#yet another first kiss

[your-turn-to-role]

moment of appreciation again for what is possibly my favourite later game percy quote that everyone always forgets about

(said to vex, of course)

[casualavocados]

You said you would always look at me.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 9

[theloveinc]

thinking about Bakugo being a little brat when it’s taking too long to get in a relationship w/ you

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[stormyoceans]

i have to be honest im not quite sure how i feel about this show but THIS KISS???????? A+++++ 1000000/10 NO NOTES

[grapejuicegay]

BAD BUDDY EP 1 OUR SKYY 2 BAD BUDDY EP 1

[bg3sinbin]

Haarlep employs drastic measures to be noticed after a rocky start at the House of Hope, forcing their new master to draft a contract to keep them in line. Raphael finally lives out his dreams of fucking himself, and learns the hard way about the full power of an incubus' kiss.

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Summer Nights

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a warm evening and a back porch. A little weed doesn't hurt either.

Rating: T

Genre: Modern Era, Getting Together, First Kiss, Slice of Life, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, One Shot

Words: 950

A/N: tagging @crushribbons and @strangethings-everywhere >3<

-

AO3

or

“You ever done it before?”

Don frowns, fiddles with the joint in his hand.

“Done what?” His mind is in a pleasant haze, but that means he’s missed what Bobby was talking about. Just the last few sentences. He’s been paying attention otherwise.

“Shotgunning,” Bobby snatches the joint from Don.

Don shakes his head and stares up at the night sky. It’s a warm night, the steps they sit on backlit by the house party behind him and Bobby. The thumping music, muddled voices fade into the stars, little wisps of smoke curling into the night air.

“You wanna try it?”

Tugging his gaze to Bobby, Don blinks. He’s not sure if he’s heard Bobby right.

“With you?”

Bobby laughs, takes a drag from the joint. “Yeah. See anyone else out here?”

A glance back to the party confirms they’re still the only ones out on the porch and Don shrugs.

“Alright.”

Bobby’s eyes shine, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Sliding closer to Don, Bobby sucks the end of the joint, the embers glowing bright before he places a hand on Don’s face. He tugs him close, brings their faces together and exhales the smoke into Don’s open mouth.

Don drifts, taking Bobby’s offering. The unspoken words sit behind his lips for just a moment before he lets the smoke slip out, a cloud floating between him and Bobby.

He can see Bobby’s grin and his heart thumps in his chest. There is an intimacy lingering in the air, this question that Don never thought to ask until now.

“Another?” Bobby murmurs, his lips scarcely brushing against Don’s.

One frantic nod later and Don is holding Bobby by the waist, tugging him ever closer as Bobby’s tongue pushes into his mouth with the smoke. They break just long enough for Don to exhale before they’re back in their passion. Bobby’s hand fists Don’s shirt, a soft moan leaving him when Don tugs the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Took you two long enough.”

Don and Bobby jump apart, heads whipping to the intruding voice. Chuck grins like a house cat and lights up his cigarette, unbothered by the matching stares locked on him.

“Hey, my guest room is open for the night,” Chuck shrugs before he walks down the steps.

He chooses to go between Bobby and Don, makes his way over to the fire pit before tossing his match in. A terse silence hangs in the air, but Chuck seems unaffected, giving his friends a smile and a nod before walking around the house.

Bobby clears his throat then and it’s enough to make Don jump.

“Sorry,” Bobby mutters before scratching the back of his neck. “Um…”

Don isn’t used to Bobby being at a loss for words, wonders for a moment what was in the weed. He had just blindly accepted it from Shorty after all.

Bobby is still stumbling and Don can only think to do one thing. He grabs Bobby’s hand, brings it close to his mouth to kiss his fingers.

The shudder that leaves Bobby etches itself into Don’s skin and he keeps the hand near his face, reaches out for more. Bobby meets him halfway, pressing their foreheads together with a relieved smile.

“How long?” Bobby asks just above a whisper.

“Since the beginning I think,” Don admits.

Bobby nods, plants a kiss at the corner of Don’s mouth. “Yeah,” he agrees.

With a little laugh, Bobby clamors to his feet, drags Don along with him. Don can’t help matching Bobby’s joy, the two stumbling through the house until they reach the bedroom.

The rest of the night blurs, but Don doesn’t mind. Bobby’s touch marks his skin, he gives his entire heart over and before he knows it, his mind is circling in a pleasure filled fog.

Morning comes with a blaring ringtone and Don buries his face into the pillow. Bobby’s hand slaps the nightstand several times before he finally gets the phone, a rough, “What?” leaving him as he answers.

“You seen Don?” Joe’s voice drifts in between them.

Don lifts his head to see Bobby looking at him, eyebrows raised in question. If Chuck hasn’t told the whole team by now, then Joe at least deserves first dibs.

Once Don shrugs, Bobby just says, “Yeah.”

“Well, tell him to get his ass over here. He’s late.”

Don’s memory is slow to drift back into him but when it does, he winces. “Shit, I promised I’d help him at the shell house.”

“Wait, is that him?” Joe cuts in. “Don, what the f—,” he goes silent for a beat, then, “Finally pulled your heads out of your asses, huh?”

The remaining tiredness vanishes and Don groans, comforted only by Bobby tangling their legs together.

“Did everyone know except us?” Bobby frowns at the phone.

Joe makes a vague noise, before he starts talking again. “Anyway, when do you think you could get him over here?”

“Five minutes?” Bobby teases Don.

Don gives Bobby a sullen stare that eases up once Bobby kisses him. Unable to help himself Don keeps their embrace going with small pecks and nips.

“God, don’t make out with me still on,” Joe interrupts.

“He’ll get there when he gets there,” is all Bobby says before hanging up on Joe and tossing his phone over to their discarded piles of clothes.

“I really should get going,” Don tries to pull away, but Bobby is so hard to resist.

His hand trails lower and the night before rushes into Don’s brain. Don pins Bobby down, soaking in the startled gasp, the smirk he gets in return.

A few extra minutes won’t kill anyone.

[scroogemcducksbastardchild]

recently realized that the reason i’m so attached to angst and queerbait is because that longing is the closest thing i can feel to romantic attraction. romantic fluff doesn’t mean anything to me (if anything it makes me actively uncomfortable) and cutting a story off before it gets to that point is my way of.. living vicariously through the characters, i guess. grief is the closest i can get to heartache.

[natalievoncatte]

“Lena?”

“What are you doing here?” Lena said, on the other side of the phone line.

Kara was already moving, lunging for the window, shedding her civilian clothes so fast she blurred into a streak of red and blue, the phone still mid-fall from where her hand had held it to her ear to the osprey cushion. She wasn’t thinking when she rattled windows with her passage. Less than a second later, the air snapped taught around her and burst with the cracking fury of a sonic boom as she bolted across the city in a ballistic arc that took her from her apartment to the upper floor penthouse office at L-Corp.

She was still too slow.

Lena was calling her name, her own phone flying from her hand into space as two men manhandled her over the railing into open air, almost six hundred feet up. Kara watched it happen in agonizing, hateful detail. She could hear every thudding panicked contraction of Lena’s heart even as she could count ever stitch in the side-seam of her dress.

Faster. Faster faster faster faster.

Any faster and she’d ignite the atmosphere around here.

Lena was perpetually falling, reaching up in a futile attempt to grasp the sky. Those thumping heartbeats came slow to Kara’s ears as she focused herself, time around her slowing to match her speed.

She has to do this perfectly. Hit Lena too fast and she’d kill her. Lena’s screamed stretched into a shrill endless peel as she fell, raw terror contorting her features.

Kara dove, slowing as she reached those last few millimeters of distance, forcing herself to match Lena’s speed, dipping under her so that the bewildered woman dropped into her arms and they further slowed together, Kara coming to a stop midair, half way down the length of her fall. Kara bundled Lena into her arms even as Lena clutched her in desperate fear, grasping and clutching at her in desperate fear. A wail of agonized terror exploded from Lena’s lips against Kara’s throat, followed by a taut cry of anguished relief.

“I have you,” Lena murmured. “You’re okay, I have you.”

Lena was shaking.

“They th-threw me off the balcony!”

They.

They.

Kara rose, cradling a treasure in her arms. They should have known better, these two thugs, these goons. To show her contempt, she blew them off their feet with a gust of air from her lungs. Tenderly, she placed Lena on her bare feet -her shoes had gone flying when she was tossed- and turned to her attackers.

One pulled a gun, the other ran. She crushed the crude little human weapon, so infuriatingly primitive and barbaric, almost forgetting not to pulp the wielder’s hand. As the other ran, she hooked her fingers in his collar and yanked, pulling him right back and over the railing. His scream satisfied something hateful within her and she wanted to stop herself from seizing his ankle, but she didn’t. The weight of the crest on her chest was too much to bear it.

She did let him dangle though, begging her for mercy.

Kara jabbed the comms in her ear and barked orders to the DEO agent that answered her. It wasn’t ten minutes later that half a dozen agents, led by Alex herself, were dragging the two men out of Lena’a office.

Lena herself was standing on the balcony still, shivering in the late night chill. Kara pointedly ignore the way Alex stared at them both as Kara unclasped her cape from her shoulders and threw the heavy cloth around Lena, bundling her up in it.

Oh Rao, her poor feet on the concrete.

Kara didn’t think. She picked Lena up again and carried her inside. Lena didn’t protest or even speak, as delicate as a precious baby bird in Kara’s arms.

“We can… we can deal with statements later,” said Alex. “I’ll step out.”

They were alone.

Lena just stared for a moment, as Kara opened the drawer in the coffee table and took out the fleece blanket that Lena kept there for naps or those frequent nights when she just didn’t go home, unable or unwilling to abandon her work for such pedestrian things as sleep, or her own health. Kara spread it across her, covering her feet. She just didn’t want her to be cold.

Kneeling beside the couch, Kara stroked a loose lock of wind-ruffled hair back from Lena’s eyes, forgetting herself, forgetting that she was the Super and not the Girl, right now. She couldn’t help it. The Super was stoic, unruffled, full of bravado. The Girl wanted to fucking cry and scream in agony and blessed release.

She was okay. Kara made it. Lena was okay.

Lena was staring at her.

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

The way she said it, it almost wasn’t a question. It sounded flat, half an accusation.

“I was with Kara Danvers,” Kara was about to say, but the answer died on her lips, the lie too bitter to cross her tongue.

She was so sick of lying, and the reasons why she lied all seemed so… hollow, here, now, and Lena wasn’t stupid. It was halfway there, Kara realized. She could see it in Lena’s bewildered, quivering expression. The thought was there, half formed, and once the suspicion was formed, it was only a matter of time. Their friendship was built on pillars of sand and the tide was rolling in right now.

“It’s me, Lena,” Kara whispered.

Lena’s eyes widened, as her nostrils briefly flared. Lena did not ask her to clarify, or explain. Her penetrating gaze merely searched, drinking in the details of Kara’s face in a way that made her feel both seen in a warm and comforting way and horribly exposed, the chill wind from the balcony door at her back. Yet the gaze was open, permissive. Kara noticed that one of her eyes was a little more blue than the other.

Rao, Lena was so pretty. She was beautiful, yes, in the austere almost untouchable way of a young powerful woman who weaponizes her looks, but that part of her was gone now, replaced by something open and vulnerable and soft, and usually reserved for Kara, not Supergirl.

Kara sat down in front of her, crossing her legs. She wanted to reach out and sooth the trembling she saw, her hand twitching of its own accord. Lena pulled the red fabric of her cape up and tucked it under her chin, making herself small.

“It’s you.”

“Yeah.”

“You caught me.”

“I always will.”

Lena closed her eyes. “I’m tired of falling. God I’m so tired of it, I just want him to leave me alone.”

Anger flashes in Kara’s chest, sending a jolt of heat up her spine as the red-sun fire burned within her, begging for release. She kept her eyes tightly shut.

A soft cry opened them again. Lena was crying silently in the manner of one used to hiding it, her chest hitching as she held it back.

“If it weren’t for you I’d be dead, Kara.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Something tightened inside her, clutching so hard she could barely breathe. Watching Lena fall had been like… like looking over her shoulder and seeing the green flash. Kara had pinched her eyes shut and turned away, not watching the blast, screaming in agony when the blast wave tossed her pod, too afraid to watch her world die, unable to escape it. Sometimes that feeling would wash over her and tear her from the embrace of a dreamless sleep and she’d scream.

A soft, cool hand brushed her cheek. Lena reached out from the blanket and pushed away the errant tear. Kara couldn’t help herself, and returned the gesture. Lena’s skin was so delightfully soft, and whenever Kara touched her, felt her, it gave air to something like hot coals in her belly, and they’d threaten to become an unbound flame.

Something was happening here and she wasn’t sure what it was, but it was important. Kara had a sudden sense that this moment was a real one, an important one, and that she had just started bumbling through a choice that needed her full attention.

Lena was watching her, her soft intelligent eyes darting. Her breathing had calmed but she was agitated, heartbeat too fast, heat bloom crawling across her skin as her face flushed. A deep, powerful part of Kara woke up at the sight of it, something that she would normally have disdained had she remained on Krypton, a part of her that she might even have hated.

Her hand was still resting gently on Lena’s cheek. Lena met her gaze and shifted slightly, pressing a touch harder against Kara’s palm. It was an acknowledgement. It felt permissive, inviting. Lena tilted her expressions slightly and looked at Kara through her lashes.

She was scared, Kara realized. Scared but perhaps hopeful. Things began to swirl in her head. She could drown in the heady scent of an office full of flowers.

“You just keep saving me,” Lena said.

Kara rose to her knees so she could lean in, arching over her. This need, this impulse, gripped it like a firm hand on the back of her neck. It felt so wrong, so human, so Terran, but she didn’t care. For the first time she felt like doing this because she wanted it, not to make herself feel human or soothe some itch.

She hesitated every moment but Lena’s gaze remained fixed, a faint smile curling her lips as Kara drew closer, sliding an arm under her shoulders, very carefully pulling her up.

“I thought you were hopeless after the thing with the flowers,” Lena whispered. “Or maybe just regrettably straight.”

Kara wanted this to be right. She nuzzled her nose against Lena’s, one last tiny little request, and murmured, “is this okay?”

In response, Lena closed the gap and their lips met. Kara hadn’t felt like this since the first time she stepped off the ground into the open air. This was better than flying. Lena’s kiss was just so her, at once brash and hesitant, a question phrased as a declaration.

Before long Kara was holding her.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t.”

Lena released herself; there was no other way to describe it. It was like their past hugs but more, Lena embracing Kara as though she’d like to be absorbed by her.

“I know.”

In the morning she’d pay Lex a visit. She’d talk to Alex and J’onn, make it clear that if the DEO wanted a Kryptonian on speed dial, it was time to make her priorities their priorities, and the first thing she was going to do was tear Cadmus out of their hiding places by the root.

It wouldn’t be enough to just hobble their operations, she wanted them gone. Supergirl would work in tandem with the Kara Danvers until Lex Luthor had no friends, no allies, no resources. Even the prison guard who smuggled him his caviar would learn that any largesse towards his prisoner would summon a furious Kryptonian.

She would call in every favor, seek every ally, use every resource.

Right now none of that mattered. Lena was safe, and she was in Kara’s arms.

[epiphainie]

.

[vimbry]

is there anything in the tmbg canon that's cuter than the cover of "we've got a world that swings"

[paimonial-rage]

My favorite works in no particular order:

Tipsy Tales (Anemo Boys)

Symbiosis (Ayato)

What Destiny Has Brought (Fischl)

Hello How Are You (Gorou)

Follow the Wind II (Kazuha)

Of the Same Coin (Mika)

Songs of the Wind (Venti)

Nothing Lasts Forever (Yae Miko)

Sharing a Drink They Call Loneliness (Zhongli)

Of Hopes and Prayers (Zhongli)

[zoennes]

2.03 ♡ 2.04

[vzajemnik]

starting to let myself truly believe he wants me for real and is truly having the same revelation i did a month ago

[invinciblerodent]

brb, i have to go and. make strangled noises at nothing real quick; it just hit me over the head how Wyll's use of the metaphor of dancing as a stand-in for romance and intimacy really just. accompanies him all throughout his story, and how perfect it is

I guess I should have expected a character like him, that's both deeply poetic in his speech and courtly in his upbringing, would come to idealize a chivalric romance a bit, and translate his feelings on/of love to an element of courting that's as ritualistic and processional as ballroom dancing, but sometimes just realizing the obvious can really knock you off your feet for a second

like. just like how there is almost a blueprint to a perfect storybook romance in both stories and -consequently- in his head (I think romance might even be one of the literary genres with the highest number of unwritten rules that need to be fulfilled for a work to count as a romance), there is also a fairly strict method to a court dance. There is a series of well-known and practiced steps that was laid out in advance, and one is to perform them in succession, and in sync with one's partner. If one of the parties doesn't know or doesn't want to follow the rules/steps, it gets... tangled, messy, and you both stumble. The dance and the relationship both fall apart. The happy ending of a tale is not reached without all the steps in-between being followed, and he so dearly wants his fairytale ending, his happy, fulfilled love, I just---

it's such a perfect metaphor, and what makes it even more perfect is that Wyll is ostensibly aware of it, and he chose it, purposefully, and i don't want to watch the Act 3 commitment scene because I've not yet done it myself and don't want to spoil it, but I would be so surprised if he a.) made no mention of storybook romances, or b.) didn't just straight up propose y'know

i'm (metaphorically) crying, if it were possible to play this game on six different characters simultaneously without getting bored or confused I fucking would