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luxaofhesperides · 22 days

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(yourlocalcorviddad)

Wait wait wait, can there be more written about the one with Duke going on college tours with Danny??? If it's not too late?!??

(part one)

Danny’s been in love with Duke for years now. It’s always been kept a closely guarded secret, buried under as many wraps as he could get it. He tried to chase after other fleeting crushes in the hopes of moving on from his feelings for Duke, sure that they were never going to go anywhere.

How could they, when they lived states apart?

The Danny back then would have never believed that he would one day be waking up in Duke’s arms in a hotel far away from home, traveling around the country to figure out a future together.

Or rather, planning their own futures by each other’s sides, rather than planning to be together throughout college. Danny knows they’ll be spending even more years apart, chasing after their dreams, but it’s a gift just to a a summer together again. So what if it leads them to living on opposite sides of the country? They’ve managed to survive a long distance friendship for this long, they can keep it up for another few years.

And if it comes to it, Danny can just fly to wherever Duke is. He’s only gotten faster over the years, settling into his powers and practicing them so often.

The future is daunting, but all his nerves are chased away by Duke’s smiles.

“Can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says as they get settled at a restaurant in Massachusetts. They’re both tired, but the giddiness of getting together, of knowing their feelings are requited, keeps them energized and happy despite the long drive across state lines.

“One state left, yeah?”

“Yeah, and I got Harvard first on the list so we can visit Jazz.”

“You’re the best,” Danny grins, stretching his legs out under the table to lightly knock his foot against Duke’s.

This entire trip has felt like a daydream to him. It’s one thing being able to travel around the country with Duke, but to be able to kiss him wherever they go? Even now, two weeks later, Danny can’t believe how happy he is.

It makes the uncertainty of his future less scary. It helps distract him from how much he wants to escape his parents, despite how much he loves them.

Their conversation comes to a brief pause as a waiter comes by to take their order, writing everything down before hurrying away to keep up with the rush of activity in the semi-busy restaurant.

“Oh,” Danny says, suddenly remembering the third person in their group, “Is Peter going to be joining us?”

Peter, Duke’s chaperones, is odd but funny. He disappears and reappears like a magician, always carries a gun on him, and treats Duke like a little brother the rare moments he’s around. He’s mostly only been with them to act as transport, driving them around from university to university.

Duke’s face does something strange when he hears Peter’s name, but it’s gone before Danny can figure out what that’s all about.

“Nah,” he answers, “He’s off doing his own thing. You’ve seen how he likes to follow his own plans.”

“So I guess we’re stopping here for the day?”

“Yeah. I’m sure we can find somewhere nice to spend the night, and until then we can explore—” Duke takes a quick moment to check the name of the town they’re in, helpfully stated on the restaurant’s wall of five star reviews “—Baldwinville. I’m sure there’s something for us to do around here.”

“I mean, we don’t have to do anything special, you know. I’d be happy to just to spend the day with you.”

Duke smiles softly, reaching over the table to take hold of Danny’s hand. “I’d like that too. Maybe we should just take some time and explore the place together. Have a relaxing day before we head to Cambridge.”

“That’ll be nice. I feel like it’s been forever since I had a quiet day.”

“Same!” Duke laughs. “Gotham’s wild, man. Did I ever tell you the story of having a barbeque with Killer Croc?”

“No! I can’t believe you kept that from me!”

Duke launches into the story as if it’s any other day, just the two of them hanging out. Danny’s enraptured as he always is when Duke shares his Gotham Stories. He doesn’t falter even when their food is brought out, and Danny tries not to blush too hard when Duke feeds Danny some of his meal, just so he can try it.

There’s a reason Danny sometimes daydreams about what his wedding with Duke will look like, and it’s because of this.

But that’s getting way ahead of himself! He shoves the thoughts away and focuses on the story, enjoying their lunch together.

Duke pays when they’re done, as has become routine; Danny had fought him about the first few times before Duke told him that it was all ‘Bruce fucking Wayne’s money so they don’t need to worry about costs.’ It’s a gift from the man himself to Duke, and rejecting it would be rude.

That hit Danny right in his midwestern politeness and he could do nothing but let it happen, already planning thank you gifts for Bruce Wayne.

They walk out into the quiet streets of Baldwinville, hand in hand. Summer has the air humid and full of buzzing insects, and the sweet scent of flowers surrounds them as they head down the sidewalk, idly looking into the display windows of each store they pass. The buildings are old, mostly made of brick, and carry a charm that’s lacking in the urban sprawl of Amity Park.

He likes it here.

Honestly, he’s been liking a lot of what he’s seen in Massachusetts.

He wouldn’t mind spending a few years here as he gets his Bachelor’s degree. Of course, it all depends on if he gets into the colleges of his choice, but he’s feeling hopeful about his future. He’s worked hard to bring his GPA up after his freshman year, and his ability to juggle and extreme workload has made him a master at getting things done before deadlines and adapting to things at the last minute.

Danny idly swings their clasped hands between them as they walk, savoring the time they have together.

The end of their summer trip is creeping up on them and Danny can feel the distance between them start to pull tight.

They don’t speak until they wander into a park, just a large grassy field filled with wildflowers and bees. There are a few benches placed beneath large trees and Duke leads them over to it to take advantage of the offered shade.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says, sitting down with a sigh. He tugs Danny down after him, and Danny goes willingly. He swings his legs up to drop them across Duke’s lap, leaning against him, his heart fluttering when Duke gets a hand around his thigh to keep him in place.

“I don’t want this summer to end,” Danny admits. “I’m not ready to leave you again.”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going to be away from you any longer than I have to.”

Danny can’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss him, so he doesn’t. Duke meets him with a smile, keeping the kiss slow and sweet, though the way his hand skates up Danny’s thigh sends molten heat through his veins.

He pulls back before they can escalate any further (one time in public was enough; he’s still embarrassed by it and can’t look Peter in the eyes) and leans his head against Duke’s shoulder. “It would be nice if we could live together.”

“Planning out our future already? Well, in that case, I want a dog and a pet snake.”

“Why a pet snake?”

“Just feel like it.”

“A dog would be nice,” Danny says, “As long as it gets along with Cujo. Not sure about the snake, but if you can take care of it, I’d be fine with having it around.”

“Think you’d ever live in Gotham?”

Danny considers, then shrugs. “Maybe. I dunno, it sounds like a lot and I already dealt with so much just with the ghosts in Amity Park. But I don’t think I’d mind if I was with you.”

The smile that crosses Duke’s face is soft and Danny wants to see it all the time. He loves when Duke gets flustered; Danny just turns red and shy, but Duke becomes soft and adoring in a way that makes Danny feel like he’s holding sunlight, all warm and happy.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Duke says, not yet able to bite back his smile. “Now that we’ve visited most of the places on our list, do you know which ones you’re going to apply to?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Danny answers. He’s been thinking about where he wants to go since summer started and he left school with Mr. Lancer reminder everyone to think about college and preparing their applications.

It’s been a topic that’s never left his mind since for the past couple months, wondering about what the future holds for him. He honestly never thought he’s get this far, having died at 14 and struggled to adapt to how his life changed after. But he’s gotten back on track with school, has a handle on the ghosts, and the support of his parents to go anywhere he wants.

For so long he’s been stuck in the routine of school, fight, struggle. There was never any time for anything else, much less planning for the future, and now it’s hanging heavy over his head.

At least he gets to be with Duke as he figures things out. It’s like going back to their childhood, spending summers together, but they’re both grown up now, walking ever closer to the next stages of their lives.

He’d love to get into MIT, but he knows the chances of being accepted are insanely low. He’ll apply anyways, just in case, but Danny’s prepared to go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere else in Massachusets. Or maybe go to New York.

“I really liked the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. If I get in, I think I’m gonna go there,” Danny says, putting his hopes for the future into words.

“Yeah? I think I might try to get into a college up here too,” Duke replies. “If things work out, we won’t be so far from each other.”

“And even if we do end up far away again, we can make long distance work. Right?”

There’s a worry in the back of his mind that Duke won’t like a long distance relationship, that he’ll be off in college falling in love with someone else, but there’s barely a second before Duke says, “Of course,” as though it’s obvious. Like he hadn’t considered any other option.

Danny’s heart settles and he shoves away the rest of his general anxieties. There’s no time for that now!

He intends to enjoy the rest of his summer trip with Duke to the fullest extent possible, which means all of that is a problem for Future Danny.

“Should we go find Peter? We’ll need to figure out where we’re staying tonight.”

“I think we can go a few more hours to a bigger town,” Duke says, “Not that this place isn’t nice, it’s just too quiet. It’s weird.”

“Alright, city boy,” Danny says, standing up from the bench. He pulls Duke up after him, leaning over to kiss the exaggerated offended expression off his face. It’s not like he’s wrong, anyways; Gotham is a big city, and Duke is an urban boy through and through, especially compared to Danny, who comes from a large town and has family living in reclusive rural Appalachia.

“Small towner,” Duke returns, nipping lightly at Danny’s bottom lip and laughing when he squeaks in surprise.

He pulls away before Danny can retaliate, and Danny lets him go, saving his revenge for after they get to their next hotel.

Their time together is coming to an end soon, and as much as the future terrifies and excites him in equal measure, knowing Duke will be with him, one way or another, gives him the courage to keep going.

He hopes Jazz will be happy that Duke’s dating him now. He’s already hoping to ask her to be a bridesmaid for him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #part one is dukes pov of him crushing on danny and looking forward to a fun summer #and this part is dannys pov where hes like i LOVE him im planning to MARRY him!!!#hes whipped is what im saying #they do know abt each others powers and all but thats not relevant rn lol. the hero ids are still secret but not for long >:)#as in theyre just gonna be like 'oh shit you too?' and roll w it #kings of going w the flow #anyways!! i like to think that duke will go to umass amherst and danny to the institute he named in this fic #so they live a state away from each other and danny flies over to duke every weekend #their college friends are all lowkey jealous of how good their long distance rship is. everyone wants what they have!!!#thanks for the prompt!!#this is the last one for this batch of ghostlights prompts!!! cant believe i managed to write all of them :)

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dc-merging-families-weekend · 15 days

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PROMPTS!!!

Prompt Voting is closed. We had so many great prompts y'all I'm glad you gave us so many great ideas. Sadly we honestly couldn't use them all but we've narrowed it down to the favorites. With all the extra ideas you gave us we decided to do the top four per day rather than the top three. So here they are your favorite Merging Families Prompts.

June 14th: SFW:

JL blindsided by Wedding Announcement

Speed Force Ships It

Touch Starved

Secret Relationships

June 15th: SFW:

Flashfamily Member/Civilian Bat or Hero Id/Civilian ID

Arranged Marriage

Soulmate/Soulmate Marks

Accidental Baby Acquisition

June 16th: SFW:

Cursed Gotham/Blessed Central

Family meets the JL

Id Shenanigans/Mistaken Id

Absentminded kiss in public is relationship reveal

#Merging Families 2024 #Merging Families Weekend #dc comics #fandom event #dc events #batman #the flash #birdflash #batfamily #batflash #timbart #dc #writing prompt #art prompt

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thetangycheesemanwithaplan · 3 days

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My walls are made of my heart (would you still break them gently?)

Two separate buildings, connected by a paper thin wall, brings two people together in an unexpected way. Buck and Tommy are complete strangers, but they're about to get to know each other in ways they couldn't even begin to imagine. There may be a wall between them but the walls around their hearts are about to crumble.

Chapter Moodboards

Chapter 2|

#Leo writes #bucktommyweekend #bucktommy #kinkley #tevan #firecopter #911 abc #911 #This might actually be my favourite thing ever #I'm doing one story and all the clean prompts so this will be updated frequently throughout the weekend but also will continue after as #at least 15 chapters planned #cheesy romcom movie inspiration required a poster to match #so hyped for this #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard #tags and rating will change if they need to #MWAMOMH(wysbtg?)

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impel-clown · 7 months

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I got this head canon that Crocodile and Mihawk both secretly adore Buggy's long blue hair and when Buggy allows one of his crew to do it up in an intricate braided style, all bets are off as Crocodile and Mihawk finally claim their Emperor Clown.

Crocodile and Mihawk go on a whole journey concerning their feelings for Buggy's hair.

First they're just annoyed by it (as they are with Buggy in general) because dear god he's got it in pigtails coming out of his hat what the fuck

Then its curiosity. Crocodile just stares at Buggy wondering how the hell he gets all his hair underneath his bandana. Buggy just naturally assumes Crocodile is sizing him up to swallow him whole, nevermind thats anacondas not crocodiles. its all still painful reptile based death in Buggy's book

Rage quickly overtakes curiosity however, when Mihawk and Crocodile first see Buggy with his hair down, freshly washed but still slightly curling from the salt air. It looks soft and shiny and like it would be wonderful to run their fingers through, and this is just Unacceptable! Buggy's supposed to be nothing more than an idiotic clown! He shouldn't make either of them feel things.

The breaking point is when Buggy's hair is up in a braided crown style, the blue broken up by small treasures they recently acquired. Pearls and gold chains and little delicate jewels are weaved through his hair and it all glints in the circus lights as he throws his head back and laughs at some idiotic joke one of his crew made and Oh Fuck The Clown's Got Them

#one piece #cross guild #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #ask #i just love mihawk and crocodile being kinda outrages that they've fallen for buggy #just #the clown?????#of all people????#also thank you very much the hc!#i wanna get to the other one this weekend #and then i may either incorporate the prompt into my plans for the rest of october #or have that be one of the first I write after october #thank you again!

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alectoperdita · 7 months

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Oh hell, I am all about them drugged confessions. If/whenever you’re up for it. 💕

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

Jumped this one ahead in the queue since it's someone's birthday. 💜💜💜 Enjoy, my friend! I hope this has enough of the stuff you dig about them.

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

content warnings: referenced non-consensual drug use and mildly spicy because Seto is thirsty

---

The city lights stabbed into Seto's eyes. The city's heartbeat—a frantic cacophony of bumper-to-bumper traffic, music spilling out of late-night shops and restaurants, and an overwhelming pulse of humanity—pulsed against the back of his head like a second migraine.

He lifted his heavy head and tried to get a better look at his surroundings. Not an easy feat when the world wouldn't stop spinning. Seto could feel the planet's rotational force itself.

In the sky, a bloated, sickly yellow moon hung on the black canvas, a dim bulb when compared to the Oriental Pearl Tower's neon blue and magenta on the opposite riverbank. The phalanx of lit skyscrapers behind the landmark formed a blinding wall that threatened to lighten the night sky.

No wonder they were sitting at a standstill in traffic. He was in the Bund. Shanghai. He was in Shanghai. Not for the first or second time, but the city's nightlife never failed to overwhelm.

It came back to him in bits and pieces. The Pan-Asia Duel Monsters Championship was in China this year, which KC was a sponsor of, along with a dozen international and domestic corporations. Seto wasn't here to compete, though. He was here to do business and build guanxi.

Which meant night after night of hard drinking and tedious back slapping as Seto endured their patronizing compliments about his passable Mandarin. Endless rounds of maotai until his blood must be 90% alcohol. That was the preferred poison of the old-school elites, the ones who built their wealth on the backs of a rapidly booming economy that outpaced everyone's wildest imagination. Not even Japan had sustained that kind of boom in the post-war years.

Potential liver failure was the price of doing business in this country.

That was last night, though. Seto was sure of that much, even if the passage of time seemed theoretical at best. Tonight, he'd been swept into a gaggle of their children, mainly the sons of the previous night's party officials and business moguls.

The fuerdai. His "peers."

Ha! Gozaburo had handed him nothing. Everything Seto owned, everything he accomplished, was through his own sweat and blood.

Seto will give them one thing: their tastes were decidedly less provincial. While their fathers drank baijiu like fish drinking water, they preferred cocktails, or at least pitchers of iced green tea mixed with Crown Royal.

Maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated how fucked up he could get on such a simple mixture.

That was the last thing he could remember. He drew a yawning gap between the afterparty at the club and this taxi cab.

Seto sank into the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach lurched. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were stuck in traffic. He might not be able to keep it down in stop-and-go traffic.

An abrasive—a familiar abrasive voice—encroached from the fringes, though. An equally combative voice shot back in a different language.

Seto's head lolled to the side, away from the window and toward the other passenger in the backseat. Reluctantly, he pried his heavy eyelids open. God, why was he so tired? It felt like he'd pulled several all-nighters in a row.

His fellow passenger was Jounouchi, locked in a heated conversation/argument with the cab driver.

Right. Jounouchi was also in Shanghai this week. Except he was here to compete in the tournament. And unlike Seto, he didn't speak a lick of Chinese.

Not that his laughable grasp of English fared any better.

"Fuck, I'm telling ya, it's the other Marriott!" Jounouchi groaned in Japanese, running a frustrated hand through his bird's nest hair. It looked softer than it had any right to be, though. The strands ought to be bleached to hell and back after this many years.

But Jounouchi had been updating his wardrobe and his deck in recent years. Every victory advanced his look and style, and even netted him some media training like someone deserving of media notice, which was why he was playing in the Pan-Asian championship. Seto couldn't ignore him like he once did, like he still tried to in vain sometimes.

(And sometimes, he very much didn't want to ignore Jounouchi, wondering if he could catch the other man's attention in return...)

None of that explained why they were in the same cab, though.

Jounouchi tried again to communicate. It hurt to listen to him butcher English to that extent. The cab driver appeared to grow even more irate, threatening to eject them entirely.

Giggles spilled uncontrollably out of him. Of course! Of course, Jounouchi's incompetence got them stranded on the opposite end of the city from their hotel.

Fortunately, he was a snack to look at, even if his brains were nothing to write home about.

Seto's words croaked out of him, repeating in Mandarin what Jounouchi had been trying to convey. God, why did it hurt so much to speak? But even his drunken slur sufficed, earning a grousing retort from the driver that Seto should've just said so sooner while shooting a death glare at his other passenger through the rearview mirror.

At the sound of Seto's voice, Jounouchi jolted in shock, releasing the driver's headrest he had been clinging to. After several awkward moments of staring, he inched closer to Seto, stopping short of touching him. But the proximity and the tight enclosure made Seto's skin crawl. Not in an unpleasant way, though. His body tingled and felt a touch flushed.

How would Jounouchi's skin feel against his?

"You alright there, Kaiba?" asked Jounouchi, seemingly floating closer. He waved a hesitant hand in Seto's face.

Base urges welled up in him. He wanted to grab Jounouchi's hand and bite it, no better than a dog, as he once mocked the other man for being. Better yet, he could drag his tongue across the rough palm and lap at his knuckles. Suck his thick fingers into his mouth and learn contentment from how they could fill his mouth.

Seto was never drinking green tea mixed with whisky ever again.

He managed a small noise of confirmation before he twisted away, curling as best as he could around the seatbelt. Something like a whimper pushed at the back of his throat, but he refused to release it. He wouldn't humiliate himself any further. Just as he wouldn't crawl across the middle seat and cuddle into Jounouchi's lap.

But god, he wanted that so much it hurt.

A warm hand landed on his back, and he nearly surrendered as Jounouchi rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay." Jounouchi spoke softly, but somehow it rang louder than the many decibels of Shanghai traffic. "We'll be back at the hotel in time. Just hang in there."

Seto spent the rest of the journey folded into himself, wedged firmly against the side of the taxi, trying and failing not to tremble under Jounouchi's caring touch. With a hushed tone, Jounouchi explained what had happened. It was pure coincidence that he ran into Seto and his "party" at that particular club. (Coincidence is giving chance too much credit. There were only so many high-end nightclubs in the city.) Jounouchi had wandered over to say hi before rejoining his own group. But out of the corner of his eyes, he'd noticed that Kaiba was acting unlike himself. In fact, the entire group seemed a bit off.

Seto was coming to his own conclusion before Jounouchi shared his.

Seto had been drugged. And since he knew better than to take random shit handed to him by strangers, it must've been slipped into his drink. Or maybe it was in the communal cocktail pitcher to begin with.

"They were trying to drag you off to someplace else. Don't ask me where. But you didn't look like you wanted to go, so I stepped in," Jounouchi trailed off. He'd yet to remove his hand, but it sat unmoving, a steadying weight on Seto's back helping to ground him to reality.

"I can't imagine they were happy," Seto muttered.

Jounouchi chuckled. "Not one bit. Acted like I was trying to kill the party. One chick threatened me with her stiletto heel."

"My knight in shining armor." Seto found himself laughing, then regretted it when his head throbbed.

"Don't worry, I didn't hit any of 'em. Mighty tempting, though. I just kinda threw you over my shoulder and high-tailed it outta there. That was how I knew you were really outta it. You barely cursed me out."

Heat associated with both shame and arousal rushed through him. It turned out those biceps he secretly admired weren't just for show.

"Finally, we're here!" exclaimed Jounouchi. His hand also regrettably retreated.

Seto watched blearily as Jounouchi overpaid the driver and leaped out the door. He didn't go far, though. He jogged around the vehicle to Seto's side and yanked open the door. As he leaned in and over Seto to undo the seatbelt buckle, the woody scent of Jounouchi's cologne flooded Seto's nostrils. And his strength was plainly evident as he braced his arms around Seto's shoulders and hip.

"Alright, up we go," urged Jounouchi.

Under any sober circumstance, Seto would've never allowed this to happen. To let Jounouchi touch him, especially as a caretaker. But Seto was the farthest thing from sober, fucked up on whatever combination of alcohol and party drugs he had been unwittingly fed. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own two feet.

So he relied on Jounouchi and his strength. Clung to the man's sweat-slicked neck.

The doorman didn't give them a second glance. Why should he? Seto was simply the latest in an endless stream of drunken guests stumbling back into the five-star hotel.

A lobby concierge approached and tried to help, though. Both Jounouchi and Seto waved him off. Jounouchi likely because he didn't want another stressful not-conversation, and Seto didn't want anyone but Jounouchi touching him right now.

"Hey, what floor?" Jounouchi asked after propping him against the wall of the elevator carriage.

Seto patted down his pockets and was relieved to find his wallet. He didn't expect the fuerdai to rob him blind like a common mugger, but you never knew. He tossed the leather wallet to Jounouchi and croaked, "Key card."

The tournament competitors were provided with single-bed guest rooms. Seto, on the other hand, occupied the Vice Presidential Suite for the week. Their elevator shot toward the top floors, bypassing the dozens of floors between the ground and the suites.

As they ascended, Seto snuck covert glances at the other hand. Despite the air conditioning running at full blast, Jounouchi was still huffing and sweating. Who could blame him? Summer in Shanghai could be blistering.

"Can you walk?" asked Jounouchi when the elevator doors finally parted.

Struck muted, Seto shook his head. His heart raced as Jounouchi wrapped a burly arm around his waist, and together, they hobbled down the hall to the suite's door.

The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, drawing an impressed whistle from Jounouchi as he took in the room.

"Yeah, guess I should've known. You wouldn't be caught dead living like us commoners. Where's the bed in this joint?"

The mention of bed caused something hot and heavy to coil in Seto's navel. Without meaning to, his arm tightened around Jounouchi's neck, which only prompted the other man to grip him tighter, mistaking the action as a plea for more support.

"Bedroom," he moaned, knocking his head against the side of Jounouchi's. He might be imagining it, but he swore Jounouchi shivered and pink flooded down to his neck.

Seconds later, they stumbled into the adjoined bedroom. The spacious room apparently didn't warrant any comments, because Jounouchi deposited Seto on the bed and disappeared from sight.

To say Seto was disappointed was an understatement.

It may be a blessing in disguise. Jounouchi had already done the "decent" thing: extracted him from a dicey situation and brought him to safety. Seto didn't need to embarrass himself in front of the other man any further.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, kicking a leg out blindly.

"Relax, it's me."

Silly though it was, Seto did relax as soon as he registered Jounouchi's voice. His firm but careful touch.

"Here. I got you water from the minibar and a cool towel. It's unopened. I promise."

Seto stared helplessly at the two items being offered to him. Jounouchi made no moves, either. They were at a stalemate. At least until the other man sighed and pressed the moist towel to Seto's sweat-dampened forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, and he unleashed a faint moan at how good and chilly it felt.

"C'mon, you gotta drink the water, too. The whole bottle, then I promise to leave you alone."

Panic spiked through Seto's system. Being alone, something he never minded before, suddenly sounded unbearable. He didn't want Jounouchi to leave.

He reached out. Not to take the proffered bottle, as refreshing as its content may be, but to grab Jounouchi's forearm. Jounouchi froze under his clutch.

"You can't leave. I won't let you," said Seto before he could stop himself.

Jounouchi's breath hitched. As he stared at Seto's face, his eyes darkened with something unspeakable. He licked his lips. "Okay, not leaving. Not tonight. Guess someone's gotta keep an eye on you and make sure things don't take a turn for the worse. But you gotta at least let go of my arm. I'll take the couch outside."

Seto slid closer. "I want you—"

Jounouchi gasped. Seto could kiss him at that instant, but his head spun.

He wanted Jounouchi in every conceivable way. Wanted to feel his naked skin against his skin. Wanted to feel his weight pressing down on him as his cock pushed into Seto's hole. Wanted to shatter apart and then let Jounouchi piece him back together in the afterglow, warm and content.

He thought Jounouchi might grant him those things. If only he'd ask for them. But the words remained stubbornly lodged in his throat as sobriety started to creep in on the edges.

"I want you to stay with me," he whispered, holding Jounouchi's shell-shocked gaze.

Tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. One day, Seto would give voice to the whole truth.

Read other prompt fill ficlets here

#yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #ygo #replies #saiikavon #my fanfiction #writing prompts #phew i didn't expect this one to end up this long when i started writing this morning #definitely just let the vibe carry me on this one #my knowledge of Shanghai nightlife is at least 15 years out of date but i remember drinking so much green tea and whisky #it's a good drink not too overly sweet #but the easier the drink goes down the easier it is to get shitfaced #gonna take a break from tackling more today but I have a long weekend so looking forward to working on more of your guys' requests #watch this space!

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des8pudels8kern · 8 months

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57 - 83, correspondence in a haunted house :3

Codywan, warning for Order 66 and all that implies. Apologies to @ilthit; I know these aren't your blorbos. And apologies to everybody whose blorbos they are for the angst.

---

The hut looks utilitarian from the outside, in the ugly way all buildings designed for hostile environments do - a squat, ugly thing, trying to protect life in the Tatooinian deserts that are so unforgiving to it. It reminds Cody of the war, of efficiently designed ships and makeshift shelters. Obi-Wan always hated the war, despite excelling at it.

"This isn't the kind of place I expected you to settle down in."

Cody's voice is hoarse. Who's to say from what. Lack of use. Too much of it.

"And yet, you found me." Obi-Wan's words flow the same way they always did, smooth like honey and crisp like fresh water, despite his having spent the last however kriffing many years as a hermit with no one to talk to but his personal demons.

Tatooine in general is nothing like the places Obi-Wan used to be most at ease, back when they worked together. He was at home in the lively cityscape of Coruscant, and enjoyed sojourns on planets teeming with green, living things.

"Cody, I-"

His voice is closer now. Cody didn't hear him move.

"Still not one for materialism, I see."

He slowly makes his way through the main room, stepping around sparse furnishings and careful to keep his eyes off the sleeping area.

"Well, a nexu can't change its stripes."

Obi-Wan is in front of him again, as if by magic, or some Force trick. There's a softness in his voice, and it sinks into Cody's gut like a vibroblade.

"I thought I changed." He stares at the ground because he can't look up at Obi-Wan, and he can't look back at the bed.

"Oh darling, that was never you."

"It still is me. I shouldn't have come. I should have stayed away."

"I've missed you."

Obi-Wan's feet shuffle into view, soft cloth coots and soft leg wrappings silent where Cody's beaten armour creaks with each breath he takes.

To be fair, they are rather heaving breaths.

"I've missed you too. Once I could again."

He's through the kitchen, now. There's a pantry to his left, and a bathroom to his right. That's the extend of the hut; there's nowhere else to go.

Obi-Wan stays in front of him, even as he turns around.

"I mourned you. I thought I killed you. When I heard rumours that you were still alive, I couldn't help myself."

There's a side door in the kitchen. He should go there instead of back to the living area. That's where the bed is.

"Cody, dear. You came all the way to see me. Won't you look at me? I promise, all that could happen already has."

He can hear the ventilation unit running to the side. Despite its reassuring hum, Cody can't breathe properly.

"I thought I was safe for you."

"Calm yourself, Cody. You are safe for me now."

They are standing close enough now that, underneath his armour, the hairs on Cody's arms stand on edge.

Cody gives up and looks up. He never could help himself, or he wouldn't have come in the first place.

Obi-Wan's eyes are blue, so blue, and the skin around them is lined with crow's feet and sorrow. Even now, the smile they crinkle with is sad.

"There you are, darling," he says. He's so close, and yet his breath doesn't cool the sweat on Cody's face.

Nothing more does happen as Cody looks at him and Cody, Cody finally gets to see him.

It already has, after all.

Through Obi-Wan, blue, blue, blue like the sky and just as untouchable, he can make out the shape of the corpse tangled in the sheets, a curl of steam still rising from the blaster hole C-2224 put between his eyes.

Good soldiers follow orders, the Jedi are traitors, and Cody sinks to the ground while the illusion of the man who paid for his mistake asks him to breathe.

#star wars #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #not!fic #me last weekend: okay it's decided i will write the fake sith obi wan au #it'll be slow going and take a long time but i'll just have to work at it steadily #me this week: actually let me write a ficlet for this other prompt i still have in my inbox

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leiawritesstories · 23 days

Text

building and building and building

@throneofglassmicrofics April prompts: "Crescendo"

word count: 821

warnings: i'm sorry in advance 🫡

enjoy.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the far end of the long, darkened hallway, a slightly-cracked door released a narrow spill of pale light across the floor. This late at night, all the overhead lights were off, the faintly musty-smelling hallway of the lower level of the music building lit only by a few dimmed panels so that anyone passing through didn't get lost in the dark. Through that cracked door, if one listened closely enough, there came the gentle sounds of a piano, bars of music escaping the room's soundproofing through the slight tilt of the door.

Aelin always came to the piano when she'd had a particularly rough day.

That night was no exception.

An endlessly long day of classes, two meetings that she was late to, critical comments on her latest research paper, spilling her coffee all over the sidewalk because some egotistical freshman hadn't been watching where he and his broccoli hair were going, and as the sour cherry atop her shit milkshake, she'd caught her boyfriend of eight months with his tongue down some other blonde chick's throat.

He hadn't even looked guilty when she caught him. Then again, she hadn't stopped to look, just slapped the shit out of him and left.

It was nearly midnight before she closed her laptop, left the library, and dragged herself over to the music building, descending the stairs and heading to her favorite practice room on muscle memory. Backpack abandoned on the floor, she switched her phone off and tipped her head forwards and rested her hands above the familiar worn ivory and ebony keys, letting the soft rush of the room's fan system push all of her cacophonous thoughts out of her head.

The concerto came easily to her fingertips, its opening chords slow, majestic, dipping from deep and solemn to higher, lighter. Like her mind--except it was still stuck in the low tones. Stuck in the deep, discordant ruts of exhaustion, doubt, and fear.

Her thoughts struck an endless incomplete minor chord, hollow and strained, missing a crucial piece.

At the far end of the hallway, a male figure paused, captivated by the gentle faraway spill of light and sound. Hesitantly, he placed one foot in front of the other, one cautious step at a time until he was nearly at the door, nearly in the light. The piano seemed to mimic his movements, the notes of the concerto building and building and building as he approached--breaking into a crescendo as he stopped, one hand almost at the door, some unseen force stopping him.

A brief beat of silence, and then the beginnings of a gentler melody, a second movement, a mournful, hauntingly beautiful, achingly soft music that ascended slowly, a lover shyly approaching the beloved. The man in the hallway felt tears prickle at his eyes, a rise of emotion drawn both from the heart-tugging tenderness of the piano and from the thick oily weight upon his heart.

The gentle melody intensified, weaving the melodic line into a cascade of rising arpeggios, a wave that built and built and built until it released in a drawn-out trill that trickled into silence before it returned to the initial theme--lingering, longing, a gasping reach across time and space. Another brief silence, and then the explosion of a final movement, sharp and light and dancing, as if the lover from before had turned headlong into another pursuit in attempt to distract from the heartbreak of the earlier movement.

He pushed open the door, let the soft light and grand music spill over him, but found himself rooted in place just inside the doorway as the woman at the piano, her eyes closed and her head tipped back and salt tears tracked down her cheeks, poured the ruins of her soul into the concerto. Her fingers flew over the keys with the lithe grace of a bird in flight, a glorious tidal wave of a crescendo building and building and building and cascading into a bursting crest, one last majestic return to the theme that ended in a single chord, struck five times in close succession, its finality echoing through the space.

Aelin's hands fell limp to the bench, fingers curling around the worn, threadbare cushion and weathered wood as her head tipped back, such unspeakable pain writ large across her features.

Rowan's heart cracked in the key of C minor, a darkly ironic echo of the final notes of the concerto his love had poured out. A plea, a cry, a voice from across an infinite rift, her music flooded his soul with an incommunicable sense of loss.

Knowing that the concerto was a farewell--the barely-open door was a sure sign she wanted him to hear it--he slowly crept backwards, his sneakers silent on the carpet, until he was no more than another blur in the shadowed darkness of the empty hallway.

Until he was completely beyond the reach of his Fireheart's love.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #prompt fill #throne of glass microfics #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aeli #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #a lil angst for your weekend #enjoy!!! love frederick <3 #the angst monster tag

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flowercrowngods · 5 months

Text

wip weekend – make me write (please)

the rules:

vote for the wip you want me to write

send me an ask (anon or not) that i need to answer with a snippet for your choice that has to contain at least as many words as there are votes in the poll

multiple asks are welcome and encouraged 🤍 (i really need to work on these)

the wips:

🌷 who did this to you part 1 is here | post-s3/pre-s4, eddie finds steve at the boathouse badly injured and barely conscious and takes him somewhere safe

🌷 bard!eddie/knight!steve part 1 is here, part 2 is here | pride & prejudice kinda vibe, misunderstandings & miscommunications, steve is a sweetheart, eddie is too dramatic for his own good, they're gonna kiss in the rain soon

🌷 time travel au chapters 1-11 on ao3 | this one is my 65k babie fic where steve is sent back to 1983 and has to do everything over, but alone this time

🌷 captain!steve snippet that barely counts as part 1 is here, the tag w/ other snippets is here | steve is captain of a ship, eddie is a stranger they fished out of the water (or is he?), i'm not saying pirate au meets time travel au but yes i am kinda saying that

🌷 spooky lighthouse au masterpost is here (with parts 1 and 2) | steve winds up trapped at a haunted lighthouse, kinda steampunk, ghost eddie

🌷 post-traumatic friendship these are just vibes yet but after s4 steve finds tommy and carol in the ruins and they re-connect

tagging: no, but please join me and pretend i tagged you if you wanna, idk who does these anymore 🫶

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #screw it we're doing wip weekend!!#because i still have covid and my weekend plans hinge on whether or not the test tomorrow will be positive or not #wip weekend #make me write #make me write game #why are all my wips steddie goddammit but at least they have PLOT (except bard knight they're just drama)#i almost went and included a ‘make it worse/send me a prompt’ button 😂😭

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wlknlr-wolkenleer · 9 days

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UNTRUE RHYMES

REALLY TO MANY DiFFERENT KiNDS OF LOSS iN RECENT TiMES BRiNGiNG TOO MUCH DAMAGE TO MY TATTERED HEART JUST HANGiNG ON DON'T WANT TO GiVE ANOTHER ASSERTiONFiNALLY TODAY ALL MY ENERGY HAS BEEN EXPiRED WiSHiNG i HAD LONG AGO RETiRED WiTH COURAGE iRREVOCABLE TURNED AWAY WHAT REMAiNS iS MOURNiNG, DiSAPPOiNTMENT AND DECEPTiON ALL SEEMS GONETEARS ME APART DRAGS ME DOWN THROUGH UNTRUE…

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#curious #DEPRESSiON #EMOTiONEN #GEDANKENZKiZZEN #iMPRESSiONEN #LYRiK #WEEKEND-WRiTiNG-PROMPT #wlknlr.#wolkenleer

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cabezadeperro · 8 months

Note

#11 laying their hand on the other's neck with cody/obi wan or cody/fox? love your writing <3

hi anon! thanks ❤️

i chose codywan, because it's been a while lol. established relationship, takes place during the war. T, 990w.

---

Cody chokes on dust, heart beating hard within his chest, and vaults over the overturned speeder seconds before the mortar shell hits the ground. The impact rattles his brain within his skull, and he curses with gritted teeth, his back against the belly of the vehicle and the heels of his boots digging grooves in the overturned dirt of the street. He can feel the thump-thump-thump of the cannons against the hard-packed earth—they’re getting closer, making their way through the little town. Cody swallows thickly, trying to think his way around the problem, trying to put away his fury and his frustration—intelligence said Grievous had moved on from the sector, but so what.

He can feel his men’s attention on him. Boil’s watching him from the alley on the other side of the street, the white of his armour turned dusty orange with dust, and a trooper whose name he doesn’t know is at Cody’s side. He must have followed when Cody jumped over the speeder—that’s the only reason he’s not dead. Cody looks around the felled speeder and sees a twitching pair of white boots, blood on the dirt, hands scrabbling at the rubble of what used to be a house. He’s one of the new kids, his armour clear of paint, the chest plate not sitting quite right on his thinner chest, and he kneels there, rifle hugged against his chest, shaking so hard his shell is rattling.

The general is—somewhere. He took three squads and a few speeders and took the mountain path. If everything went well, he should be on his way back, and the tactical droid should be gone, but that matters little. Cody has half a company and a couple hundred battle droids bearing down, and Kenobi might get there on time, or he might not.

He’s terrified. He’s sweating under his blacks, his heart beating so hard he feels dizzy, and it’s like his lungs have stopped functioning properly, oxygen not quite making it to his chest, to his brain. Cody licks his lips and starts barking orders, and when they move out, he makes sure the kid is behind him.

Cody gets them through. He shoots and reloads and keeps on moving, his HUD a riot of colour, his ears ringing with the noise of falling shells, with his men’s screams, with his own choking breaths. Later he will be able to recount every single choice he made, every single move, he will be able to explain everything he did and didn’t do, but it will feel as if he’s talking about somebody else. First, the horror; then, everything else, his mind doing its best to excise the horror, to save Cody from himself.

Cody gets them through, Cody gets himself through it and back to base, back to the tent he shares with the general. Kenobi’s not there—Cody saw him, a flash of tan crossing the camp towards the command centre; he knows he’s alright—but he’ll be back soon. His post-action debriefs to the Council are short, mostly out of necessity, and as much as the man enjoys talking he never talks to them long.

Cody exhales. He takes off his helmet for the first time in hours and blinks at the dim darkness within the tent, ears still ringing. He wants to sit down, but he’s disgusting, and he doesn’t want to get his bedsheets dirty: in the end, it occurs to him he can just sit down on the tarp on the floor, and that’s what he does. He leaves his bucket at his side and tugs off his gloves, his gauntlets, his bracers, and then starts it on his boots, leaving it all where it falls, a certain kind of spiteful pleasure in the implied disrespect.

Everything hurts. Cody wiggles his bare toes and scoots backwards until his spine bumps against his locker, and then he stays there, surrounded by armour debris. He leans back, looks at the ceiling of the tent, and thinks: I want a shower. I’m hungry. I should eat something and get back to work.

And he will do all of those things, but not yet. First, he closes his eyes and breathes out, sitting alone in his tent, his men talking and walking and working just beyond its thin walls, and he kind of wants to cry, kind of wants to get in bed and never come out again.

“Commander?”

Heck.

Cody lifts his bed. Kenobi’s back, looking as tired and grimy as Cody feels. His eyebrows are raised: he looks down at the armour pieces on the floor, at Cody sitting there, half out of his blacks, and he sighs.

He starts picking up the armour pieces and stacking up on Cody’s rack. He’s slower than Cody, than any of Cody’s brothers—he’s half-taking his time, his curiosity obvious in the way he holds the plastoid alloy, half-finding out where everything goes on the fly. Cody should stand up and tell him to leave it, but he doesn’t want to, and the general seems more than happy to find himself picking up after Cody, so Cody lets him be.

Once he’s done he toes off his boots and then goes to sit with Cody on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. Cody huffs and moves to the side, and when Kenobi raises an arm in invitation, Cody ducks under it, leans his head against Kenobi’s shoulder. Kenobi shifts under his weight, and they resettle, Kenobi with his right hand on Cody’s neck, right over his pulse, Cody wrapping tired fingers around a bony knee.

Kenobi rubs his cheek on Cody’s curls, brushes a kiss against the scar of his temple.

“Cody. Commander mine. You stink,” he says. Cody can feel his lips moving against his skin, his moustache soft.

He pinches him, hard, in the thigh. Kenobi jumps and curses at him, but he doesn’t move away, and Cody grins, and closes his eyes.

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #june prompts #maría writes #aaaand. we're done with this batch of prompts lol #i'll probably open prompts again sometime this weekend

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patron-saints · 2 months

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fma rareship weekend: day 1, nonsexual intimacy

written for @fma-rareships's day 1! this fic is olivier x izumi and takes place just slightly after the events of recognition (but you can read it alone!)

~~~

“you’ll laugh.”

“i won’t laugh.”

“you’ll want to laugh. you won’t, but i’ll see the amusement in your eyes anyway.”

“i won’t laugh. not even with my eyes.”

olivier sighs. the dream of taking a bath with izumi is one she’s held for a long time. when she’d been sick, olivier had washed her many times, but always from outside the bath, always clothed. and generally she’d preferred it that way. but sometimes it had taken all of her self-restraint not to just hop in.

two things have always stopped her. the first was a terrifying set of early briggs memories. being one of the few girls and the only out trans person, any kind of personal hygenine was a deeply private matter, no matter how much bonding her fellow greens seemed to get from showering all at the same time. the second was just…connected to her stoneness. that if she shared a bath with a partner, maybe… well. she looks at her fiancée. “perhaps… i would need to keep a pair of swim trunks on.”

izumi doesn’t laugh. she doesn’t even, to her credit, look the slightest bit amused. “did you bring a pair?”

olivier nods. izumi keeps saying they’re going to take a day trip out to the lake on one of these visits, but they’ve never done it. she brings swim attire anyway though, just in case.

“well!” izumi says, and that settles that.

izumi strips before olivier can even offer to help her with her clothes, and she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s brazenly watching olivier, either. that’s fine, she’s allowed to do that. they are engaged, after all. but olivier’s still flattered.

izumi parades down the hall, but olivier throws a towel around herself first, walking behind and shaking her head with a smile. both sig and alex are at alex’s tonight, so they have the place to themselves. it’s nice, and it makes her feel a bit safer about trying something new.

the tub is already full when olivier follows her into the bathroom. she’s not sure if izumi filled it ahead of time or pulled the world’s fastest alchemical trick in the few seconds before olivier walked in, but either way, it’s full, it’s soapy, and when she dips her fingers in, it’s warm.

the curtises have an absolutely massive tub. they get in together, slowly, negotiating space until olivier has her back against the wall of the tub, and izumi is facing her, looking like she wants to turn around.

olivier beckons her over, and she does turn, scooting so her back is pressed against olivier’s chest and she can stretch her legs forward a little.

and then olivier melts.

it’s the heat, it’s izumi, it’s the contact, it’s the trust, and all of a sudden she’s just. the happiest she’s been since izumi proposed to her, really.

she sighs, and presses a kiss into the side of izumi’s neck.

izumi hums. her hands search for olivier’s in the water and olivier grants them to her.

“you know,” izumi says, “i wore my bathing suit for seven months after.”

she doesn’t have to say after what. she never does.

olivier doesn’t answer, she just squeezes her hand.

“it took a long time to heal.”

olivier can only imagine what the massive scar running across her abdomen must have looked like originally, and how looking at it must have been a reminder of everything that had happened, everything she had done.

“and then i didn’t want to see it, even after it had…”

olivier knows that izumi hates talking about it. about anything to do with it. she’s doing it for her, to explain why she didn’t blink when olivier asked to be clothed. she doesn’t have to do that, but as she does, the warmth in olivier’s heart spills over. she pulls izumi even closer to her chest and kisses her shoulders, her neck, anywhere she can reach.

olivier has no proof but she knows izumi’s smiling.

“this is just to say i—“ she gasps a little at a particularly well placed kiss. “understand.”

olivier hums in acknowledgment, kisses her one more time, and then leans back, letting izumi lean back further against her. “thank you.”

#fma rareship weekend 2024 #fmarareshipweekend2024 #fmab #prompt: non-sexual intimacy #olizumi #olivier mira armstrong x izumi curtis #izumi curtis #olivier mira armstrong #BTW!!!!! the curtises bathroom is absolutely stacked with accessibility devices #didn't write them in here because olivier doesn't notice them anymore after so many visits #but they have so much stuff like shower chairs #handles etc #there's no way their bathroom wouldn't be so so so so accessible and comfortable for izumi #fma

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