enemies to lovers ‘later in their life’ prompts
later in their life; post-book things like getting married, living together. feel free to use :)
“can you pass me the s—“ “no.” “………. at what point do you become mature?”
“i’m tireddd.” *in a whiny voice* “i’m tired.” *mocking them*
“hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway
random races. waking up and brushing? i’ll do it five hours before you even begin dreaming. walking to the kitchen to make breakfast? i can flip fifteen pancakes before you can blink.
“you said you loved me first, remember?” “…. did i?”
everything is still a competition. i don’t care if both our families are watching i can and will scarf this all down and beat you
“cant believe we fell in love. i swore i would never become this trope.” “who doesn’t love a good cliche?”
“kiss?” and an immediate joking “no” but they’re already leaning in with a small smile
both being very stubborn and like carbon copies of the other so small domestic things trip them up
^ like they’re both lying down on the couch like “who’s turn is it to do the dishes?” “… i think it’s yours.” “but i did them yesterday.” “no you most definitely did not—“
“i missed you.” and with a small smile, “really?” and an annoyed “no i’m lyin— WHAT DO YOU THINK???”
“must you argue with me about everything?” genuinely annoyed because they just want to choose what to eat for breakfast and the other one just wants to argue
BUT ALSO “must you argue with me about everything?” and it’s with the fondest smile ever as they run a hand through the other’s hair
“where are the onions?” “…. you called me at 2:00pm on a work day to ask me where the onions are??? WHEN YOU BOUGHT THEM LAST?????????” “… if you didn’t know where they were you could’ve just said that but whatever.”
“do you fancy getting married?” “do i f— DO I FANCY????? WE’RE NINETEEN.” “yeah but i love you.”
“did you do the laundry?” “did YOU do the laundry?” “oh splendid i’m married to a seven year old.”
a petty argument and the make-up being all reluctant
^ like “and by the way, i hate your new haircut.” and the other responding with a smile and a “yeah?” because they know with a glance that it’s not true at all
“i love you.�� “… yeah. you too, i guess.” “….? say you love me.” “…” “i’m going to call your mom.” “… that is so low.”
it’s also important to have moments where they acknowledge that the enemies part is in the past and as much as they joke they both love each other very much
^“can we be serious for a second?” and an immediate sobering up
“i love you like, a crazy amount, you know.” “i love you even more.” “okay…. just let me have this one maybe.”
them learning each other’s hobbies & things they enjoy doing, going out of their way to learn and enjoy it too
“let’s go stargaze.” “i’d honestly rather do anything else.” but they go and just stare at the other one the whole time (and the other is aware)
5K notes
·
View notes
Kay but also? 👀👀👀 Do you think you'll ever share a screenshot of your TAV from bg3? Bc I truely enjoy all the unique characters ppl come out with, names backgrounds, everything?
This is such a boring answer, but my Tav is literally just me 😭
I know a big component of DnD is to play as a made-up character, but since there's a bunch of options for customization in the game, I wanted to see if I could make a character that looks like me and I got surprisingly close!
Fittingly, my plan was also to play my first run as if I had been isekai'd into Faerûn, and pick the dialog options that were closest to what I would have said myself if I had been in those situations
But anyways, super sweet of you to ask, I'm really sorry for the boring answer though 😅
125 notes
·
View notes
red-eye
Harry got home a little after two in the morning, bleary-eyed, mouth bitter with the taste of airport canned-air and mints. Rolled the suitcase as quietly as he could, probably making a racket: two in the morning, and he was dizzy-tired, all emptied out from the long layover, and the two-hour wait on the runway, and the taxi ride he absolutely insisted on when his flight was delayed yet again.
Gently, gently opening the door, which creaked so loud the whole world had to have heard. Sneaking inside his own apartment: Draco would be fast asleep, would need to be up at half-five tomorrow for work. Harry’s chest squeezed at the thought, Draco all wrapped up in their duvet, rumpled and sleep-warm, and—
On the sofa, all twisted in between the cushions, arresting and lovely and still in his fancy trousers. With his mobile clenched in his fist. His neck’s going to kill him, and Harry forgot how to breathe.
“Darling,” barely able to swallow the grin. “Draco. Darling.”
“Hmm?” long eyelashes blinking. “Harry? What’s the—fuck, I fell asleep?” grumbling himself up into sitting, flushed and so, so, sweet. “I was going to stay up.” Frowning. “I was going to pick you up!”
“Sorry,” laughing, wrapping an arm around him, trailing kisses down his nose, cheek, neck. Draco’s scent, warm and lemony and familiar, intoxicating. “Silly creature. You have work in the morning.”
“I haven’t seen you in ten days,” Draco yawned into his neck. “Did you bring me anything.”
Still laughing, “Of course. C’mon, let’s get you to bed. It’s so late and you’re—darling, come on.”
To Draco’s grey eyes blinking up at him all sparkling with delight. “Gift first. You know the rules, Potter.” There was a mark on his cheek from where he rested it on his wrist. Harry felt lightheaded with it, a rush of fizzy, scorching affection.
“All right, but don’t get your hopes up. It’s truly a small one this time.”
Leaning away for his case with Draco hanging on to him, smile so thick it hurt his face. “You’re not making it easier,” mumbled into his hair, and a kiss on top of his head, irresistible. “Here, darling.” From the front zip pocket he produced the tiny stone, dark grey with a thin white vein crossing it. “From an actual river this time. I woke up at five the last day of the conference and hiked up the hill.”
“You’re mad,” Draco said, but his smile gleamed. “It’s hideous. I love it.”
“I’m the mad one,” herding him up and then down the corridor, “it’s three in the morning, you absolute knobhead. You’ve no time to sleep.”
“What a tragedy,” Draco said, then turned to pull on Harry’s tie, to pull him closer. “Suppose you’ll have to find a way to keep me up.”
Harry was knackered. He hadn’t slept well in ten days and the flight, and the delay, and the layover. In his own bedroom, with the sheets that smelled like heaven, with the soft light and, god, his bed, his real actual bed, so inviting and so—looked at Draco, felt this warmth sizzling in his belly and growing only warmer.
“Suppose so,” he conceded with a grin, and kissed him again.
It’s been ten days. The plant on the cabinet grew at least three new leaves. Harry missed this place so badly he was sick with it: now, with his partner in his arms, with his back muscles screaming and a no-sleep headache—now he was happy enough to melt. Did, a little, in Draco’s arms.
Home.
(For flufftober day 23. Find the soft AO3 collection here).
239 notes
·
View notes