#kiss roulette

[ebongawk]

kiss prompt 42 would be super cute!

remiss to admit I already wrote this one and Tumblr glitched and deleted it so I hope it actually posts this time 🥲

42. A clumsy kiss

It was late.

Eddie was still laughing to himself, despite how fucked up it was that everyone had ditched to avoid helping with cleanup duties. Like, alright, maybe he'd gotten on a power trip and decided to kill off Jeff and Grant's characters during their second-to-last Hellfire meeting of his high school career.

So what?

It was their own goddamn fault, negging him at lunch today. So maybe he'd ditched their morning chill session after Chrissy stopped by to say hi and he followed her like a sick puppy in desperate need of attention.

Could he truly be blamed? It was Chrissy Cunningham.

And he was friends with her.

(Actually he was fucking head-over-feet crazy about her, thinking so endlessly of her and their weird, unexpected friendship that he'd drawn a picture of Sune, the goddess of beauty and love, and accidentally made her look exactly like Chrissy, but. Semantics.)

They should've anticipated the consequences. Was no small matter, giving the dungeon master shit when he held the fate of their characters in his notoriously ruthless hands.

But their total shock and disdain when he'd killed them? Hilarious.

As he swept up the endless Doritos crumbs from the theater room's wood floor, he laughed again at the memory of Jeff shouting so loud the acoustics carried his voice through the entire space and back.

Grant went full Pavarotti when his elven archer fell to the depths of the Underdark.

Served them right.

Still, they were dicks for not staying to take care of their own messes. The younger kids he understood – curfew to adhere to and all that – but Jeff, Grant, and Gareth had straight up left with loose excuses that they all knew were bullshit. And if the drama room was left untended over the weekend, Eddie was the only one that would be in hot water with Mrs. Thames, since he was the one she entrusted with the key.

A soft knock yanked him out of his aggressive sweeping, looking up just as Chrissy peeked her way through the ajar door. He'd forgotten that she stuck around tonight for junior varsity tryouts for the coming year.

"Oh, you are still here," she breathed. "I saw your van in the lot on my way out, but I wasn't sure if you were here or if you were in Principal Higgins' office doing something, um, untoward." She looked around as she stepped through the threshold, the door clicking shut behind her. "Where are the guys?"

See, that was the thing. Chrissy wasn't just friends with him. The entirety of Hellfire was fucking batty over her. So why did he get all the shit?

"They ditched," Eddie snorted as he swept the crumbs into a dustpan, emptying it into the garbage can he'd stolen from the janitor's closet.

Chrissy quirked a brow at him. "What'd you do?"

"Egads, Cunningham!" he shouted, slapping a hand over his heart as he staggered toward her. "Must I be at every fault in your judgmental eyes?"

"Not every fault." She hummed, leaning against the table. Eddie scoffed, grabbing a notebook to start notating where the minis were before tossing them in a storage box. "But this one seems a little obvious."

Eddie finished his scribbling quietly, mulling this over. He didn't have to be entirely honest.

"Alright, so maybe I killed Jeff." Chrissy gasped. "And Grant."

"Eddie!" Chrissy chastised. "How could you?"

"It's fine!" he cried. "They were so angry about it that they fucking forgot that Sinclair found the Hand of Kelemvor buried in that chest in the Shadowfell. He can use it to bring them back!" Eddie snorted. "Serves them right, though. They'll have to scrounge up new character sheets before next week that'll be entirely useless."

Hoisting herself onto the table after he'd haphazardly wiped it down, Chrissy cast him a critical eye.

"Wouldn't Lucas have to, um, sacrifice something to use that?" she asked.

This was still kinda novel to him. He and Chrissy had been friends for a while now, and when they first started hanging out, she asked him about his DnD stuff. Well, actually, she asked him to explain it to her to verify that it wasn't a cult, as her ex-boyfriend so stupidly believed, and then after that she just... kept asking how the story was going. What they'd done that week. Not only that, she retained it. Filing away little pieces of information and gasping when she later realized how they tied into the greater plot of the story.

"Are you really even interested in this stuff?" he'd asked at one point. She was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, feet tucked under his thigh as they ignored the small stack of homework and he recounted the previous day's campaign. "Or are you just humoring me?"

"I like it so much, Eddie," she'd replied around a soft smile. The one he fucking prayed was reserved just for him. "It's like you're writing this whole fantastical story just for me."

"Just for you, huh?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm the only one lucky enough to hear it."

"He will," Eddie verified Chrissy's inquiry. Leaning up against the table beside her and shrugging. "The deity he ascribes to is kind of temperamental. She'll probably ask for his life in exchange for theirs."

Chrissy gasped in horror.

"Eddie, that's awful!"

"It's necessary!" he cried in response, chuckling at her genuine astonishment. "Listen, we've all done it, okay? Before I became DM, I sacrificed myself twice for the greater good. Gareth has lost three characters, and Grant and Jeff have both lost one. The younglings have played it too safe up 'til now, in my opinion. It's about time they accept that which they cannot control: change."

Chrissy blinked, her lips parted as she looked at him.

"It comes for us all, Cunningham," he said, his voice softer. Gaze dropping around a forced chuckle. "No matter how much we wish it wouldn't sometimes."

And that–– that was entirely too fucking revealing.

It was something they hadn't quite discussed, really. What they were going to be when she was off working her way through her scholarships in Portland and Eddie was who-fucking-knew doing God-knows-what away from this shitty ass town.

Honestly, he kinda figured she'd forget about him. This little stint of friendship had maybe opened her up to not judging books by their covers, if she ever had (Eddie knew she hadn't), but once they were no longer convenient, he figured he'd just become a fond memory for her. A soft little smile as she flipped through her yearbook in the coming decades.

A past she was happy to move on from.

Whether that made him want to kick his own teeth in was completely inconsequential.

"Change isn't always bad," she said, her own voice having dropped to a whisper. "Is it?"

He let his eyes drift back to hers. Meeting the determined storms he could see swirling there.

But he didn't have a chance to answer.

Because she was surging toward him, eyes scrunched closed, and he knew, he knew what she was trying to do, but she completely overestimated her aim. Lips landing clumsily on the small stretch of skin between his upper lip and nose, and her own nose mashed painfully just under his eye, making him wrench himself backward with a grunt.

"Oh–– Oh my God––"

"Aw, fuck."

"Oh, God, Eddie, I'm so––" Hands covering her mouth, she looked horrified all over again for an entirely different reason. "I-I'm so sorry, oh my God, did I hurt you?"

"It's alright––"

"No, it isn't, oh my gosh! This is so mortifying, God––"

"Hey––"

"I'm so sorr––"

"Hey," he said, wrapping one hand around her wrists and easing them down. "Chrissy. It's alright." She still looked entirely humiliated, and Eddie couldn't help but laugh. "I mean, as long as you–– Did you–– Were you–– Uh. Were you trying to kiss me?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, Chrissy let out a little trembling laugh herself.

"Trying being the operative word, I guess," she replied shakily. "I... I mean, nuggets, Eddie, I've wanted to kiss you for ages. And then, that whole thing with change and stuff, I thought, maybe this could be a good change. For us, you know? Because I just–– I like you so much, and––"

That was enough.

Cupping her cheek with his free hand, Eddie took the lead. Gently pulling her in, the little furrow between her brow not registering his intention until he was pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. Cutting off whatever apology she was likely to spew next with a little gasp that he greedily swallowed down.

He pulled back the tiniest bit, and Chrissy was quick to close the distance again. Extracting her wrists from his grip so she could wrap her arms around his shoulders.

She tasted like the wild freedom of his feelings for her. This endless stretching of wilderness, trees and foliage entangled with meadows of wildflowers that grew without reservation. Sprawling landscapes that infiltrated his very being, until she'd suffused herself into every blade of grass and knob of dirt that had sprouted within him.

It was fucking insane, how well his hand fit in the curve of her waist. How easily his lips molded against hers. How good and right and natural it felt to have her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his scalp.

"Good change," he acknowledged easily when they finally broke apart for air. The little giggle she let out washed across his lips, lingering on his tongue with the yellow sunshine happiness of his wooded being.

"Amazing change," she agreed before leaning in to kiss him again.

kiss roulette!

[dutifullylazybread]

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh for kiss roulette 25 (kiss that's an accident) would be really fun, especially if it's pre-relationship

I am so sorry it took me so long to answer your ask! I'm so happy I could post this (a day after) Valentine's day!!

I hope you enjoy!

Rolan x f!Tav - Accidental Kiss

Content warnings: Accidental kiss, over the clothes groping, under the clothes groping.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Tav glanced over her shoulder. Rolan stood in the doorway, his yellow eyes bright and his silver mantle gleaming in the moonlight. His tail, usually snapping a peeved beat behind him, swayed to and fro as he approached her.

She rubbed her arms, desperately trying to pull some warmth back into her frame. Of all the things the Shadow-Cursed Lands needed to be, cold was absolutely not one of them. She would tolerate the zombies and the wraiths and the life-sapping curse… but did it have to be so damn frigid?

It didn’t help that the Last Light Inn sat on the riverbank--though Tav wasn’t improving on the situation by lingering on the second floor’s outdoor dining area.

“Did you need something?” she asked Rolan. She leaned against the stone railing, taking in the fellow as he paused beside her. Rolan looked out on the river, his posture pensive. He flicked his tail, cutting at the air with its barbed tip.

“I mostly came out here to ask you why my money isn’t good enough for you to take,” he said with a snobbish lilt to his voice—one that he further accentuated by turning his nose upwards.

Tav quirked a brow at him. “Careful how much you flare your nostrils—a bug might try to make its home in one of them.”

He scoffed. “Cute.” The curl of his lip indicated that he found her comment anything but endearing. “That, however, fails to answer my question.”

“Is it so hard to just accept that I helped you and your family without needing a reward?” she asked. The stone railing bit into her hip, but she still relaxed into it.

Rolan turned to face her. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You expect me to believe that you didn’t have any ulterior motives? None at all?”

“You can think whatever you like,” she said with a shrug. “I’m still not taking your money.”

He glared at her. “I take it that you intend on wringing a favor out of me then? Your wizard companion was quite interested in me introducing the lot of you to Master Lorroakan when you reached the city.” Condescension practically rolled off of him.

He braced one hand on the rail—Tav was vaguely aware of how the stone seemed to shudder with the added weight.

She disregarded it.

No, she was more keen on setting the record straight.

“Gale wanted to meet Lorroakan, yes,” she said. “I’m content to never put a face to the name.”

“I don’t believe—“

“Rolan.”

He paused, his lips still shaping his rebuttal.

“I care about you,” she said. “And I care about your brother and your sister.”

She laid a hand on his elbow, half expecting him to pull away.

He didn’t.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Tav said. “I didn’t do any of this to prove a point to you or to them or anyone else for that matter. I just…”

“Just what?” The demanding edge in his tone had softened to an impatient query.

She exhaled softly, preparing herself for a cutting dismissal. “I… I see how the three of you laugh together. How you joke and rib and bicker. And… it reminds me of how I used to talk with my family when they were alive.”

Rolan’s eyes widened.

Tav pressed forward. “I only have memories,” she continued, “and as time has passed, those have faded. I… I don’t even remember what my mother’s voice sounded like. I most certainly don’t remember my father’s laugh.” She swallowed the salt-thick lump forming in her throat. It stuck in her chest. “It’s silly and it’s sentimental and ridiculous and it very likely makes me a bleeding heart of a person… but if I can make sure that you have more than memories, even if it’s just for a little longer, then I will.”

A chilled wind stirred the trees beyond the moonlight-cast barrier that enclosed the inn and its grounds. Tav shivered, drawing away to rub warmth back into her arms.

She waited for Rolan to say something—anything. He’d have some acidic remark to make, she was sure.

But… nothing came.

She didn’t know what was worse—the silence or the promise of a biting reply.

Rolan’s eyes glowed a pale yellow in the moonlight.

“I… am grateful,” he said slowly, “that you would risk your life for us. Thank you.”

The ghost of a smile skirted across her mouth. “You thanked me once already.”

He huffed a laugh. “That I did. Well, I suppose I can manage one more—one good turn deserves another after all.”

The tension left Tav’s frame. “Your altruism knows no bounds,” she teased.

And, to her pleasant surprise, Rolan broke into a grin.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

She’d always thought that he was dashing—even while he was scowling. But when he smiled so genuinely and without restraint? Tav couldn’t put words to how lovely he was.

And then, as she rested the brunt of her weight against the rail, her attentions fully devoted to Rolan… the sickening sound of stone fracturing and crumbling caused her to tense.

And the rail, buckling as it tumbled away, sent her lurching out into empty air.

Tav grasped Rolan’s arms, whose gaze remained trained on her face—on her lips. He seemed almost oblivious to the risk at hand… and more intent on closing the space between them.

He took a step towards her, setting her further off kilter, and as Tav desperately plucked at the strands of the Weave, urging it to slow her descent to the ground below, Rolan kissed her—

—only to find himself dragged off the veranda, falling with Tav.

Tav held Rolan close, one hand pressed to the crown of his head as she urged the Weave to buoy them up, to make them as light as feathers knocked loose from a wing.

Were it not for her heart slamming in her chest, she would have suspected that the spell had emptied her insides, leaving her as hollow as the core of a bird's bone.

Their fall slowed from a plummet to a smooth, steady glide.

They were deposited into one of the hedges running the length of the inn, and their combined weight returned, crushing the dead brush beneath them.

“Are you hurt?” Tav asked Rolan. His face was pressed to the crook of her neck—were it not for his tail slicing an agitated tempo into the air, she wouldn’t have known anything was amiss.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. Rolan drew up, his cheeks a heady wine red. He tried to rise to his feet, but dried branches held him fast, their thorns snagging into his robes. “Zurgan!”

He thrashed about, which served to only entangle him deeper into the hedge and draw him down against Tav.

“Stop laughing,” he snapped.

Tav pushed her mouth into her palm. “Sorry.” She smothered a small giggle.

Rolan glared at her. “I suppose that this is all rather amusing to you?”

“Getting caught in a bush together? Well, it is a little funny.” She shrugged, and the spindly branches held her fast in place, digging into her exposed skin and raising welts. “But I imagine that isn’t the whole of what you’re referring to, is it?”

Rolan’s mouth snarl twisted up into a grimace. “The kiss--that was a… foolish misunderstanding,” he said. “I would appreciate it if you treated this entire ordeal, including my momentary misstep, as an accident. And I would beg your forgiveness.”

As much as she wanted to tease him, as easy as it would be with him all but disheveled and pinned in place on top of her to easily reach for a well-placed, and very suggestive, comment, the mortification was written clear on Rolan’s features.

She didn’t want to be cruel.

But she also didn’t want her affections to go wholly unknown either. After all, there was the distinct possibility that, once they were out of this bind, Rolan would retreat into hiding and she would see neither hide nor hair of him when she reached the city.

Tav bit her lower lip, searching for the proper words. “No apologies are necessary,” she said. “It was an accident, after all.”

The tension left Rolan—marginally.

Tav pressed forward to say. “Though… I wouldn’t have been upset if the kiss was entirely intentional.”

His eyes widened and the intense flush of red returned to his cheeks. “I—what? That is to say—“ He sharply cleared his throat. “You—you’re mocking me. I think it goes without saying that I—“

She tugged on the front of his robes, drawing him down so that she could gently press her lips to his cheek. The warmth emanating off of him was utterly delicious, and it was so tempting to let her mouth linger.

But she laid down, settling back into the bed of dead foliage. She couldn’t exactly free herself until Rolan got off of her…

…and he was frozen in place.

He opened his mouth only to close it again, caging a strangled sound in his throat. His eyes were bright with confusion…

…but was there something else caught in the facets of his stare?

Tav wondered.

He cupped the line of her jaw in his shaky hand.

“You…” he whispered, the yellow of his gaze warming to a honey gold, “are impossible. Infuriating. Impulsive.” He huffed softly. “And I’m still the bigger fool of the two of us.”

And he pressed his lips to hers.

At first, his kiss was soft, tentative. And so warm.

As the darkness pressed in upon them, as the curse threatened to snuff out this one pocket of light, and as a cold breeze lifted off of the river and stroked a finger down Tav’s spine, she found herself set alight by Rolan’s touch.

She whispered his name, and he swallowed it.

Try as they may to be slow, furtive even, it took one well-placed moan from Tav and a smothered whimper from Rolan before they were grabbing at each other’s clothes—he pushed his hands under her shirt while she tangled one of hers in his hair and palmed his cock through his trousers with her other. He moved into her touch, rolling his hips. The bush shuddered and crackled around them, swaying with their movements.

“Gods,” one of them whispered—or perhaps neither of them did? They didn’t particularly care.

Rolan’s lips were hard on hers, as if he wanted her to remember how he felt against her when they finally parted. His breath was hot. His soft gasps were honey-sweet. She was content to lose herself in his touch.

But their reverie was cut short by the sound of a door flying open and slamming into stone.

“Hurry! I heard it come from over here”

Tav’s eyes snapped open.

Shit—of course someone would have heard a stone rail break.

And here they were, tangled up in a hedge.

“Rolan, we need to move,” Tav hissed. She pushed against his shoulders, but instead of prising himself free, he dug into his spell components pouch.

“Just a moment,” he murmured.

“Rolan—“

Invisibilis

The spell unfurled itself, cloaking them in a shifting illusion.

Though she could still feel the comforting weight of Rolan on top of her, all she could see was the moonlit sky. Her hands, once braced flat on his chest, were gone as well—as was the rest of her body.

Two Harpers rounded the corner, looking around for the source of the disturbance. And then, with slow and assured steps, Jaheira followed several paces behind.

“I could have sworn I heard something,” a Harper insisted, her eyes catching on the bush before shifting to the chunks of crumbling rail that, were strewn about it. “Was it the…”

“It is an old building,” Jaheira said. “Isobel’s magic may protect us from the curse, but natural decay? Not so much.”

“Better safe than sorry,” the second Harper said, patting their comrade’s arm.

Jaheira was silent. She looked to the broken rail on the veranda above before her trailing her gaze down to the somewhat flattened hedge below. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth quirked.

“I’d rather too much caution than too little—especially after Marcus attacked,” she said. “Get back to your posts for now. Keep your wits about you.”

The Harpers moved past Jaheira, who remained a moment more before she, too, departed.

With a shaky exhale, Rolan’s spell fell away. His eyes were bright with relief.

“That was awfully close,” Tav said, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing.

He rolled his eyes. “Far be it from me to protect our dignity.”

She pushed herself up and planted a kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering. “You know… there is a loft over the forge. Shall we make our way there? Pick up where we left off?”

“Even after—why am I not surprised?” Rolan snorted.

“Is that a no?”

“Hardly.”

Rolan wrenched himself free from the bush, its thorns snagging in his robes and its limbs snapping like kindling as he drew away. “Well, are you coming?”

For all his bluster, he offered Tav his hand and, as she rose, he freed her from the hedge’s grasp.

“Thank you,” she said.

In the moonlight, she wasn’t quite certain, but she could have almost sworn that he blushed, his cheeks burning a wine-dark red.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the staircase mounted to the side of the forge. “That the way?”

Tav nodded, weaving her fingers between his. “Shall we?”

They would have liked to think that they managed to keep their voices down while enjoying each other’s company.

They were wrong.

[glassrowboat]

🎲 I am always one for enabling

One Kiss, Blue Fish. Furina.

Prompt: 4. A kiss atop the head

Word count: 900+

One kiss for her, one kiss for the little gold colored statuette. A habit now so ingrained into your routine as keys pressed into your palm on your way out the door that it was simply instinct to lean down for both of them. Even after the first layer of golden plating started to wear down and revealed a greenish hue beneath.

Oxidation. Something you have had the chance to grow familiar with as the old statues of dogs in the park tucked away between the building of the capital, all beared proof of their noses being scratched and petted. The sight of it alone had you shaking your head, a smile always fighting to turn your lips up ever so slightly.

This habit had all started from a single joke. One comment, that's all it took after Furina had brought home the mini version of her (err- or the Hydro Archon that she was) that now turned to being part of your daily life.

Your fingers had been gliding over the reward as you heard her debating over what to do with it after coming home. Her gloved fingers clutched onto it in a way that failed to hide how they shook just from the sight of the thing alone.

To place it proud and center on the mantle, she pondered. Maybe even bury it away in the guestroom that you only ever used once. Long forgotten after Furina had grown accustomed to sharing a bed with you. Or, simply, toss it out like it was trash?

To that, a startled and over dramatized gasp left you. Hand to your chest to truly sell that bit of how hurt you were at such an appalling suggestion. “You would dare toss the image of my lover in the garbage?”

So, after your ploy of pretending it mattered more to you that it truly did and a spat that was more playful than anything, you placed the mini Furina on the mantle. Tall and proud. Placing a kiss to its little head, you had turned back to her, a cheeky smile on your lips.

A habit set in stone from there on.

One a certain someone clearly wasn't a fan of as her cheeks were puffed out, and a pout graced her features just like that day.

“If you're just going to give out two kisses, you might as well give the second one to me too.” She insisted, head turned away from you as she held up her nose.

It spoke levels about how comfortable she was with you. Willing to give attitude and sass she would normally be afraid anyone else would look at and think of the Hydro Archon she once represented. But there was no need for that here. Not with you.

“That so?”

Taking a strand of hair, that same one that stuck up in the air no matter how much she tried to tame it in the mornings, you twirled it around your finger. The shades of blue and white were almost hypnotizing to watch even when her head bounced up and down to nod.

“Yes! It only makes sense you would give me, your lover, your affection instead of that thing.”

“Now, now, my little mermaid.” You teased as her gaze fell on the golden trophy, eyes surely puncturing the cheap plating covering it. “I can give you two kisses from here on out if you really want.”

Her small little giggle filled the air, seeming appeased with this outcome. For now.

“And I'll give the little replica two on the way out, too.”

She called your name, a high-pitched whine that accompanied her tugging ever so slightly on your sleeve. The way she always said that truly did capture your attention, more so than anyone else who's ever used it before as you bent down to her height.

Eye to eye as you asked “yes?”

“If that's what you're so intent on doing, then you'll have to give me three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Wrapping your arms around her waist, the frills of her outfit tickled your arms as she moved in a little closer. The shuffle of her heels heard on the hardwood floor as Furina moved into your hold. “But of course, three kisses.”

If it makes her happy, then it's more than worth it.

“Then take this from the top."

Furina grabbed your keys off the mantle, pulling them away from the statuette you placed them next to when she had first called for your attention. Rattling in her hand as she placed them in yours.

“All the way from the top? Next thing you know, there will be a clapperboard telling me when I can and can't start helping you bathe.”

“T-that’s not important right now.”

Before she could pull away, to hide her blushing cheeks behind a false attitude and layers of hair she hoped would block her face away, you pressed your lips to her hairline. The perfume Neuvillette gifted her after her departure from the Palais Mermonia, only welcoming your touch even more.

Drawing your in closer as you muttered “one kiss, two kiss, three kiss,” with every peck to her forehead. Only a small part of you is resisting the urge to continue teasing her and say ‘red fish, blue fish’ to finish your little poem.

Alas, that can wait another day.

Just like how tomorrow you plan to give three kisses to the statuette just to see Furina pitch another fit.

[cyraclove]

Kiss prompt #25 😊

I got THREE requests for this one !! tysm 🩵

25. A kiss that’s an accident

“Of course I remember,” Chrissy says with a bashful smile. “We were at camp.”

“God. You gave me this… this look afterwards,” Eddie says with a hoarse chuckle, shaking his head. “I wanted to throw myself into the lake.”

Chrissy scoffs a laugh.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You scrunched up your little nose. Like this,” Eddie says as he demonstrates. “Like you’d just kissed a toad or something.”

“I did not!”

“Uh, yeah. You sure did.”

“Well, it was weird! I’d never kissed a boy before,” Chrissy reminds him. “I guess I thought it’d be… I don’t know, different.”

“Hey, I get it. I’m sure I was a shit kisser at twelve,” Eddie grins, wide and wonderful.

And then, “I’ve gotten better at it, I swear.”

There’s a soft beat.

Chrissy hadn’t realized just how close she and Eddie had gotten, her hand resting right next to his on the carpet.

Her chest tightens, the air around them thrumming with an unspoken longing.

Chrissy lets go of a shaky exhale, her breath mingling with Eddie’s as the bridge of his nose meets hers.

She feels his ringed fingers ghost along her knuckles, the brush of his skin sending a shivery snap right through her.

“Chrissy,” Eddie breathes, “do you—“

“Yes,” Chrissy whispers, and his lips are on hers.

It’s sweet and earnest, like he is. Like the Eddie only she knows; her best friend. It’s not urgent or demanding, just gentle and soft.

His tongue, though. His tongue takes and teases and coaxes her lips apart, slipping past her teeth.

Chrissy moans into Eddie’s mouth as their tongues drag against each other, a familiar throb between her legs.

God, it’s been so long.

Even if sex with Jason wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be, it had been connection. The warmth of another body pressed against hers; an ease to that endless, empty ache inside of her.

Eddie’s hand slides to Chrissy’s waist and she arches into his touch. His thumb skims the side of her breast and Chrissy shudders, a needy little sound in her throat.

“Shit,” Eddie curses, “Shit, Chris, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“No,” Chrissy breathes, grabbing his hand before he can take it away. “Please.”

KISS ROULETTE!

[abyssalmermaiden]

Ok consider, aryaille and thancred, combo of 40 and 43

40. An impulsive kiss + 43. A bloody kiss

YOU'RE SO RIGHT

I fear I need to draw it to fully do this concept justice the way it was in my head but-

slightly alternate timeline where Thancred experiences a sudden and severe feeling of "we might actually die here"

kiss roulette

[this-is-krikkit]

Hello Kit

May I request 'a kiss on the cheek' from the kiss roulette prompts you reblogged months ago? For Levihan as kids.

Feel free to ignore this, of course, but if you decide to write something: thank you 🩷

Kiyoshi, hey, i hope you're doing well! ♥️

thank you for this request, i think this might be breaking my record time between receiving a prompt and posting it (in a good way this time since it's been, what 28 hours since you sent this? i am so proud of myself here hehehe)

anyway, enjoy your kiss roulette kid levihan fic ♥️

summer has come and passed

word count: 2.2k characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë, Kuchel Ackerman, Hange Zoë's Mothers additional tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Summer Vacation, Kid Levihan, Fluff, Angst, She/Her Pronouns for Hange Zoë, that's right hange zoë's motherS, 2025 is the year i write lesbians into every headcanon/AU i can apparently, POV Levi Ackerman summary: Is there anything worse than the end of a vacation, and having to say goodbye to your summer friends?

The wind was blowing harder and colder than it had in the past three weeks, announcing the end of summer and the upcoming return to school that always accompanied Levi’s autumns. The air tasted like the salt of the nearby ocean and that second ice cream Hange and him would get that they would regret asking for after the first bite —that they would eat anyway because neither of them wanted to be scolded for biting off more than they could chew— and lingered, nauseatingly bitter on Levi’s tongue like that time Hange had missed his face and pulverized sunscreen into his mouth instead.

He looked on as the adults of the Zoë family wrapped up their travel arrangements, putting all of their belongings in order in the conversion van that Hange had proudly explained her mothers had fixed up together years ago, that made up their little house on wheels she had been so happy to invite him in for tea a few times over.

“I guess I’ll see you soon, Levi!” She said, bringing him back from his quiet observation and to the sour conversation he knew had to take place now.

“You won’t see me anytime soon,” he reasoned.

It felt like a giant hand wrapped around him and squeezed something in his chest as he realized, this was one of the last time he would have to be the one reasoning her.

Hange was smart, so abnormally smart she knew a lot of things Levi was convinced even his schoolteacher didn’t know; but she knew so much she sometimes seemed to forget things everyone else didn’t have a problem keeping in mind.

Like the fact that after she would climb into that bright orange van and let it drive her away to God knew where, Levi would —after the couple of nights he still had here— go back home, thousands of kilometers away from here, and more importantly, from her.

👉 keep reading on ao3

+ divider source

[materassassino]

a DinLuke kiss for either 30, 24 or 9 please 👀

This meanders like hell but they really were not cooperating with this.

Kiss roulette!

---

30 - A kiss to the palm of the hand

It is their third mission.

They work well together, once they get over their initial standoffishness. Din keeping his guard up, still wary of this man he trusted to once train his child, and Luke maintaining that impenetrable, aloof façade last only until the end of the first mission, when they are trapped and that distance might kill them. They make it out, and something shifts.

Luke smiles more, wider, more glittering things. Din talks more, allowing himself to be drawn into actual conversation. Small, concentric shifts that surprise the both of them.

Their second mission is seamless, goes off without a hitch: the Imps are too terrified by the presence of Luke Skywalker for anything but gibbering surrender, which Din is grateful for.

But then their third mission is the complete opposite.

The intel was faulty, there were numbers at the facility two men alone, even with one of them a nigh-omnipotent Jedi master, could never have dreamt of dealing with. They should be attacking this place with a squadron, a whole army, not two men and an astromech.

They have to cut their losses, run limping away to lick their wounds. Din’s going to kick Carson Teva’s ass for this one. As they run for their ship, Luke turns, throws his hands up. There are stormtroopers swarming towards them, an unstoppable white tidal wave of idiot true believers, and Luke digs into the Force to throw them back. He tries to wrench the blast doors closed, gets pretty far, there’s a sliver left between them…

And for once, a stormtrooper actually has good aim.

The blaster bolt goes right through Luke’s right hand, making him yell in pain. Din stares as he cradles it, teeth gritted, and he has to haul Luke away, back to their borrowed ship, depositing him with perhaps less gentleness than the moment would warrant into the co-pilot seat, but he’s desperate to get them off this kriffing moon.

He deftly dodges laser cannon fire, working the engines to screaming point to get them away as fast as possible. A retreat is, of course, dishonourable, but Din’s run from more overwhelming odds than he’d care to count at this point. He has a kid to take care of, so sue him. Once the rippling blue of hyperspace is around them, on course back to Nevarro, he whirls in his seat, hands reaching for Luke but not daring to touch, hovering weirdly.

Luke unfolds from himself with less of a pained moan and more of an inconvenienced sigh. Din watches him peel back his single glove with a grimace, to reveal a smouldering hole. Thank the manda Din’s helmet has filters, otherwise he’s certain the smell of charred flesh would be nauseating.

“That’s another one gone,” Luke grumbles, holding it up.

Din stares. “What do you mean ‘another one’?”

Luke turns his hand so the palm is facing Din. Din winces, but then he realises something. There’s no horrid sight of burnt flesh, but rather the snapped wires and broken servos of a prosthetic. Din stares some more, before sinking into his seat in relief.

Just a prosthetic. No horrendous, life-altering injury. Well… not a recent one, anyway.

Luke pokes at his own fingers, frowning. They don’t even twitch, the only movement left all in his wrist. Din sits up straight again, eyeing it. He wants to reach for it, study it, hold it gently. He blinks the thoughts away.

“How…?” He doesn’t know how to finish. Luke has never not answered a question from him, but he knows he’s being incredibly rude. “No, forget it…”

Luke looks up. “Oh. Uh… during the War.” His face is tight, pinched, something haunted in his eyes. It’s not a face Din has ever seen him wear. “I kriffed up, badly.”

“I’m sorry,” Din says, but Luke shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.” He manages to hitch on a smile, something reassuring. “I’ll just need to go to Chandrila for a new one.”

That’s not what Din meant, but he doesn’t know how to correct Luke without making it worse.

“Can you not fix it?” he asks instead. Luke shakes his head.

“I’m a mechanic, but this is a little beyond me. It’s fried. Plus the synthskin needs replacing as well.”

Din nods. He knows Luke can probably fly his X-Wing perfectly well one-handed, but still… he can’t keep the worry from gnawing at him. He gazes at Luke, who has slumped into his seat now. He looks exhausted, truth be told, and Din feels the same, now the adrenaline is fading. He wants to sleep for about seven business days.

They travel on in silence, a rare thing for Luke, the both of them wrapped in their own thoughts for a long while. Din loses track of time as his eyelids grow heavy. They can afford to sleep until they get to Nevarro, he’s certain no one is giving chase, and he folds his hands over his sternum. They could have died, back there. Even with all Luke’s skill and power and his own experience, they came dangerously, terrifyingly close. Who would take care of Grogu? His gut twists sickeningly.

And he hates the way Luke stopped, putting his very unarmoured self between Din and a horde of stormtroopers, lightsaber disengaged. As if Luke was expendable. His gut twists again, some cold horror clawing itself up his throat, his heart thudding. What if? What if? His fist clenches on the armrest and he looks at Luke.

“Hey, Luke?” he says.

Luke hums, just enough of a reply that Din knows he’s still awake.

“Don’t… don’t try shit like that again,” he says. Luke opens his eyes, though they droop heavily, and he frowns.

“Like what?” he asks.

“I’m the one wearing the beskar,” Din says. “Let me take the hits.”

Luke blinks at him, then smiles, something sleepy and pleasant and something stutters in Din’s chest, something winged the colour of sunlight. He swallows.

“I can’t promise that,” he says, and that makes Din scowl.

“Are all Jedi this foolish?” he grumbles. Luke shrugs.

“I don’t know, I’m the only one.”

Another twist within Din, his heart aching. He isn’t fully in control of himself when he leans over, working almost on autopilot. He reaches out, his hand perhaps trembling ever-so-slightly, and takes Luke’s left.

“Then perhaps side-by-side would be a compromise?” he says. Luke looks down at his hand and Din’s, and back up again. Din sees his throat bob, swallowing just like Din did earlier.

“That could work,” he replies, his voice slightly hoarse in a way that makes Din’s heart stutter again, stop-start-stop-start, out of rhythm. He leans forward, tipping his helmet up, and kisses Luke’s palm. He hears Luke’s breath hitch, feels his hand quiver, his fingers twitch. Din rubs circles with his thumb where his lips just touched, feeling mystified by his own bravery.

“Good,” he replies, replacing his helmet. “We’re a team.”

[ladylucksrogue]

Hi! Could I ask for foxiyo with 24 - a sleepy kiss pls??? ❤️

Thank you so much for the ask! I was super excited about this one. Hope you like it!

Riyo was absorbed in her messages on her datapad, losing track of time until her eyes widened, realizing just how much time had passed since Fox had arrived at her apartment.

She hadn’t seen him in two days, an all-too-common occurrence given his long shifts, the endless emergencies on Coruscant, and her own hectic schedule. They often went days without seeing each other.

Normally, she would drop everything the moment he walked through the door, jumping into his arms and kissing him senseless. But she had an important debate the next day, and she was stuck in endless rewrites. So when the door opened, she barely glanced up, knowing it had to be him, no one else had her codes.

His familiar red and white armor and the dark visored helmet, which she’d initially found intimidating, were now a comforting sight. He looked exhausted as he removed the helmet, but he smiled, the smile only she ever saw.

She had  assured him she’d be right with him, and he said he was just going to change. That was an hour ago.

Riyo got to her feet, heart pounding as she made her way to the bedroom, the room she shared with Fox whenever they found time. The lamp was on, the light low and warm. It was a compromise: she liked to read in bed, but the overhead lighting often aggravated Fox’s headaches. The lamp was just low enough not to bother him.

His armor was neatly stacked. She moved into the room and spotted him. He was lying on the bed, on his stomach, head turned to the side on the pillow, dressed only in a pair of briefs. Her worry faded as she saw him breathing, heard his light snores. His exhaustion had gotten the better of him. He had probably intended to take a short rest but had instead fallen asleep.

Her heart warmed, seeing his peaceful face, and she didn’t have it in her to wake him.

She quietly made her way back to the living room, gathered her datapad, and went through her routine before joining him in bed.

She pulled the soft blanket over him and settled back on her pillows, intending to delve back into her speech on her datapad when he moved without opening his eyes, somehow knowing she was there. His hand reached out, finding her leg, his calloused fingers gentle as he stroked a thumb over her skin and let out a sigh.

She leaned in, her hand finding his cheek, pressing her forehead against his. His eyes flickered open, dark and hazy with sleep. Her lips met his, and she smiled as he responded to the kiss, his lips moving against hers almost lazily.

“You should sleep,” he muttered.

“I will,” she assured him. She would, after she was done.

“Come lay down,” he whispered.  He was hard to resist like this.

Despite all she had to do, Riyo set the datapad aside. She turned, curling against him, her back to his chest as his arm wrapped around her. It took them a minute to settle, and she melted into his warmth. She felt him nuzzle against her hair, plant a series of sleepy kisses on her neck, and she squeezed his hand.

He was right. Sleep was more important, especially like this.

[angel-baby479]

for the kiss roulette, consider elitello and 34 👀

Eli’s a biter but will only do it to people he really likes- do with that info what u will lmao

kiss roulette ask game

[talshiargirlfriend]

🎲4. A kiss to the top of the head

plz and thx 😁

Yay it’s kiss roulette time!

Despite his expressions of confidence in the face of T’Pol’s misgivings, Trip had also been a little apprehensive about this visit. So far, so good, even if he missed the distracting presence of Bert and Owen and of course Earth’s greatest human buffer, Miguel Salazar. Trip’s brother-in-law could keep any conversation going smoothly; he was charm incarnate. It was a skill Trip envied.

People often described Trip as charming, but he wasn’t too sure about that. As far as he could tell he was just genuinely interested in other people and in possession of a streak of mischief.

After an uneventful dinner, Charlie, Elaine, Trip and T’Pol moved to the living room with coffee. As each couple settled onto a sofa, a pair of black and white cats strolled in to investigate the situation.

“Who are these pretty babies? I wasn’t sure you would get another cat after…” Trip trailed off and put his hand down for the cats to sniff.

“Well,” Charlie said. “Our pets can’t stay with us as long as we’d like, but I’ve never regretted a moment of loving one of them.” He cleared his throat. Elaine blinked rapidly and looked away.

Trip could feel T’Pol’s eyes on him. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“That’s Princess Isabel and the Lady Lilith. Izzy and Lily,” Elaine filled in. Izzy retreated to curl up on the back of his parents’ sofa while Lily sniffed Trip’s hand before turning her nose up at him in a look of feline disdain.

“Don’t be offended. She doesn’t really like anyone but me. Bit like your dad here,” Elaine teased.

As if in defiance the dainty cat rubbed her face against T’Pol’s leg. To Trip’s surprise the animal was rewarded with a gentle scratch behind the ears before she trotted off to curl up on his mama’s lap.

Elaine stroked the cat fondly in greeting. “Well, you like the ladies of the family, Lil. That’s a start. I’m sure these Tucker boys will grow on you.”

“They have a tendency to do so,” T’Pol agreed softly. Trip smirked and bumped his knee against hers affectionately.

The Elizabeth-shaped holes were still there - they would always be there - but they felt a little less… jagged. The gaps somehow formed an integral part of the overall structure.

The evening continued in a similarly pleasant fashion, as the four of them conversed comfortably on topics varying from needlework to neutrinos while the cats snored softly in the background.

Eventually, Charlie let out a jaw-cracking yawn and slapped his hands against his thighs, “Well, that’s my cue to hit the hay.”

Elaine leaned over for a kiss, “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Charles.”

He stood to make his way out, pausing behind the sofa where his son and de facto daughter-in-law sat.

“Goodnight, kids.”

He leaned down and kissed Trip on the crown of his head as he had done countless times before. He then did the same to T’Pol before continuing out of the room. T’Pol’s eyes went wide in surprise before she swiftly recovered her composure.

Trip bit back a smile and made eye contact with his mom. In unison each gave the other a subtle head shake, clearly communicating “Don’t say anything, you’ll embarrass them” before breaking into matching grins.

His heart felt lighter than it had in years.

—

I considered an angsty little Similitude interlude, but I settled on fluff. As the reigning empress of TnT fluff, I hope this will meet with your approval! 😅 Thanks for the ask!

[deklo]

impulsive bluesey kiss!! ♡

not pictured: gansey immediately dying rip

[ebongawk]

kiss 17 and or 18 for hellcheer

18. A kiss while laughing

🖤🖤 .

"Did you end up canceling your reservation then, Nance?"

"No," Nancy groaned before sucking up the last few dredges of her drink. She rolled her neck back, covering her face with both hands. "I've had these reservations for three months, and I was praying Jonathan would be better in time. Instead, he's hacking up new ecosystems into our entire life savings' worth of Kleenex."

"Bummer," Robin sighed, stirring her own drink absent-mindedly. "Vickie and I are having a cozy night in that she's really looking forward to."

"I'd take that over spraying Jonathan with Lysol every three minutes," Nancy grumbled.

"He's probably overreacting anyway," Barb interjected with a loose wave of her hand. "Men always think a little baby cold is the coming of Death."

Heather, Robin, and Chrissy all nodded in agreement.

"Jason was like that," Chrissy lamented, rolling her eyes. "I swear, he'd gripe and moan like his organs were failing."

"Was Jason your last Valentine, Chrissy?" Heather asked, pulling the attention of the entire table. Chrissy looked at each of them individually, sinking into her chair a little. Four pairs of scrutinizing eyes sized her up like hungry predators.

"I-I mean," she said, her voice small. "I've–– I've dated other guys, obviously, but––"

"None for long enough to have a Valentine," Heather finished.

"Have you ever had a Valentine?" Chrissy shot back, trying to yank the blanket of attention off her head.

"Nah." Heather flapped her wrist as she pulled from her straw. "But I don't want one, babe. I'm the free spirit. Every girl group has one."

"What does that make me?" Robin asked curiously.

"The comedic relief," Heather said with a shrug. Robin nodded appreciatively. Pointing toward Nancy, she continued, "The brains-slash-getaway driver." With Barb, "The sensible one." And, back to Chrissy, "The romantic."

Murmurs of agreement made Chrissy bristle.

"I am not the romantic," she argued, immediately regretting her decision when everyone's attention fell once again to her. "I–– I've basically been single for, like, four years now! How does that make me the romantic?"

"Because you believe in true love," Heather sighed dreamily. "C'mon, Chrissy, you can't lie and say you aren't holding out for that spark."

Blinking, Chrissy shrank even further into her chair. Staring at her own colorful drink and ruminating. Because Heather was right, and that was mildly infuriating. Chrissy was perpetually single, though not because guys hadn't expressed an interest.

It was because that instant jolt of connection hadn't run through her. Because the Hollywood drama of love-at-first-sight hadn't hit her, a strike of pink lightning igniting her inside and out. She'd settled for adequacy for years with Jason, and once the shiny newness of first puppy love had rubbed off, Chrissy was left trapped in a relationship of cooling embers and strange, unnamable guilt.

It took her a lot longer than she cared to admit to finally leave him.

"Y'know, I've got this friend," Robin started, glancing from Chrissy to Nancy. "I mean, he's a bit of a weirdo, but pretty much exactly what I picture for you. A romantic at heart. Single."

"And I do still have those reservations..." Nancy hedged, connecting the obvious dots Robin was spooning out.

"No," Chrissy stated, slashing her arms through the air in an X. "Absolutely not. I am not letting you guys set me up on a blind date on Valentine's Day."

The other four girls at the table all smiled, broad and a little maniacal.

🖤🖤🖤 .

Against her will, and with Nancy's extremely persuasive bullying nipping at her heels, Chrissy found herself rushing through her makeup routine the following evening. Nuggets, she was already running late, jumping into her heels and wrenching the front door of her apartment open just as the phone rang.

"Let the machine get it," she mumbled to herself, slamming her door shut and locking it. "Not a big deal. Not important. Nancy would kill me if me and this guy were both late and they gave away the table."

Not that she expected him to be late. But, in her experience, guys were always late to things like this. If they bothered showing up at all.

Her watch indicated that it was eight minutes past when Chrissy finally burst through the main door of the little French bistro Nancy had given her the address to. The Maitre'd was nowhere to be found, probably helping another couple among the sea of couples, and Chrissy took a cursory glance around the restaurant.

In all her detailing, Robin hadn't given Chrissy much of a descriptor.

"He's, I dunno, handsome, I guess? For a guy?" Robin had shrugged. "Brown eyes, I think? Shaggy brown hair? Probably in jeans?"

There.

In the middle of the restaurant, a guy sat alone at a table for two. Eyes obstructed by messy bangs, he thumbed absently at the petals of a bouquet. Shaggy hair (maybe a little longer than shaggy, actually) – check. Jeans – check, though he had a nice black button-up tucked into them. He looked a little bit more like a rocker than Chrissy was expecting, but it wasn't as though Robin described anything about his aesthetic. Just that she thought they'd look good together.

Chrissy didn't question why. Maybe she should have?

Taking in a deep, slow breath, Chrissy waded her way through the tables before she could lose her nerve. Swallowing something thick and anxious in her throat.

"Hi," she said, breathless despite centering herself. The guy glanced up, eyes widening in shock. "I am so, so sorry I'm late. Initially, it was my own fault, and then it was the bus's fault, and normally I'm early, I swear, but everything just fell apart today."

The guy blinked, lips parted, as he took her in. Eyes raking over the curl of her hair, the fit of her dress. Staring in obvious wonderment, making Chrissy suddenly feel entirely self-conscious.

"Shit," the guy breathed, bringing his gaze back up to her face. "You're gorgeous."

"Oh, um. Thank–– Thank you––"

Oh, God. Oh God, she couldn't remember his name.

"Aw, fuck, sorry, sorry," he said, jumping to his feet. Holding out the bouquet, he said, "These, uh, are for you."

Carefully taking the flowers, Chrissy blinked in surprise. She sort of expected roses, because that was the norm. Instead, in her hands was a beautiful bouquet of red carnations.

"Thank you," she said again, much more softly as the man once more jumped into action, helping her out of her coat and pulling her chair out for her. "Did, um. Did Robin tell you my favorite flower?"

Her question was soft enough that he didn't seem to hear her as he took his own seat again. Tucking a finger into the collar of his shirt, he stretched it a little against his neck as he cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry, uh, just–– You're not exactly what I imagined when you got described to me."

Chrissy smiled a little, pursing her lips. He still had that awestruck look in his eye, so the small part of her that thought she should be offended was easily wiped away.

"Did I live up to your expectations?"

"Exceeded them," he admitted easily. Making a sound like a bomb exploding, he wiggled his fingers in an arc to emphasize his shattered expectations. "Entirely. Which, I know, I know, makes me sound like a total asshole. Just–– Fuck, this is gonna sound so much worse than I mean it, but, uh, you aren't exactly the type of girl people think to try and set me up with."

In spite of herself, Chrissy giggled. And the guy's eyes brightened, lips parting around a broad, beautiful grin.

Oh, he had dimples. This was dangerous.

"I understand," she admitted. "Honestly, I was expecting you to be different, too."

"By that, I'm sure you mean you're floored by my dashing good looks," the guy said, tucking his fist under his chin and batting his lashes at her. Chrissy laughed again, hiding the sound behind her carnations, as the waiter approached.

"Lovely of you to actually join us this evening," he said with a halting smile. Chrissy tucked her lip between her teeth, chastised, though that certainly wasn't how the waiter meant it. She was barely late. "May I get you started with something to drink?"

The waiter left after taking their drink orders, promising to return with the first course of their meal.

"Can I admit something without judgement?" Chrissy asked.

"This is a judgement-free zone," the guy promised, gesturing to himself. "Obviously."

"I, um. I'm so sorry, but I completely forgot your name."

He laughed. This big, broad sound that filled the candlelight between them, spilling joy across the fancy linen tablecloth with sound that Chrissy couldn't help but mirror.

"Eddie," he said, reaching across the table with an outstretched hand. For some reason, that didn't sound exactly right. Too simple of a name for such an interesting man, maybe.

"Eddie," she repeated, letting his name sit on her tongue for a long second as she reached out and put her hand in his. Something electric rushed up her arm, and Chrissy gasped a little as she looked at their clasped hands.

A moment, a breath, and she finally found the wherewithal to say, "I'm Chrissy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Eddie gave her a curious look, head tilted to one side as though letting her name roll through his skull, but his eyes kept gliding back to their clasped hands.

Did he feel it, too?

"Trust me when I say," he began, "that the pleasure is all mine, Chrissy."

Conversation flowed like water between them. Picking up little snapshots of their lives like flower petals and rushing them downstream. Each one a little piece of the bouquet she had sitting on the table between them, smiling its gorgeous, red-toothed smile with every new modicum of information.

She found out that he was a writer, and that he was in a band, which made sense. Robin was always finding the artsy types to pull into her circle. He grew up in a small town, just as she had, and they bonded over the absolute shock of discovering how much bigger the world was when they finally left home for good.

In turn, she told him about the studio she was hoping to open someday.

"Music or art?" he asked.

"Yoga," she admitted, and Eddie laughed again.

"Do guys ever take yoga classes?"

"Sometimes."

"And, uh, do the pretty instructors ever give discounts to, y'know, guys they went on a really fantastic first date with?"

Pretending to think it over, Chrissy tapped her bottom lip with her finger. Searching the ceiling for the answer she already had waiting on the tip of her tongue.

"Not normally first dates," she said with a shrug. "But, you know, fantastic fourth, fifth, and sixth dates? Then we might be able to work out a deal."

Eddie's responding grin was so bright, it lit up the entire restaurant.

The food was probably really good, everything a preset menu that the couples around them seemed to genuinely enjoy.

Chrissy didn't taste a morsel of it. Far too wrapped up in the existence of Eddie, she ate blindly and quickly, ready for the conversation to continue before she finished whatever part of the meal was in front of her.

"You took the bus here, yeah?" he asked after paying for their meal. Chrissy nodded, and Eddie helped her into her coat. "Can I drive you home? And I swear, I have no ulterior motive except to, y'know, spend more time with you."

Grinning, Chrissy popped up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his jaw. Watching in fascination the way color suddenly pooled in his cheeks, staring down at her with that same unmitigated awe.

"I'd like that," she agreed.

Though Eddie turned the radio off completely when they got in the car, the drive was never silent. The brook of their conversation widening into a creek, then a stream, flowing faster and easier and pooling more and more petals of conversation in the basin.

She directed him to her apartment, and Eddie turned off the car entirely to walk her to her door.

"This was really great," he admitted. "I, uh. I'm really glad I took the chance, Chrissy. You're kinda amazing, you know?"

Chrissy grinned, tongue caught between her teeth as she shrugged. Feigning nonchalance.

"You're pretty fantastic yourself, Eddie," she said.

"Thanks," he chuckled, hazarding a step closer to her. "And, uh. Is it–– Is it cool if I, like, call you in the morning? Maybe we can get breakfast."

Still smiling, Chrissy took her own step closer. Having to crane her neck back to keep looking at him.

"That would be perfect."

"Nowhere near that fancy, though," he pleaded. "Like, I'm a fan of being pampered as much as the next guy, but those wine prices? Yeesh."

"Maybe we just don't get wine with breakfast, then."

"I like the way you think, sweetness," he murmured, still grinning. Chrissy, too, couldn't stop smiling, even as she leaned in. Their teeth clacked, a laugh escaping them both at the awkward angle, before Eddie's hands came up to cup her jaw and guide her into a proper kiss.

Incredible.

Sparks ignited up the entire length of her spine. Sitting, warm and bright and real, in the base of her skull as Eddie kissed her softly. Meaningfully. Pulling her close when her arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding her tight.

Holding her like maybe he didn't want the night to end.

And maybe she didn't, either.

"You know," she said, brushing her fingertips against his jaw, "you could always come upstairs. I have wine. And eggs. For breakfast."

"Yeah?" he breathed, tucking a strand of her hair back behind one ear. "You have enough breakfast for two, you think?"

"Definitely."

Chrissy's machine was blinking red when they found their way through her front door, but that was at the bottom of her list of cares as she led Eddie back to her bedroom. Bypassing the wine entirely.

Not that either of them seemed to notice.

The next morning, after waking up with Eddie in her arms, then spending an entire morning rolling around in bed, Chrissy finally donned a robe and made her way into the kitchen to pull breakfast provisions from her fridge as Eddie found his way into the bathroom. Pressing the little red button of her machine out of habit.

"Chrissy!" Robin shouted through the speaker of her phone. "Oh, my God, I hope you haven't left yet. But you probably have, because you're notoriously early. Ugh! Okay, okay, whatever, you'll listen to this when you get back, but please, please don't be mad at Steve. He didn't stand you up, I swear. He came down with whatever baby cold ailment Jonathan has, so he's, like, having a full-on crisis. The world is ending and whatnot. I'm sacrificing my own evening with my girlfriend to take care of this full-grown man, but he definitely wants to reschedule! Just, um, call me, or whatever, when you get home. Sorry. Sorry! He sucks!"

The message ended. Chrissy stared at her machine, confused, just as Eddie emerged from the bathroom.

"What have you got?" Eddie asked, grabbing her hip and smacking a wet kiss to her cheek. "Not to, uh, toot my own horn, but I am the fucking greatest at making a mediocre omelet."

Waggling his eyebrows for effect made Chrissy giggle, rolling her eyes, before she remembered Robin's message again.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Hmm?" He'd slunk out of the kitchen, making his way over to her tape collection and digging through the music.

"Who set you up last night?"

"Uhh?" He popped a tape into the player, shimmying his hips a little as the music started. "Billy did. Of course. Which, honestly, I'm surprised he wasn't just being an ass. That'd be exactly the kind of bullshit he'd pull to make me make a fool of myself. He did tell me your name was Kristen, though." Rolling his eyes, Eddie took her hand in his and spun her across the kitchen floor. Pulling her back against his chest with a sultry grin as they began dancing off-tempo to her Fleetwood Mac tape. "Whatever. He's an ass, and you turned out to be fucking perfect. I'll have to thank him." Snorting, Eddie shook his head. "Never thought I'd say that out loud."

"How late was I?" she asked. "Last night."

He blinked down at her, eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Did he give you the wrong time or something?" Eddie asked. "He told me to be there at six-thirty."

Chrissy looked over at the carnations on her counter. They were so beautiful. Her favorite flower. She'd just barely managed to get them into a vase last night before she was practically attacking Eddie to get his shirt off.

He was still gorgeously, beautifully shirtless, in fact. She let her fingertips trail against his sternum, swallowing heavily.

"Eddie," she breathed, a tiny bit of anxiety taking root in her lungs. Those carnations weren't for her. "I don't know anyone named Billy."

Eddie pulled their impromptu dancing to a sudden stop.

"What?"

"I was supposed to be meeting up last night with a guy named Steve, I guess," she said, nodding toward her answering machine. "My friend Robin set up my date for seven, but Steve got sick and didn't show. She called me as I was on my way out. I, um. I think maybe we highjacked each other after we both got stood up."

For a long, long moment, there was only the sounds of Stevie Nicks's vocals in her apartment.

Then, all at once, Eddie was throwing his head back and cackling.

"Wait," he said, pulling back far enough that he could look down at her. "Wait, wait, wait, baby, please, please tell me you're joking."

"I-I'm not," she stuttered, looking down at Eddie's bare feet. "I'm–– Nuggets, Eddie, I'm so sorry. That... I really thought––"

"Whoa, hey, babycakes, are you–– Wait, do you think I'm upset?" Putting his hands on her shoulders, Eddie swooped down to catch her eye. She looked at him, something wrapping around the anxiety in her throat. The utter happiness in his eyes had it slowly bleeding away. Dripping down her esophagus and choking whatever response she attempted. "Chrissy. C'mon. How fucking funny is that? We both managed to end up at the same place, at the same time, and neither of our dates show? But we don't even notice because we're having too much goddamn fun? That's incredible, if you ask me."

"Yeah?"

He leaned down, kissing her senseless all over again.

"Yeah," he chuckled, spinning her across the kitchen again. "Sounds an awful lot like fate, if you ask me."

kiss roulette!

[dutifullylazybread]

A kiss against a wall for Rolan x Tav please?

Absolutely! :D

Here ya go!

Tav tore down the tower’s staircase, Rolan coming up close behind her. Wood splintered as the door behind them was blown off of its hinges and the narrow stairwell was awash with blinding light.

Rolan lobbed three magic missiles at their pursuer, cursing loudly. Tav couldn’t see if he had been injured or if his attack had proved ineffective—she couldn’t turn to look or she’d lose her footing. They couldn’t fight this creature in close quarters.

And they couldn’t pause to throw up a wall of stone or to encase themselves in a protective orb—not without the space between them and their attacker drastically closing.

So they ran instead.

Tav tore down the corkscrewing staircase, her lungs straining, burning. A sharp discharge of magic, emitting a sound akin to fabric tearing, ripped through the air.

The stairs plateaued into a landing—the one just outside of the study. Tav reached out for the door handle—

And Rolan cried out in anguish.

She turned in time to see him barreling towards her.

“Tav!” The fever-pitch panic in Rolan’s voice cut through her focus.

His hands clamped down on her shoulders, and just as a jagged bolt of lightning careened towards her, Rolan shoved her up against the hard stone wall, the blast of magic scorching the empty space over his horns and searing the tips of Rolan’s hair.

The study’s door—where Tav stood moments before—was blackened to a char.

Rolan slumped against her. A line of smoke, thick with the acrid stink of burnt flesh, rose off of his shoulder.

And the stairway was blanched in white light as the creature descended.

The quasi-elemental was so bright that Tav had to resist the urge to shield her eyes.

Nothing had worked against it. Not fire, not ice—and Tav didn’t have time to test a spell that may prove impotent.

She needed a surefire way to destroy this elemental…

…and she had one.

Tav wrapped her left arm around Rolan’s center and drew him into her embrace. She brandished her staff with her right, its head burning a ghastly, pale green as she snagged at threads of the Weave with its decorative barbs.

The braiding scents of burnt hair and crackling electricity were replaced with the cloying stink of roses and spun sugar… muddled with graveyard soil and rot. It was as if she'd pried open the lid of a moldering casket, freeing the stench of trapped decay.

She tasted stale rainwater as she shaped the words to the spell, the Weave straining against her staff…

…and the quasi-elemental’s shape warped and buckled around the edges.

“What… what magic is this?” Rolan asked, drawing away to look at Tav.

Tav spoke the incantation, its phrasing like wisps of funeral incense and its words as abrupt as the flash of a dagger.

She wrenched her staff towards her, stripping the threads of Weave from its grander tapestry.

The quasi-elemental’s shape, already as inconstant as a jagged bolt of lightning, went rigid.

And then its form lengthened and swelled.

The creature strained and railed for but a moment before its very essence was shredded to pieces.

The elemental expired with an anguished shriek, and the stairway dimmed as its light blinked out.

Tav’s staff fell to the ground with her clatter. Her hands, numbed from shaping the Weave into rot, were chilled to the touch.

Rolan stared at her. “That spell…”

“I… found it in the Vaults,” Tav said. She shivered. “That was unpleasant to cast.”

He looked her over, pressing the back of his hand to her brow. “You’re freezing,” he murmured.

Her body, gripped in chills, shuddered. Her ribs may as well have been carved from a block of ice.

“You need to rest,” Rolan said. He reached for her, only for Tav to embrace him and lay her palm flat against the burn on his back.

“In a moment,” she said, emptying her mind and drawing upon her remaining stores of energy.

“Tav—“

The very warmth of her blood was sapped from her veins; it trailed up her arm, before unspooling into Rolan’s wound, knitting the flesh and soothing the burn under her fingertips. She was gripped by a sudden, deep-set fatigue.

A shudder ran through her body and her legs buckled.

Rolan caught her beneath the arms, bracing her between him and the wall.

“Why the hells would you do that?” he demanded. “We could have used a potion or called on a cleric. You didn’t have to—hells, your lips are turning blue.” As she stumbled forward, Rolan held her aloft.

“You’re so warm.” Her words were beginning to slur together. “Can we stay like this?”

With a sigh of exasperation, he pulled her close. Tav’s body easily moulded against his—her face rested in the crook of his neck, their chests were flush together, and his tail looped around her left ankle. She had always savored the heat that he put off, but now that she had none of her own, she loved it all the more.

“We’ll need to run you a bath,” he said aloud. “I’ll get a fire started and I’ll find some more blankets… Gods damn it all. How can you be this cold?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Of course I am,” he snapped. “Did you expect that I’d be pleased with you reducing yourself to a state of near exhaustion? What would have happened if you had cast another spell similar to the other two?”

Tav didn’t care to entertain the idea.

“Don’t do that again,” Rolan said, the command reduced to a plea when he added a desperate, “please.”

“I…” She didn’t want to make that promise—not when she might need to break it in the future. “I can’t let you die.”

“And you think I’d be happy if you died instead?” He exhaled loudly. “We can talk about this later. I’m more concerned with warming you up right now.”

“You would pass up the opportunity to argue?”

“Hush, you.” He kissed her brow, his lips lingering there, his breath warm. “I’m… I’m relieved that you’re alive. More than you can possibly imagine.”

“I think I have an idea.” She kissed the column of his throat, felt the rumbles of his building moan against her mouth. She darted the tip of her tongue out to taste him, humming in quiet appreciation.

Rolan nudged her head back. The tips of his ears were a wine-dark red. “You are in no condition to be coming onto me,” he said firmly. “Though… you have a little more color to you now.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Perhaps our… ministrations have helped then?”

He rolled his eyes. “You are infuriating.”

“And?”

“That’s all,” he said. “Just… infuriating.”

His mouth found hers. What started as a soft peck turned heady when she nipped his lower lip, lightly tugging at it, inviting him to continue… should he wish.

Rolan cupped her face in his hands, stroked his thumbs down her jawline, and pressed his body against hers as he kissed her. Tav tangled her fingers into his hair and teased her tongue against the seam of his lips. He swallowed his moan, melting fully into her and tasting her breathy sighs.

She lost herself in him, in the moment. The warmth of his body, mingling with the heat that he stirred in her chest and her core, was enough to draw more life into Tav. Her pulse quickened; her veins thawed.

And then, reluctantly, Rolan pulled away. “Well,” he said with a small cough. “You don’t quite look like death warmed over now.”

Tav cracked a smile. She couldn’t help but notice that Rolan’s lips were swollen from the press of her mouth.

“Let’s run you a bath,” he said. “Can you walk?” He offered her his arm.

She nodded, accepting his invitation and looping her arm about his.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten how reckless you were,” he added. “We will talk more about this. Later.”

She smirked. “You? Forget? I wouldn’t dare to assume that.”

Rolan snorted. "See that you don't."

And they proceeded down the stairs together.

[jxrmngxndr]

🎲 you know what i gotta do

32. A kiss while someone watches

The lines she pressed into him melded the familiar dichotomy of sharp edges and soft curves, fitting herself into the slight spaces that he left with all the satisfaction of the cat that got the cream, nudging with her nose until his chin dipped downward and their lips met, the press of warm and bright and alive with the immovable chill of him.

It was habit, it was instinct, it was at times the only thing that they could do to keep from feeling so irredeemably alone despite the compound milling with the buzz of life, so distant as to be an erupting supernova in the periphery of their vision as he breathed the powder scent of her skin, in, out.

He could count the beats along with her freckles, along with her eyelashes and the stars in her eyes and his in mirror, but could not have said when his fingertips came up to cradle her elbow as she tugged him downward.

"There you are. Ready to go?"

It was the only voice which could have drawn him back, and the world righted as he stood up straight, out of reach of that warm embrace of sunshine and back into cool indigo familiarity, Mei's eyes creased in amusement, her lips tilted into a smile which held neither malice nor shock, merely curiosity.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said to her, drifting away without any further look over his shoulder for Ego.

[tealmisthams]

Ao3 links to my Kiss Roulette Prompt 33 drabbles (I did one for both Rexsoka and Fivesoka).

Rexsoka Version:

Fivesoka Version:

[abyssalmermaiden]

how about a sleepy kiss for aryaille and thancred? 🥰

I think Thancred's losing this attempt to get an early start to the day

thank you! (˘ᴗ˘✿)

kiss roulette