’ve faced since the nautiloid. The meazels - little shits, every one of them - are quick and cunning, separating the party out into the searing darkness, silencing spells, bleeding them dry. Karlach doesn’t need spells, though, and her usual battle-rage is bolstered by a stunning degree of pain and an entirely unexpected violent panic. 

She wrenches her axe from the corpse of the meazel that grabbed her and tears off through the dark. Unheeding of both the blood pouring from her neck and the necrotic energy chewing into her skin, uncaring of what other enemies might hear her, she bellows at the top of her lungs. “Tav! TAV!”

“She’s here!” That’s Shadowheart, her voice weak. “Karlach, over here!”

Karlach almost trips, so quickly does she change direction towards the cleric’s call. Like a rothe maddened with fear, she leaves the path and crashes directly through the desiccated underbrush, dead plants shattering apart around her with every step.

Tav is dead when she gets there. 

Shadowheart is crouched over her, a useless healing spell in the process of drifting off her fingers. Astarion, blood dripping from his lips, crawls from the darkness opposite her. But Karlach’s eyes are locked on the form of Tav’s body in the dim light from her torch, the eyes blank and staring, the garrote wound flowing freely.

“Oh, no,” she whispers. “No, no, no, no--”

“It’s all right.” Shadowheart’s voice feels oddly far away. “I have a scroll, I’ll revive her-- Karlach, for gods’ sake, breathe!”

She is breathing - too fast, too shallow. The cut at her own throat throbs with each pulse of her heart. She drops the axe with a clang onto the ground and she falls on her knees at Tav’s side, grabbing the smaller woman’s hand and holding it between both of hers. “No, darling, no…” she mumbles. “Gods, don’t-- don’t look at me like that…”

How many dead people has she seen in her life? Could fill a library writing all their names down… But none of them have been her… those blank eyes are so wrong in her face which is always so full of life and humor and warmth… nothing like Karlach’s inferno heat but warmth and safety and home…

“Bring her back…” she rasps out desperately. “Please…”

The magic of the revivify scroll swirls around them as Shadowheart murmurs the words. There’s an achingly long pause during which Karlach finds herself reviewing every single moment of their brief time together and passing through every stage of grief in order; she’s just about reached “depression” when Tav’s eyes flicker open.

“K-Karlach?” she whispers, and then her body spasms around a sudden fit of coughing as she gasps for breath. 

“Oh, gods.” Karlach’s whole body sags with a relief as overwhelming as the grief was. Without thinking, she reaches out and pulls Tav up and into her arms, tight against the heat of her chest. “Oh, fuck… Soldier… Tav… shit…”

The words tumble out, one after the other, and she’s startled to realize that each of them is a sob, raggedly dragging out of her throat between hiccuped, jerky breaths. She’s alive. It’s not over. It’s not over. Oh, thank the gods…

“Hey. Ow. Hey…” Tav mumbles. It’s muffled from how Karlach has her pulled close; her face is sort of squished into Karlach’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Darling, it’s all right, but I can’t breathe.”

“Oh. Right.” She forces herself to loosen her embrace enough for Tav to draw her head back. “You-- sorry. Fuck. You scared me. I thought… I thought…” She can’t say it out loud. The words don’t come out.

“You’re hurt.” Tav gently touches the garotte wound in Karlach’s neck, wiping at the blood there.

“You died!” Karlach says with a sudden, hysterical laugh, flinching backwards. “Don’t worry about me! Just… you just sit there and… and breathe, or whatever, and… oh gods…” The tears blind her.

“Karlach…” Tav sits up in her lap. She’s unsteady, of course, because revivification is a brutal process at the best of times, but her eyes are clear. That hideous blankness is gone from them and they’re full again with the light that drew Karlach to her first. “Shhh.” She cups Karlach’s face gently with both hands and kisses her. “It’s all right… I promise. I’m here. All limbs attached, everything accounted for. And heart very much beating.”

Karlach gives her a watery smile, tries and fails to quiet her choked breathing into something manageable. “I just-- I saw you there… like that… and I suddenly realized… how much shit has gone wrong in my life… how it all changes so fast… but you’ve been good… you’ve been so fucking good, Tav…”

“I’m here. I’m here…” Tav presses her forehead to Karlach’s and draws a slow, shaky breath. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I promise…”

Slowly Karlach begins to settle again, feeling the gentle brush of Tav’s breath on her lips. It’s not over. “You’d better not,” she mumbles.

She realizes suddenly that they’re alone. Shadowheart has taken one of the torches and bodily dragged Astarion off some distance away, leaving them more or less in private. Karlach’s grateful for that; she’s not sure she could handle Astarion’s acerbic wit right at this moment.

“Fuck,” she whispers after a short pause, a little more calmly now. “Sorry, I--”

“Hey. Don’t you ever apologize for anything,” Tav says softly. “Least of all for loving me. You don’t get to say sorry for that.” She kisses Karlach again gently. “You ready to get Shadowheart to clean up that cut?”

“I… yeah. Yeah.” But it takes her a moment to loosen her arms and let Tav out of her embrace. “I do love you,” she says quietly. “So much. And I just got scared as shit about it.”

Tav smiles. “Best kind of scared I know,” she says. 

[gottagho-st]

kissy prompt 32 withhhh lus and phantom 👀🤗

EEE okay here goes <3 definitely got longer than i intended but i hope you like it 🥹 they’re v precious to meeeeee

also if there’s any mistakes - no there’s not (i didn’t proofread this so my bad)

32. a kiss to wake up

slight cw: scars/mention of scars, but other than that it’s pretty much just fluffy morning ghouls :))

under the cut cause of length 🫶✨🦇

The warm caress of the morning sun flooding into her room was a gentle nudge awake, enough to tug her just towards consciousness, but not pull her entirely from the comforting haze of sleep. With a sigh, Cumulus rolled to her other side, attempting to tug the blankets further over her chest - but being met with resistance upon doing so. Her sleep-soaked brain took a moment to register that such a task would normally be done with ease, and once she realised her relaxed face scrunched into a slight frown. She tugs again, a little harder this time, and is met with the resistance once again. This time, though, it is accompanied by a grumpy ‘mrrrp’ from the ghoul curled into a ball on top of the blankets.

His hair is mussed from sleep, and his body continues to rise and fall in the gentle pattern of his breathing, a soft puff of air escaping from slightly parted lips on every exhale. Cumulus’ frown is wiped from her face the moment her eyes land on the pulsing lights across his lavender cheeks, replaced by a fond smile at her little bug who must have joined her for comfort during the night. He has an open invitation into her room whenever he likes, and she has always indicated that she’s happy for him to wake her - but clearly last night all he wanted was to be close.

Cumulus reaches a hand of manicured claws down to gently rake his hair away from his face, the disturbance causing him to shift - arms reaching out to stretch slightly and give her better access for head scratching. she leans in closer to nuzzle against him, soaking up some of his warmth, and starts a gentle purr. This is a perfect way to start her morning, if you ask her.

Phantom’s eyes remain close, still blissfully clingy to the thread of sleepiness, but he responds to her purr with a crackly attempt at his own. At this, Cumulus’ smile widens and she bends toward him to press a feather of a kiss onto his forehead. a quite chirp is her only response, so she continues - another kiss pressed against the scar slashing through his right eyebrow, again to the bridge of his nose. Mismatched eyes crack open to gaze up at her, and she continues with her worshipping lips, pressing devoted kisses to every scar and pulsing strike of lightning that dances across his cheeks. Her lips brush against the tip of his nose, and he tilts his head up in an attempt to get a proper kiss from her, whining when she just giggles and kisses his chin, and then along his jaw. Phantom squirms with impatience, making quiet but desperate noises to which Cumulus finally relents, pressing her full lips lovingly to his own, and holding for a breath. The kiss is short, but filled with her adoration and affection for her little Bug, and his purr amps up in response. He steals another kiss before she pulls away gently, still caressing the hair at the base of his neck.

“Goodmorning my little Lovebug” she whispers, and he giggles at the way her breath tickles his cheeks.

“‘mornin’ Lussy,” he smiles brightly up at her.

Yeah, this is certainly one of her favourite ways to wake up.

[rollercoasterwords]

ohhh i’ve been waiting for this one 🤭 r/s number 20 pls 🤭🫶

20. you’re in a car with a beautiful boy and you're trying not to tell him that you love him.

(i am so sorry in advance for this one lol)

"they asked me to be the godfather," sirius says, and remus grips the steering wheel like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to strangle.

"oh."

it all makes much more sense now. the whiskey. the cigarette ash on his breath. the bruise staining his neck. the undone buttons of his shirt.

just once--just once--remus wishes james knew when to keep his mouth shut. doesn't understand how he could spend half his life with the brightest star in the sky and still not see how it shines. this is the wedding all over again, sirius drinking himself half to death over a stupid speech and still scraping himself out of the gutter to be james' best man.

always james' best man.

sometimes, remus honestly doesn't know which one of them he hates more.

"gonna be sick," sirius mumbles, face all smashed against the window, "rem--gonna--"

"okay, okay, hang on--"

the road's empty, but remus pulls all the way over anyway, leaves the engine running and the headlights on while he jumps out, circles the front, gets the door open just in time for vomit to splatter onto the dirt. it flecks his shoes, the cuffs of his jeans. remus sighs. remus tucks the hair away from sirius' face, and hates himself for the horrible way his heart twists at every point of contact between his fingertips and the other boy's skin. he keeps telling himself that one day it won't matter. he keeps telling himself that one day he'll feel less.

he wonders how many years sirius has been telling himself the exact same thing.

"fuck," sirius groans, and remus asks where are you going and sirius says need t'lie down and remus says wait, just--wait and he's got an arm around sirius' waist, he's guiding him away from the vomit, he is keeping at least one of them un-stained. sirius is stumbling back, trying to heave himself into the bed of the truck. remus helps. remus follows him. he always does.

there's still an old blanket, crumpled in the corner. sirius doesn't seem to notice when remus lays it out, but he does it anyway, guiding the other boy onto something more forgiving than cold metal. they lie side by side, staring at stars. from this angle, remus can't see the bruise on sirius' neck. he can almost pretend it's not there, or at least that he doesn't know how he got it. sirius will bury himself in the body of anyone willing to be his grave, and they all know that, even james.

james just hasn't managed to figure out that he's the shovel.

"no moon tonight," sirius mumbles. remus touches him again, moves a lock of hair from his eyes.

"no."

he lets his fingertips linger, just a second. in the morning, sirius won't remember this anyway.

"got you, though," sirius says, and it comes out half-sigh, "moony. always got you."

"yeah," remus whispers, "you've always got me."

sirius turns to look at him, and even with eyes all liquor-glazed and blinking it's the sort of look that pins him, a butterfly to a board.

"did you ever love someone, remus?" sirius asks.

you idiot, remus doesn't say, you beautiful, impossible idiot.

maybe one day, he'll crash the truck, just so they can both feel the same thing at the same time.

from this prompt list!

[mrfelixfischoeder]

12 Tina and Jimmy Jr

12- Write about your ship going somewhere new together for the first time.

YEAH BOBS BURGERS

Tina is lagging being a little. Jimmy stops to look over his shoulder. "Tina, you're falling behind, again."

“Uuuhhh, sorry.” She catches up with a little trot, clinging to the straps of her backpack. Now that they are in high school, they have a few more freedoms than their siblings. Like walking home together, for a start. Usually Zeke is with them (which Tina has learned to accept a t this point), but he’s at wrestling practice on Tuesdays. So, they’re alone. Not unusual. But it still makes her palms sweaty.

“They’ll close by the time we get there if you keep thtopping,” Jimmy jr nudges her to indicate it’s a joke, smiling, “You’re so nervouth.”

“No, well, I mean,” she’s been trying not to lie to Jimmy so much about her feelings – if he can’t take her at her sixteen year old best when her lies are just little and white like where his socks go, how is he going to handle everything else? “I just don’t think we should be doing this.”

“It wath your idea!”

“Well I changed my mind!!”

They turn the corner, and they see their destination. The new burger place in town. Meet Mick’s Meat. Dad didn’t seem impressed by the name, and Tina could only vaguely understand why. She thinks it has a fun flair to it. “But we’re so clothe!” Jimmy takes her wrist, making sure she keeps walking, “Why don’t we treat it like a thpy thing? For your dad!”

“O-okay,” Tina likes that idea. It makes her shoulders untense and she walks in pace with Jimmy, and his grip loosens when he knows she isn’t a flight risk – his fingers slide down her palm, sticking a little, before intertwining with hers. She tenses again.

“Thee if it’s any good, which it won’t be obviouthly, and maybe leave a bad review on their thite.”

“But they could lose business!” Tina’s heart races at the thought of messing with anyone’s business, mostly because she’s seen what Jimmy’s dad can do to her dad on his worst days. But then she remembers these guys are actual direct competitors with her dad. Suddenly they’re at the door, and Jimmy takes advantage of Tina’s inability to back out of situations that usually involve himself – he opens the door for her. She looks at him, then inside (where there are people and the floors are clean and the waitress looks like she’s over eighteen. Wow, where did he find these people?)

“C’mooon,” Jimmy whispers, pulling her in, “I gotcha.” he doesn’t realise just how comforting that is for her, as they’re led to a booth with leather that doesn’t stick to her legs.

“Their burger of the day ithn’t even a pun. Pathetic.” Jimmy whispers with a cackle, and Tina smiles at him. Her shoulders relax again.

[gregoftom]

Any domestic tomgreg headcanons ??

domestic tomgreg my LIFE omg okay so;

when it comes to cooking, with greg; awful at it. terrible. but tries anyway. this video i think is like, perfectly greg attempting cooking for tom JDSKJDS. with tom; great cook we been knew. loves to cook for him and greg and it's always delicious. sometimes. Sometimes he'll let greg help, as in pass me that spice, taste this for me how is it, does it need anything? gradually he lets greg maybe chop an onion or something, but greg is clumsy and cuts himself easily, so it's a rare occurrence, tho when it Does happen tom will immediately turn off the heat/stop activity of cooking to suck greg's finger until the blood stops and greg is mesmerised and they get all horny and shit bc they are Not Normal about one another. obv the trope of 'fucking while the pie cooks' applies to them too.

greg is more often the little spoon when it comes to sleeping/cuddling [i base this somewhat on the fact that twice we see when greg is trying to sleep in the church and on that plane i Think to the hunting trip, he wraps his own arm around himself for self comfort]. he loves loves loves to have tom's strong warm arms around him, it makes him feel safe and it helps him sleep. occasionally they will swap when they turn in the middle of the night. greg is an ass against ya crotch titty in ya hand kinda guy. that's the placement he'll always end up in if he's spooning tom lmfao.

they will always bathe/shower together unless like, there's a very good reason not to lol. pretty much every time they'll just get in together, but if for some reason they wanna take turns, greg will just be pacing ranting all the goss and peeping every so often as tom suds his tits lol [and who could blame him!!!] then tom will get out and greg will do his usual stare trying not to jump him bc hhhhhhhhhh and try to hide his half chub, stumbling towards the shower/bath and getting in and tom is just observing him with a raised brow, enjoying the view, maybe aiming a smack at the ass if he can get one in and appreciating the squeak it gets, even though greg really should see it coming by now. tom will literally just Watch greg with a towel around his waist and sometimes greg miiight put on a bit of a show but they'd get a bit silly with it, greg humming the strip song and doing a silly dance and getting a grin from tom but it's sexy too like ugh. they're still best friends. sigh.

sometimes they will just read together in their leisure time, or greg will go on his phone, or fall asleep with his head in tom's lap being petted by tom's free hand. comfortable silences abound.