#and its a bit of a mess but i need to chill on these prompts so i pushed myself to finish and post lol

[bluerosefox]

Stellar Dynamics

You know what.

ANOTHER DPxDC idea (as if I write prompts for anything else lol ✍(◔◡◔)

And once again, I think I might have a hyperfixation rn, another deaged Dani (Ellie) and Dan (Dante)! and Dad!Danny.

And you know what, lets make it another DannyxConner idea.

Danny is on a field trip with his class (NOT in Gotham though, LOVE Gotham but lets go with a different city) in like Central City or Metropolis (If Metropolis, Danny is SUPER excited to see the space sections they have at the museum they no doubt have, because well SUPERMAN is an alien and based in their city. If in Central City Conner is visiting Bart.)

During the trip he bumps into Conner and the two just hit it off. Conner enjoys listening to Danny rant about space and the stars and finds watching Danny's eyes light up in joy kinda cute. And if he got his new hero name Supernova from listening to Danny's rants about the stars well... no one needs to know how he got it.

Danny likes how chill Conner is and how the guy stood against Dash and the other jocks when Dash decided he wanted to mess with Danny during the trip, a rare thing nowadays but sometimes Dash does try, and how he respects/likes Danny's friends.

He didn't even say anything negative or hurtful when he found out Danny has two kids back home.

In the end the two exchange numbers, flirt hard, and maybe set up a date in the future. And then more dates. Becoming boyfriends. AND meeting the family. Conner is smitten with just out of toddlerhood Ellie and toddler Dante and adores them. And he loves how the Fentons just love him the moment he stepped into their house and was introduced as Danny's boyfriend, he made sure to bring over a pie Ma should him how to make.

Things get a bit complicated when Conner, Supernova, is at a reunion of YJ members and his phone lights up with a text message from Danny.

He's smiling with a goofy/soft look when he opens the text and see's its a picture of Danny holding a pouting toddler Dante and Ellie on his lap smiling with a notable gap in her teeth at the camera. The message he got was 'Ellie wanted you to know she finally lost her first baby tooth. Dan's been grumpier, I think he misses you.'

He is pulled out of his happy thoughts and musings when he hears Bart gasp hard and drop a bowl of snacks onto the floor. Conner turns to from the future Speedster and see's him about to have a panic attack.

Bart, Impulse, is having a freak out after catching a glimpse of the text picture Conner had gotten and being nosy wanted to know what got his friend to smile so smitten. He knew of Conner's current boyfriend and the kids Conner adores but haven't had time to be introduced to them or even see a pic.

He wasn't expecting to see the very MONSTER of his NIGHTMARES that basically destroyed the world in the FUTURE as a toddler pouting at a camera and surrounded by two smiling identical looking people either. People he never saw in the future or with HIM AND-

Oh.... OH!

Was that why he turned evil? Did something happen to his family?

[o-sachi]

Training Camp ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars. (Request)

ଳ female football team enters blue lock for a joint training camp! ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishirou, reo mikage, rin itoshi, barou shoei, chigiri hyoma, shidou ryusei, kunigami rensuke ଳ tags; sfw, afab reader, no y/n

[🐟]: This took me such a long time because I found the prompt a bit hard tbh...

— With the rising popularity of blue lock and its potential for monetization, a local famous women's team was invited for a joint training camp. How would the chosen 11 react?

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

The poor guy was so nervous at first. It only got worse when the other guys started joking about how "he should chill out" and that "he shouldn't scare the girls with his personality on the field."

He was so conscious in the first match that he kept messing up. Ego immediately noticed he was off his game. Of course, the cunning founder of Blue Lock knew why. But Isagi was benched anyway.

Isagi couldn't contain his frustrations and brewed in the bench while waiting for another chance to get back in.

Once he does get back in... he doesn't show mercy anymore. His familiar cutthroat personality resurfaces. He glares at you and tells you to get out of his way.

You were shocked, to say the least. But you kept playing anyway. Best believe that he approached you right after that game and apologized profusely for his behavior.

"I'm so so so so so sorry. I don't know what came over me." / "It's alright. I understa—please don't start kneeling...."

ᯓ Bachira Meguru

He's just happy to see some new faces at the joint training camp. He'd happily greet your team, shake hands with all of you, and would even offer to show you around the facility.

You were the only one who accepted his offer of a tour. He does show you around but... somehow he gets lost too. He laughs it off and decides to amuse you with his stories inside the facility instead.

His enthusiasm and friendliness gets you to lower your guard, thinking that you'd manage against him in a match.

"Hey, hey, go easy on us in the first match, alrighty?"

However... you quickly realize that you were bamboozled. All it took was one dribble past you and you were left in awe at his skils. Bachira made it look way too easy.

He noticed your expression in the game—how amazed you were with his dribbling and passing. So, he offered to teach you personally at night in one of the empty training rooms.

ᯓ Nagi Seishirou

Of course, he thinks that the joint training camp was a major hassle. That meant he'd be playing in more games. He was especially disgruntled when the coach of your team kindly requested if he could give some tips on trapping the ball.

He tries his best to teach, but to no avail. Nagi would stand there awkwardly and play around with ball without explaining anything.

"You just have to go swoosh, then the ball should go oop. That's how you trap." / "Um... how do you do the swoosh exactly?"

Yes, he's the type to use sound effects as if that helps you learn any of the things he is doing.

You see the annoyance on his face as your coach keeps pestering him to explain it better, so you intervene. You explain that it's more than enough for your team to see it in person. All that's left is for your team to practice it. Nagi never looked so relieved in his life.

You stay true to your promise and practice whatever that swoosh he was talking about. Eventually, you get the hang of it and Nagi was the first person you ran to. He gives you a thumbs up of approval.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

It was the Mikage corporation that sponsored this joint training camp. You knew because of the big bold letters that say "MIKAGE" written on the front of your new uniforms.

Being the grateful person that you are, you approach him on one of your off times and thank him for the sponsorship. He waves it off and tells you its his pleasure to have such a lovely team play with them.

"Hey, no need to thank me. I'm just looking forward to have a match with you."

He's actually one of the few people who's enthusiastic about sharing his football knowledge. Unlike Nagi, he can explain himself articulately.

He's so patient with you and your team even though he's like leagues better than all of you. Reo also makes an effort to befriend you—truly fulfilling the spirit of a training camp.

Reo encourages the other guys to do the same, but...

ᯓ Rin Itoshi

Rin was NOT amused by the idea of a joint training camp. He saw no point in fraternizing with a team that wouldn't bring him closer to defeating his brother.

Your whole team was intimidated by him. The way he glared at all of you and especially your coach was all too menacing.

When the joint training camp episode aired live on BL TV, Rin's behavior got mixed reactions.

"Rin should be nicer to the female team. They're also there to do their best." // "Omg Rin is so mean. He can step on me instead."

He had low expectations the first time he went up against your team. But you wanted to prove him wrong even by a little bit. So even if he didn't go easy on any of you—you tried to keep up with him through sheer determination and hope.

A tiny part of him was impressed that at least one person in your team didn't lose spirit and tried to keep up with him. He respects you a little more than the others, but would NEVER admit it in his life.

ᯓ Barou Shoei

He wasn't excited by the idea either. If he had a choice, he'd rather continue training as usual. Buttttt, he's stuck with the training camp no matter what, so he decides to just suck it up for the meantime.

Despite that, he was still observant as always. He could easily pick up the gaps in your strategy, your individual flaws, and so on. Even you could tell that he was the analytical type.

Obviously, you had to approach him. You sheepishly asked him about your points of improvement and how to get better. Oh boy... he breathes in deeply, preparing for the onslaught of mental notes he kept about your gameplay.

"Listen carefully. I won't repeat myself, okay?"

Your jaw was on the floor once he was done. There were things you were already aware of, but he listed so many other things that you were starting to doubt if football was for you.

He notices your downcast expression and sighs again. He tells you that with enough practice, you'll correct most of your flaws.

Somehow, you remind him of his little sisters. Big bro Barou mode activates and suddenly he's giving you some rigorous training in your off time.

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma

Your team was excited to learn about football, but when your eyes were graced by his presence—you were awestruck with how beautiful his hair was. So now it was learning football and haircare.

You were a bit shy to ask him about his hair because you were there for football after all. But, to your surprise, he seemed quite happy that someone asked.

Chigiri was charming without trying. There were plenty of times you had to snap out of your thoughts because he was just too dreamyyyy.

To be fair, he also taught you a bit about his football knowledge. However, he mostly gave you tips on how to get faster; that was his specialty anyway.

While everyone else was engaging in some routine nighttime training, you and Chigiri were fussing over hair routine and products.

"You should let your hair down more. It looks nice on you." / "Yeah... that's a bit impossible when playing and training most of the time." / "Eh? I do it just fine though?"

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei

He was looking forward to the joint training camp... you could tell that much with how he greeted your team with the most menacing smile ever.

Unbeknownst to you, the boys were encouraged to give you some encouraging words. It was mostly for the ratings on BL TV, but it was necessary all the same. The thing is... you couldn't tell if he was encouraging you or threatening you...

Shidou did not hold back at all when your team first went against them. He wasn't scared of accidentally tackling any of you with his bigger build.

Maybe he got cocky or maybe it was a pure stroke of luck, but you managed to stop one of his goals. Time seemed to stop as his eyes narrowed in on you.

"Hey, you. Yeah, you. You'll keep me entertained while you're here, won't you?" / "Uhhhhhhh......"

He became so clingy with you after that game—following you, annoying you, and trying to get you to notice him. It wasn't his fault that you chose to stand out among the others, right?

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[elixirfromthestars]

Dancing Embers

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader

Summary: A cozy cabin, the love of your life, and the warmth of a fire. What more could you ask for on a cold winter night?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. slight insinuation at the end. female reader.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> a crackling fire sets the mood

a/n: This piece is written as a standalone. However, I will link below the pairing this fic is based on in case you want to read more of them. For context, this timeline is one where Bucky made it back from the war safe and sound and is enjoying his life now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

how their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

The hum of the radio travels through the air and finds its way into the kitchen where you’re placing tonight’s dinner in the oven. A puff of hot air caresses your face as you close the oven door, the casserole dish cocooned inside by a blazing heat. You pick up the small timer from the counter and twist the dial, setting it for thirty minutes. 

Now, you have to find something to do to pass the time…

You look around the unfamiliar kitchen, its rustic woodsy furnishing a cozy contrast to the one in your apartment in the city. A smile makes its way to your face as you recall how Bucky surprised you with this weekend getaway. It was after you came home from a shift at the children’s clinic—exhaustion heavy in your bones. An exhaustion he eased with a homecooked meal and a plethora of loving kisses. All leading up to the surprise of a weekend trip just for the two of you, presented to you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a handwritten note.

You started packing right away after that. 

While still ruminating on the joy of the memory, you begin to tidy up the mess in the kitchen—the one left from your dinner preparations. There wasn’t much to clean up—bits of leftover ingredients here and a few prep dishes there—but at least it gives you something to do while the timer counts down in the background. 

Out of the blue, a frosty air embraces you from behind. You let out a small squeal as the arms that usually radiate warmth are bitterly cold against your skin. A sharp intake of breath escaping you at the contact.

“Bucky, you’re freezing!” you say with concern and caught off guard by the piercing chill of his hands. How long had he been out in the cold? 

“Not anymore,” he mutters a response as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his icy lips pressing kisses into your skin. A shiver goes down your spine as the frost on his lips melts away into a heat that you’re used to. 

You twist in his arms to face him, pulling him even closer by his wool jacket to kiss the tip of his reddened nose, hoping to bring warmth back to it. Bucky grins at you with a gentle adoration, even more so when you brush off the remnants of winter from his hair and shoulders. His eyes take in your every feature like he wants to commit this moment to memory. 

When it comes to you, he always does. There’s never been a moment with you he doesn’t hold dear in his heart. His time at war taught him to treasure every second he gets with those he loves most. And of course, as the love of his life, that includes you. 

“I’m going to need more than that to warm up, doll,” he claims playfully, before connecting his lips to yours, pulling you flush against him by your waist. Your arms eagerly wrap around his shoulders, melting into him faster than the snow on his body does. The kiss is sweet, yet profound as if the hour spent apart had been entirely too long for the both of you. 

When the kiss has restricted enough air from your lungs, you both pull away only slightly and out of breath, smiling from ear to ear. You collect yourself enough to say, “Dinner should be ready soon.” Bucky, however, has his attention elsewhere as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and then your lips once more. 

“Sounds. Good. Doll,” he mumbles the words between kisses that leave you in a fit of giggles. A sound that almost drowns out the grumbling of his stomach. 

“Someone’s hungry.”

“Mm, chopping lumber will do that to you.”

“Chopping lumber?”

“For the fireplace. I should probably go and get it started.”

Bucky lets out an exaggerated sigh, not entirely keen on going back out into the cold night. He presses a tender kiss to the top of your head before reluctantly detaching his arms from your waist as he heads back outside. He spends the next few minutes hauling in pieces of wood into the living room where he tends to the fireplace. Meanwhile, you get the dining table ready for your dinner for two. 

As you are on the brink of finishing setting up, you notice the radio gets louder—a slow song replacing the previous hum. It’s not long before Bucky comes back into the kitchen, however, this time he’s swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as his hands outstretch to beckon you to him. 

“Dance with me,” he says, taking hold of your hands and placing them on his shoulders. You laugh softly, looking at him with fond mirth. “Maybe later, sweetheart. Dinner’s almost ready,” you mention, glancing at the mechanical timer that would go off in a few minutes.

Bucky shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down from his shoulders, but before they can go anywhere, he swiftly intertwines them with his own. He uses this small leverage to begin coaxing you out of the kitchen and into the living room with gentle tugs. “Dinner can wait, doll. I want to dance with my best girl first,” he replies, his expression full of pleading affection. 

You can never say no when he looks at you like that. 

You throw the image of the timer to the back of your head and follow Bucky into the center of the living room. To your right, the fireplace crackles beautifully with bright embers, cascading the room in an amber glow. To your left, the coffee table, handcrafted in oak, is pushed up against the sofa, giving you enough space by the fireplace to dance. 

Bucky’s hands find purchase at your waist as he anchors you closer. Your hands settle against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Soon your hips and his gradually sway in sync, letting the melody of the song guide you. 

You hold each other close for what seems like a lifetime, the heat of the fire amplifying the warmth that radiates between you. Its flames flicker alongside you as if slow dancing themselves. The serenity of the moment forever engraves itself into your heart. 

“I love you, Y/n. I can’t wait for the rest of our lives to start,” Bucky’s voice is full of devotion, bringing your left hand up to his lips to kiss the spot right where your engagement ring is. You look at him as if he hung the moon for you, “I love you too, Bucky. Forever can’t come soon enough.” Your hands snake up to wrap behind his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss, the kind that consumes as quickly as a spark catches fire. However, before the intensity can reach a boiling point, a loud ringing suddenly breaks it. The timer in the kitchen signaling whatever desires were igniting would have to be put on pause until after dinner. 

“Dinners ready,” neither of you are ready to break apart when you whisper this. A beat passes and Bucky lifts your chin gently with his finger, so your gaze locks with his adoring one.

“One more kiss.”

“The casserole is going to burn.” 

“Just one more?”

There he goes again with that pleading expression you can’t resist. 

“You know it won’t be just one more, James Buchanan Barnes,” you point out and he lets out a hearty chuckle. 

“You know me so well Mrs.Barnes-to-be.” 

He kisses you again anyway—short and sweet—leaving you with a promise for more to hold onto. Your laughter mixes with his as you lead him back to the kitchen. He hugs you from behind one last time as he whispers an enticing promise into your ear. 

“After dinner, I’m having you for dessert.” 

[astarioffsimpmain]

Cushioned Affections

Gale x Astarion x F!Tav

Warnings: Poly relationship discussion; insecurity; mention of past relationship abuse

Synopsis: Tav is tired of waiting for Astarion to make his move, so she allows Gale to make his first. But will that put an end to her and her favorite vampire spawn?

Author's Note: I'm a day late, I know, but this fic is for the BG3 Holiday Fluffle 2023, hosted by @justporo with the prompt "Getting Cozy"!

The chill that had settled over many of your nights in the last few months was slowly creeping its way into your days, infiltrating you and your motley crew through brisk winds that could cut through any armor and lay clothes, chilling you all to your very bones. The campfire became the favorite place of every one of your traveling companions - even Astarion, who usually preferred to observe the group’s frivolities from the entrance of his tent. But this evening, the aloof vampire had firmly wedged himself between you and your resident wizard, Gale, on one of the logs in front of the roaring flames. 

“There’s a perfectly clear spot next to Lae’zel, you know.” Gale mumbled, clearly unhappy with the current seating arrangements. 

“That seat could get me decapitated and I personally prefer to keep such beauty soundly attached, thank you very much.” Astarion replied haughtily, turning his nose up at the wizard’s suggestion before scooting closer to you, affronted. 

“Rightly assumed, spawn.” Lae’zel spat, not so much as glancing up from her soup bowl.

“Hah!” Astarion exclaimed triumphantly, sending a taunting expression Gale’s way as he wrapped his shawl tighter around his already cold body. 

“Well, I’m very glad you’ve joined us tonight, Stari.” you said, opening your arm to him and allowing him to snuggle close, a relieved sigh escaping his lips as your warmth enveloped him. “And Gale, thank you so much for the wonderful meal. I always forget I'm sleeping on the ground when you fix your soup.” 

The compliment settled in Gale’s cheeks as they tinged pink and a smile graced his lips for the first time since Astarion had forced the two of you apart. “Why thank you, Tav.” he sent a charming smile your way over the mess of white curls between you. “You flatter me too much.” 

“Yes, she does.” Lae’zel replied curtly, although she made no effort to hide her empty bowl. 

“Nah, this shit’s awesome, Gale.” Karlach piped up, already filling up her bowl for the third time. “Anybody need a warm-up?” 

“Me, if you would, Karlach.” Shadowheart passed her bowl across the fire to the tiefling, who grabbed it enthusiastically and held it between her palms as the flames beneath her skin crackled and popped to life for a few seconds before simmering down again. The contents of the bowl were now steaming as Karlach passed it back over to Shadowheart, who let out a pleased groan when the warmth hit her fingertips. 

“Thank you all.” Gale said, a pleased smile on his lips. “I’m glad I could deliver a measure of culinary satisfaction to our treacherously meager living accommodations.” 

“Darling, just say “thank you for the dick-stroking” and be done with it.” Astarion drawled, his eyes having lazily fallen closed once your fingers had wound their way into his hair. 

“I’ll have you know,” Gale’s voice rose as he spoke over Karlach and Shadowheart who had burst out laughing., “My honed verbosity is one of the most prevalent things that earned me a place as one of the most well-respected voices of wisdom in Waterdeep, and beyond.” 

“Oh yes, it was your tongue; of that I’m certain.” Astarion murmured, half asleep, and you bit down on the inside of your lip to keep the giggle from escaping as Karlach and Shadowheart descended into fits of cackling once again, while Lae’zel allowed the ghost of a smile to cross her lips. You even noticed Wyll choking back a chuckle over his soup. 

Gale shook his head disapprovingly, and you thought things may have gone too far until an amused smile crept across the wizard’s face and he shot you a quick glance with mirth dancing in his eyes. You smiled back at him, the chill of the evening all but melted away in the presence of your unlikely group of friends. 

After the fire had long since died, and many of your companions had retired to their own bedrolls in the shelter of their tents, you helped Gale clean up around the campfire, stacking bowls in on each other - deciding to wait for the warmth of the sun before taking them to the river to wash them out - and gathering the extra blankets to hoard for personal use. 

Astarion sat idly by, book in hand, while you both worked, only looking up from the pages and stretching languidly when you paused in front of him. “Well, darling, are you ready to hide away and curl up in our own little cocoon for the evening?” he cooed, batting his long eyelashes at you demurely. 

“Come on, Astarion, just say you’re desperate for a cuddle and be done with it.” Gale appeared over your shoulder smiling, pleased to have been given the chance to throw the words back in the vampire’s face. 

“Actually,” you stepped in front of Gale and swatted at him playfully. “Gale’s got a new volume of that Dark Elf tales I’ve been reading as of late, and he wanted to read a few chapters with me before we went our separate ways. Would you like to join us? I know how much you enjoy those stories.”

Astarion chortled dismissively, rolling his eyes. “I think I’d prefer freezing to death than getting anywhere near the “wizard of Waterdeep”’s personal stash.” 

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders and turning away. “Your choice. I’ll see you back in my tent afterwards either way. Although,” you pause, flipping your hair over your shoulder to match his dramatics. “It will be much warmer in Gale’s tent because we currently have all of the extra blankets. I do hope you’ll reconsider.” you teased, mimicking the vampire’s tonal lilt as you hoisted a few of the remaining blankets over your shoulder and walked off. In a few long strides, you caught up with Gale, who was struggling with his own bundle of blankets. 

“Do you think he’ll drop by?” his voice came out muffled, his face fully blocked from your vision by a mountain of fluff.

A giggle bubbled out of you, and you patted some of the blankets away from his eyes. A muffled “thank you” reached your ears. “I don’t know, but I hope so. I do wish he didn’t keep to himself so often; he shouldn’t be alone. But he has to choose to let in the warmth himself - and not just mine.” Gale nodded quietly - a rare occurrence - and led the way to his tent. 

You were ceaselessly amazed by the sheer number of books Gale Dekarios was able to keep with him; shelves upon shelves lined with volumes - everything from A Comprehensive History of Waterdeep to The Practicality of Learning the Weave and more - just waiting to dazzle you with the wonders inside. However, the books that caught your eye were front and center, at a perfect height for you - done intentionally, you had no doubt - was the Dark Elf trilogy, finally completed with a stunning hardback edition of Sojourn with a beautifully crafted image of the drow himself gracing the book jacket. 

“Gods, Gale, wherever did you find it?” you murmured softly, stroking the spine tenderly. 

"Ah, a wizard never reveals his secrets. But let’s just say, I do still have some influence in some of the cities we’ve passed through thus far, and was able to get my hands on a nice copy, just for you."

You clutched the book to your chest, beaming up at him from where you stood. "Thank you, Gale. Shall we read?" His heart skipped a beat, he thought, as he nodded and sat down amidst his pile of pillows and blankets and you settled in between his legs, your back pressing warmly against his chest as his arms wrapped around your front before his mind could even catch up with him. 

“Are- are you sure you and Astarion are just friends?” the words slipped from his lips and he cringed at himself, a large part of him fearing the question would bring you to your senses and he’d lose this intimate connection he’d found with you.

“No, I’m not.” you admitted softly and his heart dropped into his stomach, his arms wrapping tighter around you in anticipation of the loss. “But I’ve told him that I have feelings for you too, and I’ve told him that while I’m patient enough to wait for him, he needs to tell me to wait for him before I will. I’ve…” you paused, sniffling a little as the emotions welled up inside of you. “I’ve had my heart broken a lot by being led on, or by waiting for people who, in the end, chose someone else; someone more-” 

“Hey, shhh don’t do that.” Gale whispered in your ear, planting a chaste kiss there and squeezing you tight. “You’re plenty enough as you are, alright?” You nodded, breathing deep before continuing.

“I told him how much I care for him, and how much I’d like to have more with him. But I was also honest and told him how much I care for you, so I’ll tell you what I told him. If you need time, tell me to wait for you. Hopefully you’ll listen.” you mumbled the last part so softly that Gale could have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. But your words, your touch, your presence was his whole world right now, and he couldn’t possibly miss the sadness and longing left hanging in the air once you fell quiet. 

“Well… I hope he’ll come around soon. But in the meantime, I don’t need to wait. I know my answer right now.” he murmured against your ear, reveling in the shudder that traveled the length of your spine in his hold. You turned your head just enough to lock your penetrating gaze with his, waiting for him to say the words. You wouldn’t settle for interpretations; not any longer. “I care for you, greatly, Tav. And if you find it in that beautiful heart of yours to save a place for me, I’d gladly reside there for the rest of my days.” 

“Gale,” you whispered, your eyes clouding over with unshed tears of relief that flooded you like a sudden storm. He caught the emotions with his lips on yours, alleviating some of the weight of the emotional burdens that you had carried with you for all too long, and a sob escaped into his mouth. He swallowed the pain and lapped it up with his eager tongue, desperate to comfort your aching soul as his hands explored your body. You moaned softly into the kiss before pulling away, a little giggle leaving your lips as you nuzzled into his neck. You bit your bottom lip, your smile threatening to overtake the rest of your face as Gale's hands ran the lengths of your arms and back. "We're supposed to be reading." You chuckled, and Gale’s own laughter rumbled through your body in response. 

"Then let us read, my sweet." He pressed a kiss to your temple and plucked the book from your hands, opening it to the first page before conjuring a few mage hands to do the rest while he wound his arms tightly back around you and began to read aloud. 

You had enjoyed several chapters of the book together when a shadow moving outside caught your attention. You silenced Gale with a hand held in the air, your body tensing as you reached for your sword. 

"Uhm… hello?"

The soft, tentative voice coming through the flap had your muscles relaxing immediately. "Astarion," you exhaled in relief and pulled the tent flap open. He stood there in little more than his ruffled undershirt and pants, shivering ever so slightly from the cold; his eyes a catastrophic blend of hope, fear, and vulnerability as they locked onto you. "Oh gods, Stari, come in here, you're freezing!" You fussed worriedly, opening your arms to him like you so often did, and you didn't miss the sudden ease of his sharp facial features as he gave in to your embrace, pulled to it like a moth to a flame, and settled into your arms like he belonged there. He did belong there. 

You walked backwards, enough to seal the tent flap behind the elf, before your fingers found his curls as they always did, and he sighed happily as you scratched his scalp. He nuzzled closer to you, his icy cold nose finding a home in the nape of your neck as you calmed him. "I'm so glad you came." You mumbled into his hair and he merely hummed in response, pulling you flush against him and trailing his hands up and down your spine. After several quiet moments of quiet repose in each other's arms, you pulled back enough to look Astarion in the eyes. 

"I-" He spluttered, his gaze flicking to Gale then back to you. "I really wanted to get a look at this book of yours, Gale. As Tav said, I enjoy the dark drow stories myself." He brushed some wrinkles out of his white shirt awkwardly and you took the opportunity to shoot Gale a deadly glare. Play along, it said. Or else.

"Of course." Gale chirped, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Well, it truly is a beauty, isn't it Tav?"

"Definitely." You smiled in silent thanks and reached for Astarion's hand, pressing the pad of a finger into one of his and allowing him to do the rest. "Come on. We're on chapter 5, but I'll give you a summary of what's happened so far." You sat down beside Gale, and Astarion beside you, and you launched into the details of what Astarion had missed in the first five chapters, forgetting the world around you and all of its present dangers: the tadpoles, the mindflayers, the Absolute, all of it, and diving into the adventure yet again. Gale glanced over at the new visitor in his tent, initially with dubiosity; he'd had no intention of sharing you if that's what it came down to. However, his resolve wavered ever so slightly once he took in the vampire’s face as he looked at you. Gale didn't know Astarion could even look like that: his features softened, the harsh lines and wrinkles missing from his pale face, and his eyes wide with wonder and- Gale paused, realization slamming into him at full force as the vermillion glint of the vampire's eyes in the candlelight revealed his secrets. Gale recognized that look. It was the same look he had in his eyes when he looked at you. 

Love. 

And as he watched, Gale saw the same look in your eyes, no matter which man they were trained upon. "Godsdamn it." He thought. "What in the hells am I going to do?" 

"That's all that's happened so far." You clapped your hands together as you finished catching Astarion up. "Shall we continue?" You turned your head to Gale who said nothing, only nodded and prepared to cast another set of Mage Hands. 

"W-wait, for a moment." Astarion stopped him hesitantly. "I'd- well, I'd like to say something first, Tav." 

"Oh, of course." You looked back at him, your eyes wide and curious. 

"I've been thinking about this for awhile, but I never really knew how to put it into words. However, I- ugh this is so ridiculously awkward with the wizard here too." He buried his face in his hands. 

"I can leave for a moment if you-"

"Gods. No, it involves you, sit down." Astarion huffed, waving his hand in Gale's direction. 

"Very well." Gale remained as he was, perched precariously on a pillow, his full attention on the vampire spawn. 

"I've realized lately that, that I've never had someone who cares for me before - not that I can remember, anyway. And no one that could possibly measure up to you." He said the words to your fingers, which he had wrapped up in his own and was fiddling with tenderly in his lap. "I don't want to lose you, but I didn’t know how to tell you so, even when you told me how. It didn't feel quite right, it didn't fit. But I can say it now." He tilted his head up and met your eyes steadily. "I care for you, Tav. I- I need time to process whatever this is between us. But I don't want you to think I don't want you, because I do. And, if that package comes with a certain pompous wizard," he leveled Gale with a humored smirk. "Then I believe I could be alright with that arrangement. As long as he plays by the same rules we do, that is." 

Gale shot you a quizzical look. "You have to be patient and respect all of his boundaries." You explained, and Gale’s face fell into a sorrowful understanding. 

"Of course I would respect your wishes, Astarion. I may be the victim of some over-active hubris, a wildly inconvenient condition, and an intellect much larger than my single head can contain, but I am not a man without respect and understanding." 

"So… by all of that you mean yes." Astarion quipped and Gale chuckled. 

"Yes, Astarion, I mean yes." 

"Wait, hold on a moment." You sat up on your knees between them, looking back and forth at the two men you'd come to love so much, settling on the wizard. "Gale, are you saying you'd be alright with a 3 person relationship? I didn’t know that was something you'd ultimately agree to." 

"No definite answers yet. I'm working on it. Much like Astarion, the thought of being without you is slowly proving too much to bear. And perhaps having you around won't be too bad in the end, Astarion." 

"Oh thank you kindly for those inspiring compliments, Gale." Astarion rolled his eyes, but the growing smile on his lips told the truth of his thoughts on the matter, and you squeezed his hand with a sudden giddiness. 

"Anytime." Gale made a mock bow before sitting back down in the mess of pillows. "Now, are we going to read or shall I kick you both back out into the cold?" His mage hands appeared and he handed them the book. 

"You wouldn't!" You gasped playfully, scooting closer to him.

"Yes, yes, you're right, I wouldn't. Come here, both of you. If you're going to see the drawings you'd better get close." You resumed your place between Gale's legs and opened your arms to Astarion, who crawled in between yours and curled up against your chest like a cat, his head resting on your shoulder, glancing up at the book every now and again to admire the artwork, then planting tender kisses along your jawline before settling back into you. 

After several chapters more and an hour had gone by, Astarion purred softly against your chest while Gale rubbed your arm with one hand and Astarion's back with the other. Your hands were where they often found purchase - amidst soft white curls that were as light as air to your touch - , massaging small circles on the elf's head as he dozed, and you didn’t know how you could possibly be happier. You sighed blissfully, allowing your eyes to finally fall closed. 

"Goodnight Gale, goodnight Astarion." You mumbled, already halfway gone. 

"Goodnight, Tav." Gale whispered in your ear as you faded into a euphoric sleep, curled up between the men you loved; the men who loved you; the men who could possibly one day learn to love each other.

[pressureplus]

Ah hi there Author-San! Just saw your ask box open so I had to request this prompt which is bugging me forever

The reader is female, but looks exactly identical to Sebastian when he was human, hair, eyes, face, everything. Like identical twins, except for the gender change.

Like one fine day our foish guy is chilling in his shop waiting for the expendables when the reader comes through and open her helmet, causing Sebby to go through five stages of confusion like a washing machine.

Hi there, author here, and I LOVE this idea! Hope you don't mind me running a bit wild with it!

Reflection

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

You broke through the water, hands grasping the metal in front of you with a huff. A bit of a struggle to pull yourself up and into the room, but you managed anyway. Laying flat on your stomach for a moment to try and catch your breath. Any moment to spare that wasn't spent looking over your shoulder for an angler was a good one. You felt yourself begin to relax, but that didnt last long at all as the light in the room mysteriously flickered on. A more golden color than the other rooms you've been in, and higher too? You sit yourself up only to freeze, panic rushing through your veins like shards of ice. There, sitting taller than any of the previous creatures you've encountered, was what you could only describe as some kind of fish man. His fins flick back and forth as he tilts his head. A smile on his face as his upper set of hands clasp together.

“Welcome, welcome! Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you.” His voice is smooth and calm, an unfamiliar playfulness that you'd have never expected of a creature down here ringing through.

“Despite what you may have seen, heard, or been told. My name is Sebastian, your only friend.” You aren't particularly fond of the way he says only. Something about it makes your stomach churn and your anxiety build. You can't tell if that's to say he isn't really your friend, or if that's more to the effect of saying there's more things looking out for you down here. You don't like either option. You don't want anything watching over you, mostly because you don't trust it. You've only ever heard this name spoken by the higher ups in whispers, like he's the boogeyman or something. His voice on the intercom talking about the mess he's made of all the operatives sent down to dispose of him. Its a little hard not to be intimidated.

“There's no need to be so tense, I'm not going to bite. Look. You have data, lots of it. All that data you've been collecting doesn't really have a use to you, now does it? Now I have all sorts of things you might need, medkits, batteries, and the like.” He shifts his tail forward just a bit, allowing you to get a good look at his wares.

“For the price of that data that you certainly have no need for, you could have something actually useful to you down here. Isn't that nice?” He hums out as you stand up. Your hands coming up to your helmet to tug it off with a gasp. A nice deep breath in of the oddly fresh air in here leaves you a bit more relaxed as you shake your head. Your hair falls into a messy heap more so than anything particularly pretty or graceful. Imagine if you could have that kind of hair care routine down here? A girl can dream, right? You lean over to get a good look at Sebastians things, but the fish doesn't say a word. His entire body seems tense, gaze locked on you.

“Uh- everything okay?” You ask, but he seems to almost be staring through you.

“Whats your name?”

“Y/N? Why?” You attempt to ask but he’s already leaned his face close to yours, leaving you both tense and uncomfortable. His third hand falls to your hip to tug you in. One hand pushing your hair back, and the other cupping at your cheek. His eyes bright as they flick around your face. His breath comes out oddly shaky, its hard to tell if that's fear or anger or what. Still he releases you all at once, staring you down like you'll stab him while his back is turned. He seems shaken up, like one of those small puppies that gets lost in rooms that are too big.

“You alright? You're acting really jumpy for a man that was talking so smooth just a moment ago.”

“Where did you get that- why do you look like that?”

“Ouch? I can't exactly help the way I was born. You didn't have to be so rude about it. That's a real fucking mean way of calling me ugly.”

“No- no you're not- that's not-” He attempts to correct himself but really just devolves into confused choked noises.

“Is there something specific about my face you don't like or? Like, should I put the helmet back on?”

“NO! No I just…haven't seen a face like that in a while. You remind me of someone is all. Someone I miss.” You hesitate for a moment before allowing the defensiveness to wash off you. He’s grieving, maybe? I mean seeing someone that looks like a loved one you can't see anymore must hurt, right? Especially down here. You're certain that if you'd been trapped down here as long as he has and saw someone that looked identical to a loved one on the surface, you'd probably freak out too.

“Can- Can you see them again?”

“No. They…They've been dead for a long time.”

“Im sorry for your loss.”

“No, no it's fine. Seeing you was just a bit shocking is all. Never mind that- is there something you wanted to buy?” He tries to carry on, but now, every time you step into his shop. He can't help but let his eyes linger on your face.

[cyberskulzzz]

In honor of me moving and not having wifi the last three days I made this while I was gone:

Moving in with Rodrick Heffley Headcanons!🎀

(not proof read)

Prompt: After years of touring together, you and Rodrick finally move into your first stable home.And you two try to find compromises on your decor styles. 

(You’re both in your twenties now. Think grunge/punk x coquette/girly vibes,iykyk.)

•Obviously Rodrick lives for his subculture its not just his style, it’s self expression. While you’ve lived together on tour, moving into a real apartment together feels completely different,you quickly notice the clashing of your guys’s visions for your home. 

•This is the first time since high school that either of you has had a stable place to call home,not couch surfing or living out of suitcases. 

•So to prepare you sat down together and made a list of what your new place needed,separating responsibilities for furniture and decor to each of you. 

•Now the actual clash,Rodrick assumed your decorating style would stay simple, like it was used to be on the road,mostly black and leather,with a few pink accents here and there to bring in your personality. However now that you guys had that rockstar budget and you could buy your whole ass pinterrest board,you were way to excited to not do so. 

•But when you came home and he saw the boxes filled with bows, pastel furniture,and candles, he was visibly overwhelmed.

•“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“I don’t fuck with pink that much, babe.”

“We don’t need, like, twenty bows in one place. Not even Santa’s elves have that many yk.“

•But before you could respond annoyed,you noticed his decor piled by the door: thrifted, torn items he’d collected over the years. Leopard print blankets, a beat-up leather couch, a black table covered in graffiti and stickers, and a few lava lamps.

•The two of you argued for about 30 minutes before Rodrick,got fed up

•: “Let’s just put everything up and see how it looks. If it’s terrible, we’ll fix it.”

•You agreed,mostly hoping your style would take over the atmosphere if you decorated faster.

•Luckily the feared clashing of your styles wasnt bad at all,to your surprise. 

The apartment ended up looking like a chaotic mix of grunge and coquette.Your Yankee candles sat next to his record player, your novels next to his cds.

•Rodrick hated the pile of decorative pillows on your bed. When he found out they were “just for decor” and needed to be put off the bed every night, he lost it. Your bedtime routine didn’t help either: silk sheets, incense sticks, humidifiers, and meditative audiobooks. It drove him crazy,at first. But after the first time you gave him a sheet mask and a skincare session, he was asleep in minutes. Now, he doesn’t mind the routine,as long as he’s included. 

•Rodrick is surprisingly chill about letting you take over the kitchen and bathroom essentials. He couldn’t care less if he’s drinking out of a hello kitty mug or drying off with a pink towel after showering.We know damn well that man is comfortable in his masculinity. 

•Rodrick is an excellent host,being used to having many people around on tour.Your friends, family, and band members always feel welcome,sometimes even overstay their welcome. There’s ALWAYS someone around on the weekends.  You two have a whiteboard by the door where guests can scribble little messages or doodles. Next to it is a Polaroid wall, filled with pictures of you and Rodrick from all the way back in high school. 

•The guest room doubles as a writing/home studio.Rodrick often disappears to “work,” but you know he’s just messing around on his drums half the time,needing to clear his head. 

•You constantly have to remind him of things like throwing away trash or closing the toothpaste. (Susan is so thankful for you when she sees the improvement lol.)

•It’s a little messy, a little chaotic, but filled with love and you couldn’t care less. 

[mintytealfox]

angst, angst I say!! How much worst would it be if Norton had the touch of tuberculosis?

oh GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSHH 😭😭😭😭

add a bit of BLOOD to those coughs and AAAAAAAHHH 😭😭😭😭

Like TB is infectious but can only be caught if you spend a lot of time with the person infected with it. So in Norton's case if Benny had it, then Norton would too, sense it seems like Norton only really spent time with Benny and a lot of time at that, enough to catch a thing like TB. orz Gee thanks Benny....

"Treatment Early diagnosis, adequate diet, rest, and fresh air could help some people recover or at least have a remission. However, such care wasn't an option for the poor <---------- 🙃

Death rate In 1882, TB killed one out of every seven people living in the United States and Europe

Leading cause of death In 1899, TB, also known as "consumption", was the leading cause of death worldwide

in the early 1900s, even under the best conditions, 50% of people with TB died within five years"

Bro would 95% be on his way OUT orz Bro would be at the point of: find a bed, lay in it, and calling it a life DX NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

*points at* vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv Doc Holiday

talk about not caring anymore and just collecting as MUCH money as he can in ANY WAY that he can. Like, he is gonna die soon anyway so why not grab all the money he can get his hands on for as long as he can.

the key years that might have helped him survive it were gone and wasted in the mines anyway, so, thinking his fate is sealed, might as well live a life that gives him blue skies

a life of Gambling, Drinking, Travel, Blackmail, and all around not giving a FLYING F---CARE

I think he would survive longer than he thought, but still counting his days for sure.

So he would 100% accept that invitation to a fancy manor cause "why not, sure, it'll be fun to be in a fancy place for once and a life is all it costs for all that money, then I could just relax and drink when I don't feel like gambling"

Feeling that fatigue getting to him and needing more money so he can have more rest days orz

"Those with active TB can show any of the following symptoms:

Bad cough (lasting longer than two weeks).

Pain in your chest.

Coughing up blood or sputum (mucus).

Fatigue or weakness.

Loss of appetite.

Weight loss.

Chills.

Fever.

Night sweats."

Gosh DANG orz

Like the image of Da Capo in the same room as him and he just looks an absolute sweaty mess that is sort of drunk (and being drunk causing him to be more chatty)

-Norton knowing everyone is staring at him- "what..? ya can't catch it unless you're locked in a room with me, breathing the same air for a looong while." -leans forward with a smirk- "Heeeell, we can even share a kiss right now and you wouldn't get it~"

Bro would be drowning in the walls he has put up around himself and the characters he puts on. IT would take an excavator and years to get to the real him by this point ;;

But the thought of bonding with the Da Capo/(except Orpheus pff) group through shared trauma after escaping, and and just constantly having each other's backs. Even though its a lot of getting Norton out of trouble cause he keeps going back to gambling when drunk and causing problems in towns they go to.

And then the time would come when Norton ends up in a hospital and just "looks like this is my last stop..." and unable to follow the group in their efforts to run and stay safe from anything manor related that is following them.

OH and then after hearing they left town he just gets out of bed and drinks as much booze as he can and causes one last big scene that prompts those who have been following them to go after Norton only for him to blowup one more mine.

orz

[euphoriaslux]

hello!

hi everyone, so sorry i have been mia this month your girl had a wee bit of a depressive episode but you know what we're BACK! I'm going to get back to writing daily so i can feed you guys and stop focusing so much on perfection because ultimately i am writing smut about fictional characters who do not know who i am, why do i care so much!!

anywho, here's a little snippet of my part two for "two's a party" that will hopefully come out very soon :) this is mainly angst but there are three separate smut scenes in the whole fic because I'm sick in the mind. my vincent fic will also hopefully come out soon, i have had such trouble writing him for some reason so i think i need to rewatch aoaf and get an idea of his characterization again... ANYWAY enjoy this snippet and let me know if u guys have any requests :p

The sun has set, and you find yourself standing outside of the tennis courts. You passed by gaggles of students on their way to parties and bars, wearing tight clothes and big smiles with the scent of cheap liquor stuck them like a cloud. Hearing the sound of tennis balls clanging against the metal gate, you open the door to the courts ever so slightly, peering in to see Art grabbing neon green balls from a bucket before slamming them with his racket, making you cringe at the harsh smack it makes when it comes in contact with the wall. 

There’s no one else in the courts, likely because it’s nearly sunset on a Friday.  You try and close the door quietly behind you but it makes a loud sound as it goes back to its original position, and you shake your head slightly as Art turns around, meeting your eyes. He’s wearing a Stanford Tennis sweatshirt, with his blond locks peeking out from the black cap that’s backwards on his head. He stands, staring at you for a few moments before he puts his racket on the floor, walking towards you. Your heart starts thumping in your chest, so fast that you’re scared he’ll be able to hear it through your ribcage. 

“Hi,” you smile, hoping your nerves don’t show. You hug your arms as a particularly strong wind chill passes through, feeling the goosebumps start to form. 

“Hi,” he parrots you, slightly breathless. 

“You haven’t been to class lately, just wondering if you’re alive.”

“That’s a good excuse to stalk me,” he grins, and you feel your shoulders drop at the sight. 

“Good to see your confidence hasn’t taken a hit,” you say as he takes some tennis balls from the pocket of his sweatshirt and tosses them into the bucket before taking a few steps closer to you. 

“Nope,” he says, his mouth popping at the p. 

“I think that may be impossible.”

“What gave you such an impenetrable ego, Art?” you cock your head and he shrugs, smiling as he puts his hands on his hips.

“Don’t know, maybe being great at hitting a ball with a racket your whole life does something to your brain chemistry. The jury’s still out on if it’s a good thing,” 

You hum, stifling a laugh. The two of you stand quietly for a few moments before you talk.

“Last weekend, if I did something wrong-”

“No, you didn’t do anything,” Art cuts you off, sighing at the topic. “Patrick and I-”

“We got into a stupid fight. It doesn’t matter.”

You play with the skin around your nails. 

“That makes me feel like it was my fault.” You take a deep breath before talking again.

“What you and Patrick have, how you know each other. How you’ve grown together, and play together. I would feel awful if I played any part in messing that up.”

Art scoffs. “No need to be melodramatic, we’re not fucking dating or anything.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. 

“I saw he has a match this weekend…” you prompt, and Art nods.

“Are you gonna go?,” you ask gently. Art says nothing, and you decide not to press him. 

“Okay, well I’m going to go,” you adjust the strap of your backpack. 

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

Art looks you up and down before he takes off his hat and then brings his sweatshirt over his neck, tossing the sweatshirt into your chest as he puts his hat back on. 

“Don’t want you getting cold.”

“It’s fine, Art-”

“You’ll give it back to me next time.”

Feeling the fabric between your fingers, a grin crosses your face at his words.

"Alright, next time.''

Art watches as you walked out of the tennis courts, leaving him alone in the quiet noise of the sunset. He’s forced to remember that morning with Patrick.

 

It was a couple of minutes before seven, the sunlight just starting to creep through the blinds of the hotel window. You’d just shuffled out of the room a couple hours ago, your shoes in your hands and your shirt on backwards. Art was laid across the two twin beds that they pushed together, his hand on his stomach as he watched Patrick grab his shirt, pulling it on and buttoning the bottom three buttons. 

“Can’t find my pants,” Patrick muttered as he stopped his movement, his eyes scanning the room. Art snickered from his position on the bed. 

“They’re on the chair,” Patrick turned at Art’s voice, grinning as he walked across the room to find his jeans perched on the wooden chair. He could feel Art’s eyes on him as he tugged his pants above his thighs, zipping his jeans and leaving a sliver of his boxers visible. 

This continues for a while - Patrick haphazardly packing and stressing about his tennis game tomorrow as Art falls in and out of sleep, slightly jolting when Patrick closes a drawer particularly hard or trips over a piece of clothing on the floor. Art was almost asleep again when he heard Patrick’s voice, muffled by the bathroom door. 

“Can I use your razor?”

 Before he could think, Art yelled back “I have a new one in my backpack, just use that.”

Patrick’s movement stills for a moment before he pops his head out of the bathroom door, his hand raised with the razor and a slight furrow in his brows. 

“I can’t use yours?” he asks, and Art doesn’t like the guilt that the question causes him, and doesn’t know why the ask makes his mouth dry. 

“Just use the new one. You won’t get my hair on you.”

“No sweat,” Patrick moves to go back to the bathroom but is cut off by Art.

“Use the new one, Patrick.”

“Jesus Christ Art, I just need to use your damn razor,” Patrick’s smiling, but his voice is a little sharper, a twinge of hurt playing on his tongue. 

“Fine, use it. I don’t care,” Art sighs as he rises from the pillow to sit up, pinching the place between his eyes.”

“My dick was in your mouth last night, in case you forgot.”

Patrick rests against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, Art stares at Patrick for a few moments, feeling the skin on his face get warm. Of course he remembers last night, but hearing it out loud makes him feel a weird mix of rage and embarrassment. Art stands up and moves towards the dresser, grabs his clothes, and starts to put them on. 

“Dude, is it so insulting to think you wanted to fuck me?” Patrick says through a laugh, watching Art intently. 

Art pulls his arms through the sleeves of his sweater, staring at his brunette counterpart as he stuffs his wallet into his pocket. 

“Patrick. Don’t think I did anything last night that wasn’t just to fuck her, alright?” Art gives a tight-lipped smile as he grabs his keys. He tries to move towards the door but Patrick is faster, cutting him off as he blocks the door. 

“C’mon Art,” he playfully taps his chest. 

“It’s just me. You can be honest.”

The soft tone Patrick uses, the implications, the stuffiness of the room and the sight of Patrick’s slightly tousled hair infuriates Art. 

“What the fuck did you think was gonna happen today, Patrick? I mean, what, we were gonna walk out of here holding hands, drinking a milkshake with one straw or something?” Art chuckles dryly, seeing the change in Patrick’s face as he realizes what he’s saying. He knows he’s being mean, but he doesn’t know why. He’s too far gone, now. 

“I don’t want to be with someone like you, and I thought you knew that.”

Art’s words stick in the air as Patrick chews on his lower lip, slightly nodding. 

'“Good luck tomorrow,” Art pats Patrick’s shoulder as he pushes past him to open the door, but Patrick grabs his wrist right after the key clicks open. 

“You know, you have so much going on in your head,” Patrick points his finger into Art’s face, any humor in his voice long gone. 

“That you let it rule your whole life. Well, I’m done letting you infect me with it. I won’t let you turn me into a pathetic coward too.”

Art slams the hotel room door so hard that a couple from across the hallway creaks their door open, asking if Patrick is okay. He doesn’t answer.

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 22: better out than in @whumperless-whump-event

vomiting / “i got your hair, it's fine.” (that dialogue is shown thru action i still wanted to include it)

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Archie

whumpee: Simon

cw: vomit (not super graphic but. yknow. its there. its the prompt.) AND slightly graphic descriptions of blood and broken bones (unrelated to the vomit)

for those who want to skip the actual vomiting, it starts at the line "Simon are you sure you're--" and ends at the line "I know, I know.."

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Simon was trying, in vain, to nap when a knock on his window startled him awake.

There was really only one person that was so polite as to knock before breaking in. He sprang to his feet.

Well, not really sprang. More like.. slowly dragged himself to his feet so as to not jostle himself more than he needed to. His stomach felt… off.

Well, he sort of felt off in general.

He wasn’t sick though. Nope. No way. Archie was the one with the constitution of an old man, not Simon. Simon got his flu shot every year and drank tons of water and washed his hands nearly every hour. There was no chance he was sick. Not in a million years.

So he dragged his perfectly healthy body out of bed and shuffled to the window to see what mess he was going to have to clean up this time.

Archie waved to Simon through the window as he approached, so at least it didn’t seem to be a life-threatening injury right off the bat. Still, there was blood staining his teeth, slowly streaming from his nose and down to his chin. 

The sight of it made Simon’s stomach lurch. It wasn’t the sight that bothered him, he was used to that, but the thought of having to taste all that blood. He wondered if Archie’s tastebuds were also enhanced like the rest of his senses. He hoped not.

He hooked his fingers under the window and pulled it up, allowing Archie to stumble in. 

“Long time no see. Can't tell if thats a good or bad thing,” Simon quipped, catching Archie by the arm before he could faceplant on the cool tile.

“Awww somebody missed me~” Archie chirped, voice audibly a bit more nasal than usual. He straightened and allowed himself to be led to sit at the kitchen table.

Simon playfully rolled his eyes, though the action made him decidedly more nauseous and he stopped. He swallowed. 

“Yeah, sure. Just tell me what I’m working with here,” He motioned in Archie's general direction.

“Nothing too bad! I think I broke my nose, maybe a rib, and definitely sprained my ankle,” He listed. They had done this dance countless of times, and considering the states Archie had come to Simon in in the past, this really wasn’t too bad.

Simon pulled on his gloves. “Alright, let me take a look.”

Simon gently tilted Archie's head back. A lot of blood had already dried on his lips and chin, but there was still a decently steady stream of fresh blood dripping out. Again, the sight of it wasn’t what bothered Simon, but this time it was the smell.

It was metallic and overpowering and it was right in front of Simon's face. It was far from the worst thing he had smelled by a long shot, but it was enough to bring his queasiness up a few notches. He turned away, giving himself a few seconds to regain his composure.

Still, he knew he wasn’t sick. He must have eaten something weird or maybe he hadn't eaten enough. Sure, he had been feeling sort of run down and chilled all day, but that could be chalked up to stress, not illness. That much he was sure of.

He steeled himself and applied gentle pressure to the bleeding appendage. 

“It’s not broken,” He said, handing Archie some napkins to plug the flow of blood. He got up to change his gloves, silently grateful to be away from the coppery smell for a moment. “You just gave yourself a nasty nosebleed.”

“Oh sweet! I was honestly a little scared that I had--” Archie paused. “Simon? You okay? You look a little.. pale.”

“I’m fine. Just tired. Let’s check your ribs.” Simon said quickly, swallowing convulsively and standing. “Lay on the table.”

Archie lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. He winced as he got up and sat on the wooden table, hissing as he lowered himself down.

Simon began palpating his side, applying gentle pressure. Simon’s fingers caught the lower left rib and it shifted with a grotesque scraping sensation, earning a yelp from Archie. Simon blanched.

“Yeah, definitely seems uh..” He swallowed again. “It’s a light fracture. Just ice it.”

Simon shut his eyes. Again, usually none of this stuff bothered him, but the feeling of Archie’s bones grinding against eachother beneath his finger was a sensation he felt in his teeth, and, consequently, his stomach. 

Evidently, his body had enough.

“Simon, are you sure you're--”

Archie was cut off by Simon suddenly sitting as straight as a rod, lips clamped together, sweat beading on his brow. There was a beat of silence in which Simon ran through every possible way to avoid what he knew was about to happen, but it was too late. Archie opened his mouth to speak again, but didn't get a chance before Simon bolted to the bathroom.

He unceremoniously crashed to his knees in front of the toilet just as he began to retch.

“Shit!” Archie staggered up from the table, limping as fast as he could to the hallway. Stupid ankle!

As he rounded the corner, he let out a sympathetic gasp at what he saw. Courtesy of Simon forgetting to close the door behind him, he was able to see him clinging weakly to the rim of the toilet, panting in between bouts of nausea. Sweat was dripping down his brow, and Archie could finally see how green around the gills he really was.

“Oh Simon..” He cooed, hobbling over to kneel next to him. He placed a hand between Simon’s shoulder blades and rubbed gently up and down. “ It’s okay.. Just get it out..”

Simon’s body tensed as he shoved his head back down into the bowl and gagged unproductively. He was silently grateful for Archie rubbing his back, as it gave him a sensation to focus on other than his stomach trying to turn itself inside out. He let out a low whine.

“I know, I know..” Archie used his free hand to simultaneously push Simon’s hair back from his forehead and check for a fever. He frowned. “You’re burning. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Simon screwed his eyes shut as he finally pulled away from the toilet bowl, collapsing into the wall. “Not.. sick..”

“... Come again?”

“Don’t.. don’t need.. m'not sick..” He breathed, but it came out as more of a whine, and Archie couldn’t help but snort.

“I need get that on video. I’ll play it anytime you tell me I’m being ridiculous,” He laughed, gently running a hand through Simon’s sweaty locks. He ignored Simon's absurd denial. “Let’s get you in bed.. you think you’re done?” 

Simon kept his eyes shut as he nodded, knowing that if he looked at his mess, it'd just start up again. Archie leaned over to flush the toilet for him and took a bit of toilet paper to clean his chin. The act was so small and so tender that Simon found his eyes welling up with tears. He blamed the fever.

It took some maneuvering, considering both of their states, but Archie eventually got Simon into bed, and tucked in, once he saw begin to shiver. He placed a small trashcan beside the bed, just in case.

“You should.. should get in bed..” Simon murmured weakly. “Rest your ankle..”

Archie giggled. “You’re just saying that because you want a warm body to latch onto.”

Simon hummed noncommittally.

Still, Archie wasted no time changing out of his Vigil jumpsuit and into some of Simon’s clothes before cleaning his face of blood and slipping beneath the covers, next to Simon.

As predicted, Simon sidled right up to Archie and buried his face in his neck, inhaling the familar scent.

Archie smiled. Though it rarely happened, without fail, Simon became a complete cuddlebug when he was sick, and Archie was absolutely soaking it in.

He drew Simon close to his chest, and ran a hand through his hair. He used his other hand to rub wide circles across Simon’s warm back, and it wasn’t long before Simon visibly relaxed under his touch. 

Simon wasn’t used to being in this role, but was hardly complaining. It felt kind of nice to be doted on. He lazily threw an arm across Archie’s chest and pressed himself closer.

"Maybe.. I'm a little sick.." He slurred, already halfway to dream land.

Archie's chest vibrated with a soft laugh as he carded a hand through the dark locks rhythmically.

The two drifted off, tangled in eachothers arms, with the silent promise to deal with their respective ailments in the morning. For now, they slept.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[nahoney22]

TBB Echo with female reader, prompts:

Echo: if you keep looking at me like that, i’m not responsible for what happens next. 

Reader: take control of me, i trust you. 

I just really need dommy Echo in my life 🤤 Make this so NSFW that I'd get fired for opening it up while at work. 👀 ❤️

3000 Prompt List Celebration

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 1.2k

NSFW

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

“Take control of me, I trust you.”

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content. Name calling, pet names, sexual tension, praise, dirty talk, swearing, face-fucking, lots of cum, dom!echo, female reader. Not proofread.

authors note: bestie you knew I had to pull this out for you for your birthday yesterday. Happy birthday @burningfieldof-clover ❤️ 🎂

The tension between you and Exho was thick. Thick and dirty.

Ever since you laid eyes on him you wanted to be laid under him and luckily, he wanted that just as much.

The flirting had been going on for weeks now and from the teasing touches to just flat out ‘I want you to fuck ne’ stares, the tension had finally broke.

You’re both in the marauder, alone, and both of you knew that. The fact of even being alone made you exceptionally turned on that you just couldn’t help but be a little bit naughty.

With Tatooine being too hot to handle, you were eternally thankful that Wrecker convinced everyone to get an onboard ice cooler. To which just so happened to contain some nice, refreshing ice popsicles.

So, taking one in your hand you moseyed up towards the cockpit where you knew Echo was and took a seat. For a change, it was him under the control panel instead of Tech and the view was quite nice from your angle.

"What are you up to, handsome?" you purr, unabashedly flirting with him in the absence of others.

He raises his head from beneath the panel, observing you as you leisurely unwrap your chilled treat, a sly smirk gracing his face. "Just doing some maintenance, princess. What you got there?"

You notice his gaze lingering on you, making you gratified that your playful tactic is already taking effect. "Just an ice pop," you nonchalantly shrug, your core tingling at his nickname for you.

"Couldn't have gotten me one?”

"I could have, I should have, but I didn't," you mischievously smirk, then slowly bring the phallic-shaped confection to your lips, hollowing your cheeks as you savour its sweet flavor before pulling away with a satisfying pop.

His chest rises and falls heavily, his mouth watering at the sight of your seemingly innocent action, though he knows all too well the true intentions behind it. Especially as you maintain an unwavering gaze upon him.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

You hum with amusement at his words, crossing your legs as you intertwine your tongue along the melting icy surface, tantalisingly affected by the fire generated by the undeniable tension between you both. "And why would I do that?"

The cord between you both finally snapped and you almost gasp as in a second he is up from the floor of the Marauder and standing right in front of you. “Well then, why don’t you taste something else?”

You watch as his hands trace over his codpiece, your eyes almost bulging out of your head as in a second his gear drops to the ground with a thud. The outline of his cock pressed against his blacks, thick and just ready to be tasted.

Eyes flickering up at him, you instinctively drop from the chair to your knees. Your melting ice pop was carelessly dropped to the floor and bound to make a sticky mess but you didn’t care - you did not want to pass this opportunity up.

He chuckles darkly and teasingly pulls his cock out slowly, letting it ping out of its confinement and starts to strike himself. “I always knew you’d look good with my cock in front of your pretty face.” He cooes, brushing some strands of hair out of your face before cupping your cheek, “Go on, open up.”

Your lips part, eyes fluttering shut as his already oozing cock traces along your lips before he sinks past them. He hisses, holding your face as you slowly swirl your tongue around his tip. “That’s it, that’s my pretty slut.”

Moaning against him, you feel your whole body shudder at the taste of him, your panties getting soaked by how turned on you were at his dominant side.

He’s sighing heavily, embracing the feeling of your hot tongue wrapping around him. Not once does his gaze dwindle from you as you begin to bop your head up and down, groaning and sending vibrations through his body. His spine tingles hot, his hand on your cheek moving to the back of your head where he grasps your hair and pulls you away, a trail of saliva following. “What is it you want?” He asks, eyes filled with lust.

“Take control of me,” you rasp, looking up at him with wanting eyes, “I trust you.”

He grins and forces your mouth back on his cock, slowly rocking his hips and letting his cock slide down your throat. “Let your jaw go slack, I want to fuck your face.”

You do as he commands and your eyes tighten shut as his hips begin to snap back and forth. Eyes watering, you start letting out low throated and wrung out moans. “Gag on my cock,” he hissed, lowering his pace until your throat closes around him, tip hitting right at the back of your throat which of course, as he wished, makes you gag. “That’s it. Good girl. My good cock-sucking princess. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to see you like this?”

You’re gasping, making tiny breathy sounds with your mouth still stuffed to the brim. Body tense, you succumb to his filthy words and cock that you could only love every second of it. You couldn’t reply to him, only accepting his cock that he slid in and out of your mouth, even teasing your swollen lips by trailing his thick length along them before breaching past again.

“Suck me,” Echo demands, hardly recognizing the gravel in his voice. “Don’t stop. Come on, you’re a greedy thing aren’t you?” He pants, tugging on your hair as you begin to suck against him with all you could give. “Think you can be seductive like that and not expect my cock down your throat? Hm? I knew exactly what you were doing.”

Echo starts to feel the burn of his release running hot through his veins, and he doesn’t pull back quick enough as he spurts with you suckling on the head of his cock, catching you off guard. You can’t swallow it down fast enough, but don’t complain as you drool cum and spit, gasping for breath once he pulls out.

He stumbles back, leaning onto the control panel as he watches you remain on your knees, breathing heavily and wiping your mouth. He swallows hard and approaches you again, this time crouching down to your level and gently pinching your chin between his fingers and guides your head up to look at him. “I should’ve warned you,” he sighs, using his scomp to dab away the small tears that leak past your eyes.

“It’s okay,” you pant with a lazy smile, on a complete high yourself, “I always wanted to taste you.”

He smiles at you and ever so gently, unlike before, kisses your lips in such a gentle manor that nobody would think he was face-fucking you just moments ago. “I want to please you now, I want-”

“I want you to still take control of me Echo,” you whisper seductively, thriving as Echo lifts you into his arms and crosses towards the bunks, “I trust you to take care of me.”

Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone e @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @the-good-shittt @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions

[italiangothicwriteblr]

Hello! I come with Tiny Scene Sunday prompts!: Cataclysm, corridor, complaints.

Hey! Thanks for the prompt!

Scene under the cut!

@/rose-bookblood This is more Giacomo/Basilio content that I thought you would appreciate

Dark corridors still made Giacomo’s heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest. If not at the memory of his trial all those years ago, during the Purge, then when he was forced to recall why Basilio kept his castle dim. What he was hiding.

Now, back in the setting of his dreams and nightmares for the first time since he’d left it, the fear was back a thousandfold.

In a desperate bid to escape from the chaos for a minute, he ducked into an old stone closet he’d found during his many years there. Almost no one knew of its existence.

If he was going to be seeing Basilio again, he needed to get his bearings first. Didn’t want his magic lashing out as a defense mechanism.

“Well, well,” that familiar, saccharine voice cooed from the doorway, that had haunted every flashback he’d had for years.

He did say almost no one knew of his hiding spot.

“What do you want?” Giacomo turned to face him, resolutely keeping his voice from wavering. Basilio hadn’t changed in the months since he’s seen him last—his presence was still enough to rattle Giacomo’s confidence and scare him into submission.

“Can’t check up on a old friend?” he said, stepping closer and sending a chill down Giacomo’s spine as he did so. “It’s not crazy that I would be worried about you, going to them and all. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now that’s harsh,” he scolded, the way he would chastise one of his dogs, “you always were so desperate to be liked. Forgive me for thinking that constantly being around people who despise you might eat at you a bit.”

He was right, that was the fucking thing. Basilio knew everything about him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Anything was better than another minute with you.” He bit back in lieu of a real response.

The bastard only laughed, if you could ascribe that label to the hollow, haunting sound he made. He moved even closer, his hand on Giacomo’s face seeming to drain all the warmth from it.

Giacomo didn’t move away, frozen to the spot, as Basilio leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“That quickly, you’ve let them turn you against me? After all this time, you don’t know that I’m the one who cares about you? Come back to me.”

His hand slid down the front of Giacomo’s shirt, in a move he recognized very well from the old days. Whenever he was doubting himself, doubting his choices, Basilio seemed to know. He’d come to him like this, flatter him, and seduce him.

Even now, the ease of a familiar routine had its appeal. Slip back into his old habits, that didn’t require any effort or thought.

His brain barely registered the fingers that undid his shirt laces, or the continued whisper in his ear. “I know you’ve missed me.”

His magic bubbled to the surface, rebelling against what was happening. Wrong wrong wrong thundered in his brain.

Giacomo shoved him off with a magical push, scratching under his eye.

“Never. Fucking. Again.” he growled.

Basilio just smiled, unfazed by the rejection.

“I get it now,” his grin widened, “you’re with him again, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Giacomo growled warningly.

“Of all the things! Gods, you really do never learn! I suppose I should have expected it, pining mess that you were. Bet he didn’t have to put any effort into getting you to fuck him again.”

“Shut up.” His magic shook in his veins again.

“How did I not see this sooner? Come on, you can’t seriously believe this isn’t some big joke for him, like last time? You think he’s not bragging to the emperor that he neutralized you?”

Giacomo’s eyes blazed gold, magic bursting from his fist and shaking the room.

“Easy.” Basilio’s face softened again, as if the cruelty had never been there. “I’m just concerned.”

“Like I’d believe that again. You’re a washed-up usurper who got lucky one time and can only keep what you have with killing. You’ve never worried about anyone but yourself.”

“Well, I certainly know who put those ideas in your head.”

With that, he walked out. He always got the last word.

Giacomo followed a minute later, lacing his shirt back up. He started walking—he didn’t know where to yet, he just needed to get away.

Unfortunately for him, what he didn’t see was Enrico around the corner, watching Basilio leave the secluded area, and Giacomo come from the same place with his hair and clothes in disarray.

Enrico, for his part, had to suppress a giggle. Finally, he could prove that he was right, Giacomo hadn’t changed.

[archorcist]

❛ just let me do this for you. ❜ — @lutenants, random dialogue prompts, accepting!

      their recent sparring session had taken its toll. everything aches, thew burning with every step as he slumps down onto a nearby seat. his neck cranes as he unfolds a wing, hollows of light casting an irritated glow. the once neatly arranged feathers now lay disheveled / 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 much like the bodies they left scattered after an extermination. when he senses her presence, his voice sounds, speech pitched with annoyance. ‘ uuhh, lute? don’t get me wrong, love when you do your thing, babe but, um ... you really have to go that fuckin' hard? ’ he draws the wing closer, making an attempt to restore order but struggling to tame some of the more unruly strands. observant as ever, lute begins to move closer, her stare fixated on them. his brows furrow, an exasperated sigh escaping him as his arms lazily rise to cross over his chest. ‘ uuuugh i know what you're thinking. it's fine. ’ there's an initial recoil as she begins to approach, feathers voicing their own protest with a soft rustle. ‘ seriously, i'll handle it. ’

      'just let me do this for you.' an order as much as it was an offering / 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. she reaches, fingertips softly grasping the edge of his wing. she draws it closer, resting it across her lap as digits begin to thread through the tousled mess. a defensive jibe follows suit. ‘ you fuckin' deaf, bitch? i just said i didn’t need your ’ he's interrupted, a sudden yelp as she plucks a feather. the others flare in irritation, as though they're expressing their discontent much like his tone now does. ‘ fuck! chill, would ya? ’ as devoted as lute is, the command fails to deter her. instead, she repeats the motion and he starts, lips curling into a sneer. ‘ jeez! you've got them all, fuckin' quit it already! ’ he offers a sharp intake of breath, followed by a hiss / another remark. ‘ shit. if you kill like you pluck, those cunts are in for it. ’  her hands soon start to wander again and his muscles tense, anticipating the familiar ache. but this time, fingers lethal as knives begin to move a bit more carefully; begin to comb through plumes with a delicate precision.

      he shudders as the ire etched onto emitted features gradually mellows, replaced by something resembling embarrassment. he hates how vulnerable it makes him feel, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐒 as if his essence is suddenly laid bare / at the mercy of her touch. a murmur, voice held low, as though he's trying to keep the whole exchange a secret. ‘ dammit ... this is stupid. ’ despite the frustrations, he makes no effort to move ... not yet. and as the initial unease wanes, wings start to press back more eagerly, a movement that belies the irritation still lacing his voice. lute of all people would understand, the motion roughly translates to gratitude.

[vmeemo]

"did you hear that?"

Decided to use your ocs this time around, simply because I could.

------

Alex was busy lounging around in the apartment, recovering from the recent date night she had with Robin. The other inkling was busy at the moment, but it was nice to simply chill for a bit before cuddling together some more.

Or at least, it would've been chill, had there not have been a truly horrible grinding noise heard all throughout the apartment. Alex had to cover her ears in order to block out the grinding and even then it didn't fully work to block out the noise.

"Uuugh..." Alex grumbled. It doesn't take long before she hears Robin walking towards her, groaning as well.

"Did you hear that Alex?" They said, well aware that yes, Alex did in fact hear it. "It was awful!"

"I know, I know..." Alex said, getting herself off the couch, "I'll go look for it..."

"Thanks Alex!" The inkling smiles as she sets off to figure out what made that grinding noise and whether or not she can get it to stop it from happening again. Strolling around the apartment she finds her little pet squee-g, Ace, huddled in the corner. Though there was no expression on the little squee-g, the inkling could tell that something wasn't right with Ace.

Alex crouches down, looking at the squee-g with concern, "Ace what's up? Something wrong?"

Ace lets out a small beep, sounding pretty low energy as it does so. The inkling frowns at this before giving the little squee-g a pat, "Guess you need a recharge huh. Well how about you come follow me and I can give you what you need. Sound good?"

The machine was silent before moving its chassis in a no movement. This makes Alex raise a brow before narrowing her eyes, "Ace. Did you do something you weren't supposed to?" The squee-g shy's away at the accusation before Alex forcefully picks up the little machine, "Come on Ace, I can't be having you make a mess right now, not when I'm looking for whatever made that grinding noise earlier."

The squee-g can't move while being held, so it simply gives its best impression of a slouch before Alex makes the squee-g face her, "I'll put you on time out later, for now you are going to help me look for the source. And-"

That's when Alex notices something sticking out of the squee-g's underside. Looked like a rod or something? When Alex yanks it out of Ace's underside it lets out some happy beeps as it was out of its vacuum. "Ooooooh I get it now. You had something stuck under you and that's what made that noise." With a smile she places the squee-g down onto the floor, "You feeling better now that things out of you?"

Ace response to the question was making little speedy circles around Alex, prompting a chuckle from the inkling, "Looks like someone's got the zoomies."

The squee-g ignored her, content on making little circles around the inkling, happy that thing was out of its shell.

[philtstone]

I would LOVE to read your take on 13 from the kiss list for your choice of pairing 😎

#13 -- "frustrated kisses". em sent me this w the eye emoji implied and i decided to curveball it into another dimension entirely. i'll make it up to u in the next prompt ...?

thank u to @parlegee and @firstelevens for proofing this for me and helping me work out the weird pacing kinks! sorry again abt how long this got, except im not really bc there needs to be 203948394 times more content for these 2; hopefully i have done this first attempt a modicum of justice.

“It is nice to meet a man with similar taste to one’s own,” T’Challa says, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

Sam must be looking at him a bit confused, so he clarifies,

“The coffee, Captain.”

“Oh. Oh – yeah, of course.”

The last time Sam was in Birnin Zana, he didn't really have a chance to soak up the culture. An unfortunate side-effect of the world very immediately ending, he thinks, which is a crying shame, 'cause this home brew is incredible.

"A special Border Tribe blend," the king explains. "My wife and mother insist it is too strong. Shuri, of course, believes the imported startup stuff from Kenya to be more interesting, and my most trusted General drinks exclusively tea.” He sighs, probably more dramatically than is necessary, and says, “they do not tell you when you become king that no one will want to enjoy a good cup of coffee with you in the afternoon. A very trying way to live one’s life, eh?”

T’Challa has an easy, personable way about him that Sam finds he likes immediately. He’s seen it before, sort of, in snatches. Only a really nice person, Sam’s always thought, would go through the shitshow that was the UN, come out the other side more put together than before, and offer the rest of their mess what was essentially open-invite political amnesty for the next two years. There was no way the King of Wakanda wasn’t, as Sam’s nephews might phrase it, the coolest ever dude.

Still; this might be the first time Sam’s really spoken to him like this. Like, shoulder to shoulder, as equals. He’s never really entertained the concept before. It’s a little weird. Pleasant, though.

He’s a comfortable presence at Sam’s side.

Sam, informed recently by both his sister and his friend that he is a total coffee snob, says,

“I think it’s great, your Majesty.”

Their walk has taken them slowly from the small coffee house in city proper – a clay hole-in-the-wall not unfamiliar in its vibe to Sam, though the beaded decor framing the entryway was encrypted with forceshields and the smokey inside had a high tech e-transfer payment system set up entirely waived when the elderly barista recognized his newest guest – through the Golden City Marketplace, past the colourful geometric architecture that shapes the terraces leading up to the Palace gardens, and now along the quiet walkway immediately preceding what Sam remembers is the courtyard they came through on their way down.

It’s a nice reprieve from the bustle of the first level, though Sam didn’t mind the energy. Even post-Blip, this place is thriving more than most. He’s sure there are reasons for that that are infrastructural and mostly beyond his cursory understanding of messy global economic systems. Then again, some things are plain for anyone to see. Sam’s spent the last twenty minutes watching as T’Challa stops every few steps to greet an old friend or speak with a grinning child. It’s so different from what he knows, what he’s come to expect of politicians from experience and education. And then, at once, the easy grace of knowing your people isn’t foreign at all to Sam. That part feels like home.

Heat’s dry, though. That’s so much the opposite of home it’s almost funny.

“So,” T’Challa says, now, in the new quiet of their surroundings. “You requested this visit claiming you had two things you wished to accomplish. What was the second thing?”

Sam takes a deep breath and looks squarely ahead, his hands in his pockets.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says.

They start climbing the steps of the first terrace.

“For Zemo.” The king is looking ahead, a mild look on his young face – Sam forgets sometimes that they’re almost the same age, T’Challa feeling somehow at once both younger and older than him – but there’s a note of gravity to his tone that has Sam hesitant. He feels strangely like there’s a test here he’s gotta pass.

“I know,” he starts, “I mean, your Majesty, I know – it wasn’t my responsibility the way my apologizing might come off, but I shouldn’t have just let it play out.”

“And you requested this visit so that you could tell me so.”

“I … requested this visit so I could thank you for the suit.”

“You are very welcome for that, Captain.”

“And so I could apologize.”

The bustle of the city sounds warm behind them, and their path is flanked by what Sam’s been told are arula trees. He picked that up years ago, when Steve brought ‘em here the first time. Weirdly, being around the short, wiry shapes of the stuff makes him miss his sister again, like the echo of a memory.

Sarah’s just a phonecall away these days. It’s relieving to be able to remember that.

“It was not your responsibility,” T’Challa comments.

“No.”

“But you feel responsible for those involved, in the way that one does.”

Sam sighs. “Not in a bad way.”

“I did not say it was bad,” T’Challa says quietly.

Sam looks down, pulling the small silver coffee cup pressed upon him by the shopkeeper out of his pocket. It’s decorated in dark, ornate designs, complicated but simple at once.

“I still wanna apologize.”

“On behalf of yourself, or Ingcuka Emhlophe?”

It takes Sam a second. “Uh. Myself.”

The corner of T’Challa’s mouth twitches. He seems to contemplate this answer for a second.

“Good,” he says finally. “He has done his own type of penance.” He inhales deeply, shoulders pulling back. As it has been the whole afternoon, he walks near silently, even on the flat tread of his sandals. Sam’s gotten used to Bucky’s accidental ghost walk, but this has a graceful deliberation to it that’s entirely different. “And ... we are a people of honour and dignity. But I understand what it is to make the pragmatic choice in the face of painful circumstance.” There’s a sudden weight to his expression, a weariness that’s crept in under the good-humour. On instinct, Sam pushes his own shoulders back, and angles himself to face T’Challa more directly. He says, more loudly, “I appreciate your apology, Captain. But be very much assured that Wakanda is not in the habit of giving gifts to those she does not consider friend.”

Sam blinks. He’s sure Sarah would be laughing at him right now, something about how he always talks a lotta shit for someone who gets thrown so easy. He decides to compartmentalize. Maybe he will call his sister later, so that she can geek out a little on his behalf. Sam realizes he has been staring at the King like a stunned catfish for the last thirty seconds.

“I’m – I’m honoured you think so, your Majesty.” 

They resume their walk; Sam matches T’Challa’s gait. The sun’s nice and warm above them. He feels compelled, after a second, to add something.

“You know I’m not – I’m not military anymore. It’s just Sam.”

“You do not have terms of respect in Louisiana?” T’Challa asks, turning his face towards Sam’s, a note of warm amusement in his voice that was probably tucked away there the whole time. It’s so genuine, but clever, too, like a subtle gottem that’s becoming more and more obvious the King seems to favour. Sam glances over his shoulder, to where he knows two Dora have been following them their whole walk. A respectful distance of course; T’Challa had seemed completely unbothered, even going so far as to quietly ask Sam whether they should get some to-go cups for their vigilant guard, the muted humour held carefully in his mouth. Now, clearly visible in the empty side street they’ve taken, Nomble lifts her chin in pleasant greeting, while Ayo, beside her, offers Sam a single, unquestionably challenging eyebrow.

T’Challa is still smiling.

They enter the palace grounds through a small side door. Once again there are genial greetings exchanged with a few stray ministers, what appears to be a handful of young Dora off-duty recognizable by their distinctive tattoos and shaved heads, and a joyful old woman with giant spacers in her earlobes who appears to be a gardener. They come to a stop by a small mosaic-patterned table housing a young woman with an elaborate head wrap and a little boy, absorbed by what looks to Sam like an overcomplicated board puzzle. The girl’s got this indulgent look on her face, half-exasperated.

“Ngentlonipho, kumkani wam.”

“Mhlobo wam,” T’Challa says, a note of open warmth in his voice that was not there before. He leans down, “Eyam, what are you doing?”

“Auntie Shuri’s puzzle,” said with great concentration.

“Ey. All afternoon?”

“It is a hard puzzle,” the little boy says, frowning intensely at pieces in front of him, round-cheeked and probably not much more than five years old. T’Challa gives Sam an amused, private look over the top of his curly head.

“No kiss hello for Baba?”

A very frustrated sort of kiss is dutifully pressed to the king’s offered cheek, before all attention is immediately turned back to the puzzle, the frown deepening between small, strong brows. Sam can’t help but eye Shuri’s set up over the top of the prince’s head. He has to admit it’s making his own head spin a little; the dedication to cracking it is kind of impressive.

“He has eaten?”

“An hour ago, my King.”

“Thank you, Sifso. A very hard puzzle, eh?”

“Ewe.”

“Your mother is looking for you, you know.”

“Ewe.”

“Azari. Awumlindeli umamakho. You do not make your mother wait.”

A mild look of contrition, sweet-faced like it usually is on kids, registers on the tiny prince’s face. Sam watches in amusement as the boy gathers up his stuff – the whole puzzle box put together is larger than his head – and holds it in too-short arms while he drops a second respectful – if childishly rushed – kiss goodbye to his father’s cheek and then makes a toddling beeline for the courtyard gate.

Sifso hurries after him with a hasty formality in the king’s direction, the end of her headscarf trailing behind her.

“Some puzzle,” Sam says, and T’Challa bursts out laughing, the kind that’s full of pride.

“Shuri does nothing but encourage him. Iyaphuma esandleni. He’s going to outsmart his mother one of these days, and then we will all be done for.” After a moment, he says, into the following quiet, “An interesting burden, to be responsible for people you do not know, and people you know so intimately, at once.”

Then he places a light hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other held behind his back, and continues their walk, through the palace courtyard.

*

Ingcuka Emhlophe -- white wolf

Eyam -- "my own"

[k3rm1e]

cuddling headcanons! ★~(◡﹏◕✿)

this is more of a test thing to see if i like writing this way and if this blog does well

other imagines and headcanons won't include everyone i write unless it is specifically requested and is a prompt i really like

includes: wilbur nihachu karljacobs quackity dream georgenotfound sapnap p!tommyinnnit p!badboyhalo p!skeppy p!eret p!philza p!tubbo p!ranboo

cw: cursing

wilbur:

wilbur is a very cuddle-y guy

to me he seems very soft

i always see people saying he would like spooning, but i disagree

i feel like he would do more of a half-spooning thing with his head on your chest or the other way around

mans would DEFINITELY make you run your fingers through his hair

i feel like he would lay on your chest and just *nuzzle* into the space between your shoulder and neck

anytime you tried to leave him, whether it was because he had to do something or you had to, he would whine. so. fucking. much.

It would probably always go something like:

you - i need to piss

wilbur - no <3

but the moment he decides its time to stop cuddling its fine

and if you complain that you’re gonna miss him he’ll just call you clingy and tease you

like??? sir???

all in good fun though, no bad intentions :)

nihachu:

i feel like you and niki would face each other

with your head like under her chin and in her chest (this is a bad description but look at the “honeymoon hug” on the list for better explanation ;-;)

she would always want to protect you

so she does that by like almost guarding you and keeping you close

niki would definitely do the arm thing where she just lightly moves her hand up and down you arm

i’m so sorry if you don't understand that, it just feels like something she would do

if you haven't experienced that it kinda sorta feels like spiders??? but in a good way???

but generally she is very protective

she just holds you so close the whole time

even if she doesn’t want to let you go, she’s more understanding about it

she would be upset but wouldn’t show it because she doesn’t want to make you feel guilty

niki is generally just an amazing cuddle-r (is that a word?) and has a super comforting presence

karljacobs:

karl would definitely keep your head on his chest

the whole time he would just absolutely squeeze the life out of you

he would constantly bend his neck down to kiss your head

and instead of just like leaving his head down so he could kiss you it would just be:

*inner monologue karl* hmmm i wanna kiss them on their head

and he would lean down to do so which, cute

but then five seconds later he would do it again

and again another five seconds later

and again

very cute karl but please sir, your neck is gonna be so messed up after this

when you had to leave he would be upset, but like niki, would try not to show it

except karl is very bad at that and his pouting would be so obvious

so you would feel guilty and layback down with him

immediately he just becomes (●´ω｀●)

like a happy little puppy

karl is just too adorable for you to deny

quackity:

now we all know this, quackity is a huge dork

which is why i believe he would DEFINITELY use your butt as a pillow

not even in a weird way

i just feel like quackity isn’t too comfortable with touch so this is sorta his way of being close to you without it being a whole serious thing

like he still is able to be goofy and comfortable without it being a whole big thing

him doing this would almost always come with a flatty patty joke from you

which always causes him to threaten divorce, even though you aren’t married

while it isn’t a very good position for things like physical touch, it is good for talking and having conversations

for some reason i feel like he’s the type of person to text someone when they’re right next to each other

so while he’s laying down he’ll just send you random photos of himself

very annoying when your phone is spammed, but also good blackmail material >:)

i don’t think he’d be too clingy

obviously, he enjoys spending time with you

but if you told him you need to go do work or something he wouldn’t throw a fit or pout

big q just seems like he’d be more rational about stuff like that

overall a 420/69 cuddle partner

dream:

one word: spooning

mans just envelops you and has no shame

very big: “no you are mine! >:(“ energy

while he’s sleeping he’ll unconsciously nuzzle his head into your hair/the back of your neck

when you guys got to bed patches usually climbs in and you hold her

i love patches so much i could write headcanons just about her

dream always wants to be cuddling you

if you try to leave he won’t pout, there simply isn't a discussion on whether you’re moving or not

incase you haven’t caught on yet, the answer is no

you need to do work? just bring the laptop to bed

he needs to edit? just sit in his lap at his desk, duh

obviously, he knows at some point you guys need to stop cuddling

he just isn’t too stoked about it

when it comes time where he absolutely can’t cuddle with you, i feel like he’d be more chill

mainly just annoyed

georgenotfound:

i feel like george, like quackity, also wouldn’t be too touchy

i’m pretty sure he has a hard time expressing emotions (please correct me if i’m wrong!!) and i think that would crossover to his sleeping habits

i think he would prefer a sort of back-to-back cuddling position

it seems cold, i know

but also he would most definitely kick at you

so every night while trying to go to sleep suddenly you would just feel *kick*

and then instead of sleep you’re suddenly playing footsie

lots of laughter and warm feelings involved

george would probably pretend that you kicked his leg hard or something and act like you hurt him

the first few times you were actually worried

but then after a few months your only response was a sarcastic “cry about it”

which just led to more laughter

sapnap:

sapnap and you would do a sort of leg hug thing

you both you try to go to sleep in a cute spooning-type position

but the moment one of you fell asleep it all unraveled

you would wake up apart but you’re legs would still be touching

sapnap would joking blame it on you

“wow can’t believe you don't wanna be close with me even when we’re asleep”

“it’s not my fault! i can’t control where i end up when i sleep!”

“no, no. you don’t have to lie. i see how it is.”

“>:(“

but it's okay!

your legs are the first thing to react in a flight-or-fight situation, so they usually react in an honest way

which is like your legs are both reaching to hold each other!

p!tommyinnit:

i don’t get a very touchy vibe from tommy

i feel like the most he would do is put his arm over your shoulder

not in a flirty way, just in a “hey, there isn’t a lot of space, this will make sitting down more comfortable” way

he will let you sorta fidget with his hand/arm

i don't know if that makes sense but what i mean is that he’ll pretty much let his arm go *flop* so you can control it (by like moving it around or playing with his fingers)

in the beginning he would get annoyed

but eventually he would get used to it and wouldn’t really care

it sounds a bit strange but i personally find it very comforting to just have something to fidget with while watching youtube or netflix in bed with my friends

and it’s entertaining (sometimes i do this to me sister to annoy her :>)

he would act like he didn’t mind if you left him

but holy shit he is so clingy

If you try to leave it’ll just be “no, why??? stay here dumbass”

you would be slightly annoyed when he had to leave  but knew he had to film and stream and all that so you would be okay

p!badboyhalo:

you would kinda sit within bad’s lap

like not on his lap, but more of in between his legs

he would have his arms around you

and his phone would be in front of you so you two could scroll through twt or instagram together

or you guys could watch skeppy’s youtube ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

rat would sit in your lap

she’s just;;;;;;;; so adorable

rat is just so soft and fuzzy in your lap and everytime you move to pet her she just melts

rat is the the superior cuddle buddy to any of these block people

p!skeppy:

skeppy, similar to quackity, is a total dork

he would make sure you guys were in a position where he could effectively troll you

so if your head was near his lap he would just flick you or some

“dude can you please stop hitting me in the head”

“it turns out i am not actually hitting you in your head because based on the perpendicularity of the bisector multiplied by the photosynthesis of the dividend, it is impossible for me to do so”

“wtf”

lya is so goddamn sick of you guys

she's trying to get him to actually do something but instead he’s just sitting there throwing paper airplanes at you while you sleep

he’s an annoying asshole but it's okay because he gives you money for absurd reasons

p!eret:

eret has such a comfortable presence

i feel like she wouldn’t be up for cuddling too much

more of like putting your head on a friends shoulder so you can see the tweet their showing you

but they do like to hold hands

holding hands isn’t very intimate but it's also just such a sweet comforting thing

she even holds your hand when you guys are out walking around

like if you guys were getting food somewhere (post-covid of course)

you most likely would get addressed as a couple

and he would just be like”...wut?”

it’s happened so many times at this point you just go along with it

“you guys look like such a cute couple!”

“oh we aren't-” “thank you!”

can you tell that i love eret?

p!philza:

phil always has such dad vibes

i feel like the closest he would get to cuddling is hugs and hand holding

even though cuddling isn’t inherently romantic, he is married to kristen

so i fell he would get most of his touch in with her

but with you he’s just so fatherly

hello dadza

whether you have a good or bad relationship with your father, everyone can admit that philza minecraft is dadza

this is such a dad thing, but tries to hold you hand when you cross the street

no matter the age, he just feels the need to protect you

hugs are similar

uses hugs as a way to comfort you and protect you

just so amazing all around

p!tubbo:

tubbo would love cuddling in any way, shape, or form

if you guys are hanging out at like the park or something and lying down

get ready to become this mans pillow

this is really fun to do with your friends but imagine you guys are hanging out in a field type area (with my friends we hand out in the field next to the cemetery but it can be any open grass area)

tubbo would just use your lap as a pillow the whole time

and when you guys were walking back to his house he would sorta drape his arms over your shoulders (assuming he’s taller than you)

he would do the same thing when you guys were sitting in chairs or at a desk

just drapes his arms over your shoulder with his chin on your head

if it's really late and he's tired he’ll just hug you

p!ranboo:

if you thought tubbo is bad, ranboo is even worse

not even really cuddling, he just likes having a sort of skin-to-skin contact

so handholding and laying on top of eachother

if he’s streaming he will legitimately message ou to just sit next to him

so sometimes if he’s just chilling by himself on the smp you’ll end up on his streams

he’ll have you next to him just because he likes be near someone

and so randomly it’ll just be like “chat, a real human is here, behave”

chat does not behave

(they heavily bully him)

he’s pretty clingy but when you HAVE to leave he’ll understand and just be a bit bummed out

holy shit this took me so long-

if you read this whole thing thank you!

[acapelladitty]

I’m really sorry this is a rough time of year for you - I hope you are doing okay 💖 If you feel up for it, for the prompts I was just wondering… how would dano!riddler react in a situation like when Crane found his witty girl getting attacked. Because physically, well he’s a bit useless ain’t he? 🤔 would he scream them away?!?! Love him though!

I'm not too sure! Let's see what happens 👀

Allowing the door of the diner to swing shut behind you, a breathy exhale showcases the chill of the night as your breath forms a soft plume before dissipating into the air.

"Cold?"

Turning to face Edward as he rubs his thick glasses with the edge of his frayed jacket, you shake your head gently.

"No, just enjoying the night."

Issuing a soft hum of agreement, his hand slips to your lower back as you fold your jacket in your arms and begin the short walk back to the apartment. The streets are surprisingly quiet and the scent of smoke is faint within the air; the remnants of an earlier fire which had broken out in a nearby music shop.

Arson.

Typical in this neighbourhood.

The alleyway which you both use as a shortcut is just as deserted as the main street. The broken paving of the ground uneven and marred by various bricks and wooden slats; the leftovers of an attempted building project long since abandoned.

Each step you take is mindful of the mess and you feel Edward's hand tighten on your back as he allows you to take the lead to guide you both through.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Edward comments in a low tone and you can hear the open sneer in his voice as he takes stock of the nearby garbage. "This cesspool of a city. One day..."

The faint sound of harsh tapping echoes within the alleyway and, as you turn to locate the source of the unusual noise, a low yelp of surprise breaks free of your throat as you see a dark figure standing just behind your position.

You are both too late to react as the flash of a curled fist cuts through the darkness and catches Edward unawares; the force of it enough to knock him flat on his back with an undignified grunt as he hits the ground hard.

Shock and fear grip at your chest as the dark figure, a thin balding man with a deep scar running across his forehead, stands over Edward's fallen body with a satisfied grin splitting his thin lips. His eyes are locked onto your own and you can feel the threat radiating from his casual demeanor.

"Saw you leaving the diner, baby, and it looked to me like you needed a real man." His voice is hoarse, dripping with sleaze, and his words send a fresh thrill of repulsion down your spine. "Don't worry though, you be nice to me and I won't have to hurt him any more? You get me?"

Quick as a whip, his hand breaks free of his jacket and grabs roughly at your hair. With a sharp pull, he forces your body to stumble backwards against the stone wall of the alleyway and your head connects against the hard surface with a painful gasp.

Your jacket falls from your grip and your hands scramble in the air as you mourn the loss of its meager protection. The smell of grease and cheap aftershave is strong and you yelp in pain as he once again pulls at your hair roughly.

His free hand tugs at the bottom of your shirt, freeing it from its tucked position and your breath comes in short, stuttering gasps as you shake your head in sheer panic.

"Be smart, bitch."

His words are a threat and a spark of hope arises in your chest as you watch Edward silently rise from his fallen position; his hand curled around one of the abandoned bricks he had been unfortunate enough to land on, as he raises it high in the air.

The crack of the brick as it connects with the man's skull is sickening and a spatter of something wet splashes across your cheek as your eyes squeeze shut. A cold sensation creeps down your spine as your back presses against the wall behind you with as much force as you can muster, a much needed distraction which gives you something to focus your panicking thoughts on.

A dense gurgle followed by a loud thump of a falling body assaults your ears but the gurgle is quickly cut off by another loud crack which makes your whole body flinch in position and your eyes tighten even further.

Deep breaths, interspersed by a distinctly feral growling, are now the only noises which your ears detect between the continued smacks of the brick on the fallen skull. Your fingers carve sharp crescents into your exposed forearms as you fight the insane urge to blindly reach down for your dropped jacket.

A squeak of fear breaks free of you as rough hands grip at your shoulders and you open your eyes to see Edward's face swimming before your vision. Blinking to focus, you are struck by the mess of his sandy hair as it plasters itself to his forehead and the splashes of red which are spattered between some of the strands.

Blood decorates his face like sanguine freckles and you bite back a retching tightness in your throat as the scent of copper hits your nose.

Madness radiates from his eyes; overshadowing the echoes of concern which lace his expression as he speaks to you in a hushed tone.

"You're okay. He got what he deserved and he won't hurt you any more." A manic giggle, escapes him as his bloodied fingers slip up to grasp at your face. "You would have thought a 'real man' would have put up more of a fight."

His grip on your face tightens and you whimper softly as your fingers come to rest on his wrists, the digits quickly growing wet as they disturb the blood there.

The noise and gentle touch seems to break through the mania of his kill and he blinks, his glasses acting as a barrier between you, and he comes back to himself.

"We need to leave." His words shift into an open harshness which is almost upset as he glances back at the mess he has left on the floor. "I'll take care of the evidence. Go and wait for me in the apartment."

Nodding numbly, you allow your body to work on autopilot as you slip free of his grip and continue the short journey to your shared apartment.

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and the pressure of them, plus the adrenaline which is still coursing through your body, makes you feel almost faint as you tremble in the cool air.

Edward killed a man.

He killed a man for you.

That small voice which saw the writing on the wall when it came to Edward and his plans was almost chastising as it made its point.

That man would have hurt you and then killed you both. Edward protected you and he did what he had to to make sure you were safe.

He is a murderer.

Then why aren't you afraid of him?

It was true. Despite the show of violence and his questionable reaction to it, your fear was not of Edward. It was of this city which allowed men like that brute to not only exist but to thrive.

Pushing the door of the apartment block open, the myriad of emotions which afflict you refuse to abate and you take a deep breath as you prepare for the fallout when Edward finally appears to join you.

Link to AO3