#thanks for the prompt <3 I had fun writing this <3
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“Don’t leave my sight again” for Kennedy and Bucky! Only if you want! I love your writing! <3
HI SWEET ANON!!!!! thank you so so much for popping this in the askbox and for the love on my writing! it means SO MUCH!! i had a lot of fun with this one - we went in a direction i wanted to explore a bit more with the kennedy x bucky dynamic, especially their ever-present bickering about sports with their (respective) red sox and yankees, hehe. i really enjoyed this prompt because i could still utilize the dynamic i wanted, but inject the prompt into the writing in a way that was more heartfelt and meaningful than anything, so, please enjoy!! :D
lips itching to grin
(a/n): kennedy x bucky girlies, we're back and better than ever and focusing on the early days again with these two, specifically in the ever-present baseball rivalry (with a side of heartfelt and slightly flirty banter that neither side may or may have not predicted.....). ps: there's a whole lot of baseball references in here along with a deep dive into the red sox and yankees baseball almanac of 1942 players, as (to preface) they discuss a yankees x red sox game from 1942, with some of their own perspectives (though we enter the conversation in the middle lol). please enjoy!!! <3333
"Alright, well, runners on first and second, game-tying run at second, bottom of the 5th," Kennedy started, as she watched Paulina offer one of the newer replacements a dance as Billie Holiday sung with those swing trumpets over their heads, "you got Joe DiMaggio coming up with two outs. Dick Newsome's already at 78 pitches."
"Easy," Bucky offers as Paulina and the replacement move out towards the center of the floor and start dancing - Kennedy likes seeing her smile, "DiMaggio hits an RBI double and makes it to second base. Then you ain't even tied up anymore. Score's 4-3."
"But," Kennedy started, glancing upwards at him with a look as she tilted her head, a smile on her cheeks, "you got Charlie Keller up next. Getting to that point in your roster where it gets a little….hairy."
"Says the one with Joe Cronin on your-"
"Focus." Kennedy said snapping in front of his face, bringing a smirk onto his lips as he looked back at her, "We're talking about the fucking Yankees right now, Bucky."
"Don't call them the fucking Yankees."
"They're the fucking Yankees to me, got it?" she said and she watched Bucky turn from his position leaned up backwards against the bar to actually facing her, "What?"
"You get really passionate about your Red Sox, huh?" he said, leaning his hand up against the side of his face and watching her, "I'd hate to mess with you-"
"You already have." she told him in a sing-song voice as she turned and took a sip of her beer and looked out to the dance floor again, "Try growing up as the only girl in a house full of brothers. You either play baseball or you are the baseball, I'm afraid." Bucky snickered at that and sipped his own drink - bourbon maybe, she could smell it on his lips from here.
"What the hell kinda baseball did the Farley brothers play?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Clearly not that great of baseball, you're all Red Sox fans."
"Says the one who willingly became a Yankees fan."
"Willingly-"
"At least I grew up in the area! It makes sense!"
"Can't knock me, Yankees' got a fan all the way from Wisconisn - can't say the same about other teams now, huh?" Bucky said leaning towards her with a grin, "Gotcha there, huh?" Kennedy watched him.
"Bill Dickey comes up and goes out swinging," Kennedy said, staring him down, "Red Ruffing's taken outta the game. Atley Donald's up on the mound. Johnny Pesky's up to bat. Donald walks him. Tony Lupien comes up - an absolute bomb outta the field. Rest of the game is a no-go. Red Sox win. 6-4."
"For someone who despises the Yankees, you sure do know a whole lot about them." Bucky said, sipping his drink again, "It's cute. You trying to impress me with that Yankees stuff."
"I just know a whole lot about games where my Red Sox win," Kennedy mouthed back, the tops of her cheeks burning, "you'd know if I was trying to impress you."
"When's that happened?"
"Never."
"Huh."
"Exactly." she said, sending him a look and he smirked again, his eyes watching her in that manner they always seemed to, "What's that look for?"
"What'd you usually play?" he asked her, that lazy grin growing on his face, "C'mon, I know you were probably in a group of kids that got together to play. What were ya? No….let me guess. First base, you're pretty tall." She stared at him and raised a brow. "No?"
"What about this," she started, standing up straight and holding out her arms, "screams first base, huh?"
"Fine. Shortstop. Speedy, quick-witted-"
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Don't get in over your head."
"Continue…." Kennedy said with a smirk.
"Shortstop." Bucky said, "Final answer."
"Ding-ding, you're correct," she said with a smile, "usually my older brother and I fought over that position. He usually gave in."
"You were convincing enough." Bucky said, sipping his drink again.
"I was better than him." she offered back, catching that look on his face, "What, like it's hard to believe?"
"Nah, nah," Bucky said shaking his head back and forth and grinning, before avoiding her questioning entirely, "you like hitting?"
"Usually was middle of the pack, sometimes cleanup, I flip-flopped." she said with a winning smirk, "Wasn't often I got cleanup though, my older brother, he's a fucking giant, like 6 foot 5 or something - Bobby - he usually could drive in any and all runners. Sometimes he let me in the spot. It was usually some stupid fight we'd have, but he'd let me have my ways sometimes. Which was nice." Bucky grinned at her again and she couldn't tell whether that was just how he decided to look at people or if there was something else going on behind those eyes and that smile. But she just left it for the time being and took to sipping her drink again.
An upbeat Ozzie Nelson beat came over above them, which immediately sent Kennedy thinking of home again - its summer, the windows are open, her mother's got the radio playing the music she always used when cleaning the house; a mix of Artie Shaw, Billie Holiday, Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman. Sometimes even some Ray Noble. Any sort of music as such would remind her of that time in her youth, racing around the house with her brothers, this music in her ears, the kitchen smelling like lemon soap and freshly scrubbed, the linens hanging outside, the sound of her mother sweeping and shooing away her brothers or their dog, Gunny.
"My ma loves this music," Kennedy said with a smile, looking out to the dance floor as people danced and clung onto one another, as if it were the only thing they had apart from those flying coffins - human touch, more important than anything when they were here, "she played it all the time at home."
"She a big band fan?" Bucky asked her, and she looked to him with a smile and nodded. The corners of his eyes grew soft - she noticed he did that sometimes when he was really listening to you; really, really listening. When she had first noticed it, she'd been taken back at the intensity with which he would watch and listen, but he did it so subtly she had never really noticed until now.
"Always has been." Kennedy said with a nod, "I mean, with five sons and one daughter, there isn't a whole lot of space to listen to quiet jazz, or…something or other. Everyone always wanted big band being played." Bucky let out a bark of a chuckle and then got quiet again, glancing her way with that cautious look painted on his face. He knocked her shoulder lightly.
"And you?" he asked her, a slightly playful look on his face, lips itching to grin again.
"What about me?"
"What do you like?" he asked her, "What does Kennedy Farley dance around to her when no one's looking?" Kennedy couldn't help but laugh, a real genuine laugh and shake her head.
"Usually Benny Goodman or Glenn Miller."
"Like mother, like daughter." Bucky said with a smile, "What's she doing now ya think? Your ma?" Kennedy shrugged, feeling slightly homesick at the thought of her Ma, at home, with all her children off to war, or college, or school, her husband off to work, leaving her in that big house all alone. Her stomach twisted unpleasantly and she couldn't fight the sad expression off her face.
"Probably getting dinner ready - she makes a damn good beef stew. Chop the carrots, onions, celery. Let the beef sit and marinate for a while. The whole house would smell almost like Christmas Eve," Kennedy said softly, before quirking out a grin, "waiting for Dad to get home from work." She stared at Bucky who watched her back. "Your ma?"
"Much of the same probably." Bucky said, leaning up against the bar and schooling his features evenly, "Cooking up dinner, waiting for my dad to get home." Bucky smiled almost bittersweetly. "Wish she didn't have to be there alone, ya know?"
"Yeah," Kennedy said quickly, her emotions warping with her intense want to berate him yet again over baseball, but her softer side took over and she looked at him, "I don't doubt though if I went home, she'd be telling me 'Don't leave my sight again.'" Kennedy said with a small smile. "Broke her damn heart for me to come out here. Only daughter. One of the youngest." Bucky watched her, his face quiet, his expressions even and he seemed at once, intently focused purely on her.
"She didn't want me to come." Kennedy told him honestly, feeling like if she didn't get it off her chest now, she never would tell a soul, "Here. Flying B-17s, being a gunner, getting my hands on a .50 cal. She hated the idea of all of it. But I guess she let me go because she knew it was what I wanted. What I needed. For me." She looked over at Bucky and saw nothing but that gentle, fond expression on his face. She smiled slightly. He smiled right back, almost instantly.
"Well, I'm glad you're here," he said, watching as her face morphed from sadness to mild surprise, to which he laughed at, "yeah, I swear to ya, Farley. I really am. Hey, who was it that saw you shooting that .50 cal back in training and hand-picked you for my gunners, alright?" She was quiet. "That was me."
"And then of course Birdie took you under her wing and the rest is history, but I didn't forget that at some point in time, you were one of my waist gunners," he said, knocking her shoulder lightly again, "a good one at that, you know that?" Just hearing Birdie's name made her heart squeeze.
"It's really nothing special-"
"You shot Expert, Farley," he said, holding her gaze with a firm look, "that sends eyes wandering, I promise ya."
Oh.
She watched him for a moment before her fingers were getting twitchy and she needed something for them and to get herself to look away from that look in his eyes.
"Cigarette?" she asked him, pulling from his gaze to dig her hand into her pockets and produce the slightly crumpled cigarette packet she always had on hand. He watched her before slowly nodding.
"Sure." he said, as she innately popped open the top and produced two cigarettes, sliding one onto her lip and the other into his own hands, "Thanks."
"The least I could do for a compliment like that." she said, almost bashfully, as he placed it on his lip with a chuckle.
"First time anyone's ever told you that?"
"People don't tell me a whole lot of things like that ever so," Kennedy started, before attempting to smile, "yeah, first time for everything" Bucky watched her curiously as he produced a lighter and leaned forward to light up her cigarette before doing his own.
"Really?" he asked her, almost surprised - why would he need to act surprised, why did he even bother to care? She nodded. Bucky watched her for a moment, fingertips drumming against his cigarette as he stared at her; his gaze not one she was entirely even turning away from or wanting to.
"Cleanup." She stared at him, raising a brow.
"Tell Bobby Farley that you shoulda been in cleanup in the lineup." Bucky said, turning towards the bar again and calling for another drink, "Shortstops are usually closer to the top of the lineup anyway, right?" Kennedy watched him, her heart pounding.
"Bucky-"
"I woulda put you in that clean-up spot any day of the week, believe me." he said, smiling at her, with a grin, before turning to the bar and getting his drink. And she recited deep from within her mind, something Bobby Farley had taught her well and good in their screaming matches - 4th slot in the lineup, cleanup spot, usually one of the more or most important players in the lineup; they're powerful, drive in runs and more than anything are one thing - consistent.
#OKAYYYYY#BUT THIS WAS SO FUN#i had been wanting to do this piece for a WHILE#like a straight up talking baseball piece#AND HERE IT IS!!!!#always the not-so-subtle flirting going on with this too like#yall#hellooooo#we see you and hear you loud and clear#the cleanup/shortstop compliment too?#yeah in baseball terms that's a pretty top tier compliment - people must trust u a whole lot#LIKE OK BUCKY I SEE U#(communicating in the sports language she thrives in best <3333 yelling about sports teams ahhhh true love)#kennedy u will always be iconic lets be fr#kennedy x bucky#kennedy farley#bucky egan#bucky egan x oc#john egan x oc#also hi: birdie faulkner mention !!!!!#and YES kennedy *was* a waist gunner for bucky a long while ago#I JUST THEM!!! THEM (distant screams) brb dont mind me fangirling over them in my head (remembers i must continue to write them to continue#to fangirl HEHE)#THANK YOU ALLLLL!!!! <3333
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"you look better in my clothes." for Mizzy!!!!!
A night away in a motel in the middle of nowhere wasn’t everyone’s idea of a romantic getaway, but for Izzy and Murdock, the fact that it was near a small forest and had mountains to hike was good enough.
But currently, it was raining outside and Murdock had driven into the town to grab food, so that left Izzy, sitting in the bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Murdock had bought her at a gas station on the drive up, Wearing one of Murdock’s flannels and watching tv.
Local news was always fun, tonight's top story was a man who found another man's escaped sheep, thrilling stuff.
The door unlocked and opened, rain lashed into the carpet for a second before a drenched Murdock slammed it shut with his hips.
“I got Indian..even grabbed some paper plates from the dollar store.”
“You spoil me.”
As Murdock removed his drenched jacket and cap, Izzy got out of bed, leaving the warmth of the sheets.
The curry smelt good, so something decent had come from Murdock looking as if he had just climbed into the shower fully clothed.
Thunder rumbled outside.
“Is that my shirt?” He asked, eying her over as she pulled the food out of the plastic bag it had come in.
She knew his question came more from the fact that underneath the shirt he could see the lace of her underwear, Red, which was his favorite color on her.
“Perhaps.”
He chuckled “You look better in my clothes anyway..”
She smiled, “Thanks Doc.”
“Lace makes me itchy anyway…”
She laughed “Go dry off you goofball…I’ll dish up food.”
#oc: isabelle walton#howling mad murdock#mizzy#thanks for the prompt <3 I had fun writing this <3#they make me so happy
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Any thoughts on warlock!Tav? I don't know which would be more fun, having Raphael as a patron or Raphael being jealous of Tav's patron 🤭
They were four moves in, and Tav had yet to learn why Raphael had called her to the Devil’s Den.
She doubted it was as simple as a ‘friendly match of lanceboard’; there was always something just shy of his ambitious reach, and she was waiting for when he would be forthright about what that something was.
Thus far for their appointment, the fiend (in his mortal disguise) offered only polite pleasantries; an inquiry about how she was faring after being rid of the tadpole, a recommendation that she try a glass of ‘perfectly aged wine he’d been saving for her’, and, of course, a ‘friendly’ game of lanceboard (to ‘personally witness her strategic skills in action’).
And here they were; barely talking as she concentrated with a pinched brow on what move to make next, all while Raphael stared at her with a glint in his eye and the faintest of smirks on his lips.
She was a piece down (lanceboard was not a strong suit of hers), meaning he was in the lead.
Which was probably the main reason as to why he looked so arrogant and relaxed.
Tav bit her lip in question of whether to move her priest or send out another pawn.
“Am I correct in the knowledge that you’ve been in a pact with your patron for a few years?” he asked.
More pleasantries - so that the scales of their appointment didn’t tip towards awkwardness.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Tav answered softly. The reply was automatic; all attention was centered on the game before her.
She wanted to win - especially when her opponent was none other than Raphael.
The white priest slid to a free space, and, in response, Raphael swiftly mirrored a similar move with his black priest.
“Tell me about this patron of yours, my dear.”
Her previously focused gaze flicked up from the board to meet that oh-so-devilish glint, and, in response, Tav’s eyes mirrored his in forming a glint of their own; it was a mischievous twinkle that her fey patron would appreciate and applaud - hence why the pact was offered to her to begin with.
After all, it wasn’t every day that a mortal outtricked a trickster in the middle of a dangerous wood.
“They’re from the feywild,” Tav said, her brow pinching again in pretend consideration of her the next (literal) move. Yes, lanceboard was assuredly not her strong suit, but games involving ‘Reactions from Raphael’ were a favored pastime she excelled in. “I’d ask if you knew him, or of him, but he never gave me his name…”
She glanced up, and at the mention of ‘him’, a muscle twitched in Raphael’s cheek.
“Perhaps you could describe this patron, and I would know their name? I’m versed enough in the archfey and the dealings of their ilk,” he said with the offhanded shrug of a shoulder.
What a wonderful idea!
“That’s a wonderful idea!” At that, Tav mentally bid the game of lanceboard farewell. She lifted a foot to sit on the cushion with her and rested her elbow upon her knee. Her cheek leaned into the palm of her hand, and a wistful expression was painted upon her face. “With as often as I think of him, he should be easy enough to recall…”
Raphael’s glint was becoming lost to an approaching fire on the horizon.
“He’s tall, dark, handsome - the classic, romantic type from the stories. His hair color reminds me of yours, actually, but it’s a fair bit longer - goes past his shoulders, and not a strand is out of place. Now that I think about it, he’s about your height, too. Slightly less broad-shouldered, more wiry I’d say, but still quite muscular. Not sure what he was doing in the middle of the woods without a shirt, but, hey, that’s the fey for you…”
None of it was true; Puck was a small and sprightly creature with rosy cheeks and other impish features. His hair was not long and tidy, having been an unkempt mess adorned with twigs and leaves at the time of their meeting, and also unlike her false rendering, the fey’s childlike frame had been dressed in greenery and animal skins.
“He’s very strong! Lifted me easily - ah, forgive me. That probably doesn’t help you much…”
Raphael was battling a sneer, and his relaxed pose was becoming less relaxed the more she went on.
So Tav did the next best thing.
She continued.
“There was a…” She tried to find the correct word while miming in the air with her free hand. “Certain regalness about him. I thought he might be a part of some high court of some kind. He appeared in fog and left in fog, but not before offering me a pact - which I accepted, naturally.” Tav sighed. “The whirlwind encounter, however brief it was, left me breathless. I’m so grateful to have lost my way in the woods that day.”
Raphael looked livid, and she could imagine Puck clapping.
She pushed a pawn forward. “Do you know of any fey by that description?”
“It is unfortunate that I do not,” he deadpanned.
The glint had long been lost to the fire of his burning stare.
“I believe it’s your move, Raphael.”
The cambion worked his jaw, and his tongue ran across his top teeth, emitting a slight sucking sound.
He was determining his move, but it was not a move involving lanceboard.
Tav dropped her innocence along with her tone.
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
His tone dropped to match hers. “And if I was, Little Mouse?”
Humored, she huffed a breath and smiled.
“Why did you have me come?”
Raphael glanced at the board and aggressively (recklessly) took her pawn with his priest. “I wished to become your patron.”
Oh…
An exciting prospect that she’d thought about but never considered as being a possibility...
His interest in her… did it mirror her interest in him?
“I’ll tell you what,” Tav snatched his priest with her rook. “If you win this match, I’ll see what I can do about breaking my pact with Puck, and I’ll happily sign a new pact with you.”
Disdain drained the color from his face.
“Puck,” he sneered, and it was then that he knew he’d been played. “Like attracts like! I should not be surprised that one chaotic wretch of a creature was drawn to another!”
“On the contrary, surely you also believe that opposites attract?” Tav smiled with a tilt of her head. “Or have you changed your mind about wanting me, a ‘chaotic wretch’, to be your warlock?”
Raphael’s silence was confirmation that he had not changed his mind (though it disagreed with his contemptuous stare and scrunched nose).
A moment passed.
“And if you win, my dear?”
“I want a written and signed letter from you stating that you lost our lanceboard game and that you were jealous of Puck.”
The huff that left him was not the humored kind.
“I agree to the terms of this match, and you are to forfeit should I get the slightest whiff of any tricks.”
“Good thing my sleight of hand work doesn’t smell,” Tav said before dramatically cracking her knuckles.
Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “No cheating of any kind, you fey-touched miscreant.”
Tav’s bright laugh filled the room, seemingly disarming her fiend of an opponent.
Her poor skills in strategy were likely to lose the match for her, but Tav was not bothered by the potential loss.
She’d won the more important game.
#I had a lot of fun with this!#thanks for the prompt!#my writing#raphael x tav#raphael x tav fanfiction#baldur’s gate 3#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#Warlock!Tav#raphael the cambion#Raphael bg3#Answered
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V, JoeNicky & Nile
V. An abandoned or empty place.
When Joe pulls the sheet off the couch it kicks up enough dust that it makes Nile sneeze. The couch underneath is old, wooden frame rotting, fabric stained and full of holes where moths have eaten away at it.
“Sorry,” Joe says to Nile when she finally manages to get the sneezing under control. “Didn’t realise it was that bad.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks down at the couch. Nile looks it over.
“There’s no saving that,” she says, wiping at her eyes. She can heal from falling over ten stories, but she can’t get away from allergies.
Joe frowns. “I liked that couch.”
The house is older than anywhere else they’ve brought her, and has been abandoned for long enough that it’s falling apart. But through some trick of posing as their own sons, or something, Joe and Nicky still own it, even if there’s a giant hole in the roof and all the windows are broken. Why they’d decided to come back here, Nile doesn’t know, but it’s a nice enough area, and a good distraction from, well. Everything. Growing back a leg, she’s discovered, is not fun.
From one of the other rooms – she thinks it’s the kitchen, she’s not actually sure where Nicky had wandered to – there’s the sound of something breaking and crashing to the ground, and a muffled curse.
Joe makes a questioning noise in the vague direction of the kitchen. A few moments later, Nicky appears in the doorway, covered in dust. “I am okay,” he says. “But I think we will need to go out to eat tonight.”
“Nothing?”
Nicky shakes his head. “Unless you want to start a fire and go hunt some rabbits.”
Joe grins. “Just like old times, right?”
Nile shakes her head firmly, which makes Nicky smile. She loves them, but there’s no way they’re doing that.
“We can probably clear out enough space in here,” Joe says, gesturing to the floor. “Get the sleeping bags out of the car. Probably have to start a fire anyway, but…”
Nile looks around again while Joe says something to Nicky in Arabic that makes him laugh. The house is falling apart, sure, but it’s structurally stable, and the bones are all there. It could be something. They’ve got time to make it something.
Nicky is the one who goes for pizza in the end – he doesn’t trust Nile and Joe to order it if left to their own devices – while they try to clear out a space in the living room. Eventually, though, after Nile has another sneezing fit, Joe suggests they just take the sleeping bags outside instead, which works out a lot better. He sets about starting a fire with practiced ease while Nile sets out the sleeping bags around it. They’re far enough away from civilisation that she can’t hear cars passing by, which is kind of surreal, and the stars are brighter than she’s ever seen them.
When Nicky gets back, two boxes balanced on one arm and a bottle of wine in the other, he looks over their makeshift camp and laughs. “Just like old times, then?” he asks.
Joe grins. “Except we have pizza.”
“And actual sleeping bags,” Nile says.
“Ah, these modern inventions could never quite match the comfort of a pile of furs,” Joe says wistfully. Nile gives him a look. She’s ninety percent sure that one’s bullshit, but she can never quite tell with him.
Nicky sets down the pizza boxes, and jogs back to the car to grab the pack of plastic wine glasses they’d bought before they got here.
“We should’ve bought marshmallows,” Nile says. “Could have made s’mores.”
“Well, we’ll have to go to the hardware store tomorrow anyway,” Joe points out. “And I think it’ll be a little while before we can actually sleep in there.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow,” Nicky agrees.
#neon answers#materassassino#neon writes#kaysanova#nile freeman#what's going on here? who knows. they're renovating an old safehouse in the middle of nowhere#why isnt andy there? off on a solo self discovery road trip she calls em sometimes#i like to think its a really old one and when they were deciding where to go joe was getting super nostalgic about it and talking about it#to nicky like habibi.... do you remember that little house we had a few years ago..... we should go back there.....#(local 900 year old man confused 'a few years' for like 150 and didn't realise until they got there)#(and promptly went hm. i think it may need some work)#(nile. who had been expecting an Actual Functional House. just has to sit there for a moment)#they're having fun though. she and joe are gonna have fun painting on the walls. etc#nicky doesn't trust them with pizza because nile (not picky) and joe (LOVES to annoy nicky) will deliberately order the worst looking optio#like. dominoes had a cheeseburger pizza. that's what they're going for#nicky let this happen two (2) times before just going for pizza himself#when andy's there it's even worse she will get margherita but she'll also 'add her own toppings'#like my parents who put chinese takeout on pizza. it's good i'm sorry i know i'm expecting to be banned from italy soon#ANYWAY#thank you for the prompt!! i had fun <3
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the result of my smutwriting for @zeroducks-2 💕
Jaytim drunk sex
Jason took in the sight in front of him, desperate to carve it into his mind so he'll remember it even after waking up tomorrow. He admired Tim's face flushed from the alcohol, his lips swollen and wet from kissing, those beautiful eyes glazed over from the pleasure and looking back at him with adoration. Then he slowly lowered his gaze, staring at Tim's neck full of marks he sucked onto the skin there, at the perk nipples he wanted to play with again, at the hard muscles of his stomach that were tense with effort it took for him to move up and down Jason's cock.
”You're so beautiful” he panted out and groaned when Tim tightened around him in answer. ”Fuck, Timmy-”
”Feel good?” Tim asked breathlessly, pleasure dripping off his voice like a honey. His lips curled into a little playful smirk as he moved his hips in a sinful way that made Jason moan loudly. If he was less drunk, he'd probably worry about someone hearing them, but right now he didn't give a single fuck.
Nothing else mattered, just Tim and the way he jumped on his dick like a porn star.
”Yes yes- you're doing such a great job, baby.”
Jason couldn't reach far with the way Tim had his arms trapped against the mattress - half to support his weight and half just to show Jason who really was in control right now - but it was still enough for him to reach towards the strong tights that squeezed his waist. They were adorned with teeth marks and hickeys he left there just a few moments ago, and Jason couldn't stop himself from tracing them over with his fingers, stroking and digging his nails into the skin to leave yet another reminder of this night, of himself.
He wanted to remember all of this, he wanted Tim to remember and he intended to leave as many marks as it was possible to ensure that their bodies won't be able to forget, even if they did after sobering up.
”Call me that again, Jason.” Tim demanded, leaning down enough for their lips to brush.
Now it was Jason's turn to smirk. ”Oh, did you like that, baby? Like being called pretty names?”
Tim whined against his lips, before finally pressing them together in a proper kiss. Jason didn't hesitate to slip his tongue inside, eager to taste him again, to feel the bitter hint of beer that started it all.
”Again.”
”Baby.” Jason breathed out without stopping the kiss. ”So beautiful, Timmy.”
Done with just laying down, he grabbed more firmly at Tim's tights and thrusted up, making Tim moan so loudly it sounded almost like a scream. Tim's nails dug into Jason's skin hard enough to draw blood but neither of them paid it any attention. If anything, Jason was just happy with yet another reminder of Tim on his body.
”Jason- fuck, Jay-”
”Such a good boy, taking all of me like that” Jason praised. He met every roll of Tim’s hips with his owns and made him moan in that breathy way that drove Jason absolutely fucking crazy. ”I can't believe we never done this before, fuck, I'm never letting you go, baby.”
Maybe when they'll wake up in the morning they'll regret it. Maybe they'll consider this whole night a mistake, the biggest one they've ever made. Maybe they'll be so ashamed of what happened that they won't be able to look each other in the eye. Maybe.
Right now, nothing else mattered more.
#I suck at smut (ha!) so i hope it's not too bad#i need to write smut more maybe then it'll get better#it's also my first time writing jaytim so yay!#my smutwriting#jaytim#thank you for the prompt Zero -3-#i had lots of fun while writing this#im going to post all the other prompts as well they're just#half-done#let me know that you think?#Ana's spicy writing
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Usopp asks sanji to write out the recipe of a favorite dish of his and let him borrow the kitchen to make it but sanji keeps Observing and Hovering
set vaguely after arlong park I guess??
—
Despite what anyone on the crew might think, Sanji isn’t actually against having other people in the kitchen. Working in a restaurant means working with a bunch of assholes who know how to sauté shit without setting themselves on fire. But while the bastards on the Baratie could barely be considered chefs, they were still—technically speaking—chefs.
He doesn’t miss the cacophony of steel and iron, of stupid banter, of order after order after order. He doesn’t miss elbowing past Patty on the way to the fridge, or heckling some dipshit’s new recipe until it’s actually worth serving, or cleaning with the geezer at the end of the day.
What he does miss is working with someone who knows how to hold a knife.
“That’s not how you fillet a fish,” Sanji says. Once he’s sure Usopp’s not in danger of accidentally cutting himself, Sanji reaches over to reposition Usopp’s hand, finger off the spine of the blade.
Usopp makes a face, probably torn between deferring to Sanji or spinning some story to brush him off. They’re still feeling each other out—it’s been a weird leap from ‘reluctant waiter and picky customer’ to ‘crewmates bound by the whims of their idiot captain.’ In the end, Usopp nods, carefully cutting into the pike while holding the knife in his new and improved posture (smart choice, less chance of losing his grip and a finger).
“You’re not cutting close enough to the—“
“Do you not want me here?” Usopp blurts out. “In the kitchen, I mean,” he clarifies, and for a second it looks like he’s going to continue, but he. Doesn’t. No backpedaling, no deflection, no convoluted over-explanation, which—isn’t Usopp supposed to lie? That’s his whole thing. Sanji knows that much, at least (but not much else).
“I’m trying to be nice,” Sanji says, eventually. To his own surprise, he means it. “If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve kicked you out.”
“…Oh.”
Usopp continues filleting the pike, and Sanji doesn’t point out the bones that are stuck in the pieces.
Alright, so, the thing is. Spending nine whole years surrounded by thugs will apparently have an impact on someone’s social skills. Which doesn’t matter with Luffy—he doesn’t really care about what Sanji says (unless it’s about food). It doesn’t matter with Zoro—Sanji doesn’t give a shit about that mosshead. And with Nami-chan, Sanji doesn’t have to think—a single glimpse of her radiant beauty is so soul-stirring that Sanji’s simply helpless against the flood of praise that springs forth ❤️
So how the hell is he supposed to talk to someone like Usopp?
Thankfully, it’s not a question Sanji has to consider for too long—Usopp clears his throat, taking the lead.
“I actually did this a lot before joining the crew,” he says, which—knife technique aside—sounds plausible.
“Yeah?”
“I must’ve grilled a thousand—no, ten thousand fish,” he continues, which sounds like bullshit. “By the time I was eight, the whole island was lining up for a taste of the great Captain Usopp’s legendary fire-grilled fish! Using spices foraged from the forest and fish caught by spear, not even the most refined palate could resist the food I poured my heart and soul into! But you see—” and here, he smiles, bright but somehow bittersweet, “I’d only cook it for my loyal crew and the princess we’d all sworn to protect.
“Now, as astounding as my own recipe was, I’m man enough to admit when I’m beat. And yours beats mine, no contest. So someday, I’d… like to cook it. For my old crew.”
It’s impressive, the way Usopp manages to be blindingly honest while lying his ass off. Sanji’s not quite sure what to make of it. If anyone else was feeding him this crap, he would’ve told them to eat shit, but…
…
“Hey,” Sanji says. “Tell me about your old crew.”
And, with a wide grin, Usopp does.
(The fish comes out fine. A little over-seasoned, but edible. They’ll work on it.)
#sanuso#sanji#usopp#my writing#one piece#ask#anonymous#I had a line like ‘Fire-grilled? How else would fish be grilled?’#but realized. I’m not confident enough to stake my life on that line as something a chef would say.#technically there’s charcoal grilling right…? hm…#anyway I wrote this in 3 hours with slapdash research into How To Perfectly Fillet A Pike#and am posting without a beta read by one piece scholars. also I never wrote these characters. also I haven’t reread one piece in years.#thanks anon that was fun#also thanks ketolic for the other prompt I’m gonna start it when it’s not 3am lol#oplb#orlbs
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Happy Valentine's Day @artsy-azure ! Here's your gift for the @milgram-valentines-exchange 💖
Fuuta x Minato (oc) ~ The first section takes place right after his T2 interrogation, and then skips ahead to a tiny post-milgram scene :3 I hope you enjoy!
Fuuta thought he would drown. Not sink into water or anything like that; he was worried the voices filling his mind would completely suffocate him. There were too many of them. Too many people, all of them knowing every dark corner of his mind, and shouting into it. It should have been impossible for one voice – one softer than all the rest – to reach him.
Then again, everything about that voice should have been impossible.
“Fuuta… Hey, Fuuta… Are you alright?”
He blinked. He scrambled over to the nearest wall. There were no visible openings in the cell, not a single imperfection across any of the surfaces, yet Milgram’s intercom system functioned just fine. Most days it would just deliver the ear-rattling bell to tell him the time. On bad days, it carried Es’ summons to the interrogation room for his extraction. On worse days, it carried Es’ summons to the courtroom for his verdict.
On the very best days, it would bring him the voice of Hoshizawa Minato.
(Though, seeing as he had just returned from a catastrophic extraction, he wasn’t sure what type of day it was yet.)
He tore his attention away from the chorus of judgements and insults. He pressed his shoulder against the wall, still unsure where the sound was coming from, but knowing it was nearby.
“I’m here,” he said, hushed. More than anything he wanted to yell and scream, but he would never risk it, now. Minato had gone through a hell of a lot to break into Milgram’s systems, and he wouldn’t let his big mouth ruin all that. It had already ruined just about everything else.
“How are you holding up?”
Fuuta pressed his lips together. “Any news on getting us out of here?” was all he said.
Hundreds of miles away (or perhaps next door – neither of them could really know), Minato’s fingers adjusted his headset.
“I’m still working on it. These things take time.”
“I’m definitely gonna need it after today.”
“Your interrogation… I know.”
Fuuta pulled his hood down tighter, tufts of ginger hair ruffling underneath. “How much did you see?”
Minato’s eyes flicked over to another monitor. It displayed the files he’d gained access to a few hours prior. It would crush Fuuta to hear about yet another person peeking into his personal moments, so he opted for a non-answer.
“I don’t have cameras. I don’t see much at all.”
“Tch, I’m not a damn idiot, I know that! I meant, how much did you hear?”
“...Everything.”
Fuuta squeezed his eye shut. He bit a curse back. There came silence.
Minato actually double checked some of his monitors, making sure they hadn’t been disconnected.
“So then, you know,” Fuuta said at last. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting forgiven this time around.”
“You can’t be so sure. The–”
“No one in their right mind would forgive me after that.” He winced, remembering his harsh cries at the end of the interrogation. What kind of accused murderer shouted “I’ll kill you” as their plea of innocence? When he wasn’t running his mouth with threats, he’d been pleading with Es like some kind of coward. And Minato has heard all of it. Fuuta could only imagine the horrors that the extraction held. Who could forgive him after they saw his anger, or worse, his pleasure? Who could ever look kindly on someone like that?
“I would.”
Fuuta’s eyes widened. He let himself sink further into the wall. A strangled laugh escaped him. He let his head hang down. No matter how much he wanted to protest, Minato was as honest as they come. If he said he forgave Fuuta, he meant it.
“Yeah, like I said, no one in their right mind.”
Minato cracked a smile.
“You don’t think I’m in my right mind?”
Fuuta scoffed. “You post pictures of clothes for a living. And in your free time, you plan impossible jailbreaks for murderers. Doesn’t sound quite sane to me.”
“Aw, come on. Do you think it’s impossible?”
Minato was still smirking, ready for some more of their typical back and forth. Fuuta surprised him by pausing.
“Well, it should be impossible. But…”
They’d been speaking for some time now. Whether it was quick comments when Es wasn’t around or long conversations into the night. Fuuta had seen many sides of him, and knew that he had what it took. He wasn’t like the vast majority of internet personalities – weak or needy or inexperienced. He’d proved himself time and time again. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Minato.
“If it’s you… there’s a chance.”
“You’ve got that right. You can count on me, alright?”
Fuuta took a deep breath. The tightness of the uniform and the bandages seemed to lessen.
“Although,” Minato put on a falsely serious voice, “we’re gonna have a long talk when you get out… about that yellow jacket you own.”
“Haaah? What’s wrong with my jacket?’
“There are a hundred stylish ways to wear it and that was not one.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“You’ll be grateful when someone who ‘posts pictures of clothes for a living’ helps with your wardrobe.”
Fuuta could feel his chest release even more. Minato spoke so easily about the future, as if it were something real and waiting for him.
“As if I’d let you touch any of my outfits.”
“As if you could stop me!”
He took another breath. He smiled. No drowning today.
---
After checking the clock fourteen times, Fuuta thought once more couldn’t hurt. It was still two minutes to noon, just like the last few times he’d checked. His frequent checking hadn’t brought the train to the station any faster.
Minato had told him that he was safe. He’d said this meeting wasn’t that big of a risk. The dust had settled. He just had to relax.
The announcement overhead signaled the next stop was his. It screeched into the station, a slight murmur rising as the doors opened onto a platform of moving people.
Fuuta lowered his head. His eyepatch would surely draw attention to himself, so he kept his hood down and his mask up. He just needed to make it to the station entrance.
He made his way around stiff businessmen and sticky children. He tried to shuffle around a young man, but he seemed to step further into Fuuta’s path. Giving the stranger a quick glance, he started to mumble something to squeeze past.
“Fuuta,” the man said, gaping in surprise. “It’s me.”
He inhaled sharply.
It was only three words, but it was enough to recognize his voice from a thousand conversations.
Fuuta’s eye widened as he took Minato in. It was strange to finally see his face. Finally, here was the person he’d spent hours talking to. The person he’d spent days passing the time with. The person he’d spent nights falling for. Here was the one who had saved his life, in more ways than he could count.
His first observation was, fuck, this guy is way outta my league. His next was, he’s shorter than I was expecting. Then, gah, I’m probably shorter than he was expecting. He was in the middle of realizing, he has the nicest smile I think I’ve ever seen, when Minato crushed him in a hug.
Fuuta returned the embrace. His arms tightened around Minato. He was real. He was here. Fuuta’s hands grasped at his clothes and his hair. He was unable to control a laugh bubbling up inside of him.
“You did it. My god, you did it.”
He breathed into Minato’s shoulder. His chest shook with some laughter, some tears.
For a moment wondered if people would notice the heartfelt reunion outside of the train, then he realized he didn’t care in the slightest.
Minato was laughing along with him in that beautiful, familiar voice of his. No more crackling speakers or hidden intercoms – he spoke right into his ear, hair tickling his cheek. Fuuta could have stayed forever in his arms, just like that. All that mattered was he felt safe. At last, he felt happy.
Talk about impossible.
#milgram#fuuta kajiyama#ahhh this was so much fun!!!#i dont usually do oc stuff but i really hope i did minato justice ;-; hes really cool!!#thank you for your answer to my questions btw -- i really appreciated the detail! it was super helpful 👍#sorry its not like fluffy valentines-y? but i still hope its sweet... the ending made me so happy to write :3#i loved the whole concept!#as someone with a non-prisoner non-warden milgram oc i was so interested in his role in the story 👀 i think thats so clever and cool!#i wanted to try my hand at this prompt but i really loved the other one too omg 🏳️⚧️🥺#and thank you sm for putting on this event!! ive seen so many people getting really excited about their gifts#so many of my milgram pals had an awesome time working on theirs - we appreciate you running it :)#drabbles
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I think i forgot to send you some the other day and i definitely meant to so. Hi<3
15 + skk or kunizai (or kunichuuzai) up to you!
23 + chuuran
hello! i come bearing gifts!! chuuran first and the other one is under the cut bc it is. slightly more m-rated lol
chuuran + a kiss influenced by alcohol
This is a bad idea.
Chuuya knows this is a bad idea. But their common sense is clouded by alcohol and Ranpo was staring them down with those stupid green eyes, like he was trying to undress them from across the room, and fuck.
Chuuya groans as he bites down on their lip. They have him pinned against the wall, but that hasn’t stopped Ranpo from acting like he still has the upper hand. Like this is exactly what he wanted.
Chuuya knows they’ve played directly into his trap, but it feels too good to stop now.
“You are so goddamn annoying,” they grumble between kisses, voice nothing more than a harsh whisper against Ranpo’s smiling lips. “I hate you.”
“Mhm,” Ranpo hums. “That must be why you want me so bad right now.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Make me.”
And oh, that is a challenge Chuuya most certainly will not back down from.
-
skk + a kiss along the hips
“Chuuya…” Dazai murmurs, tightening their grip on his hair. They don’t pull him back, though, so Chuuya continues carefully unwinding the bandages wrapped around their thigh.
“Is there something you want?”
Dazai whines.
“Sorry,” Chuuya smiles, “I can’t understand you if you won’t use your words.”
“Chuuya!”
Chuuya laughs. Having finished with the bandages, he tosses them aside. Then, he presses his lips to Dazai’s hip bone. Too soft to fully satiate them but enough to soothe them for the moment. “Be patient,” he instructs. “It’s not my fault you feel the need to mummify yourself.”
“Chuuya’s being so mean!”
Chuuya kisses them again through a teasing grin. “I think you like it, though.”
Dazai doesn’t argue. When Chuuya glances up, he finds their face is flushed all the way to the tips of their ears.
They’ve only just started, but he’s having so much fun already.
#thank youuuu for the prompts i had fun with them <3#chuuya needs to. like. no im not gonna finish this sentence i just hope theyre having fun#chuuran#skk#soukoku#bsd#grace's writing tag#ness tag#ask game
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prompt for childhood enemies dimileth!!!
When Byleth was 6 years old, and Jeralt left her in the care of an inkeeper while he was doing merc jobs, a traveling caravan of rich people arrived to the inn, and she heard an ugly rich bowlcut blonde baby say his dad was the strongest and could beat anybody's dad and she choose violence.
Someone had to put the bowlcut in his place and make him understand Jeralt was the strongest.
Dimitri didn't want to fight back for his crest until Byleth called him a wussy... which is a word the mercs used around her and she didn't know what it meant.
(she fondly recalls this story as the first time she won a fight)
(dimitri still has bite scars from the incident and was very scared of girls for a long time)
(gustave was worried sick a commoner kid got the crown prince rabbies)
(they haven't connected the dots)
(This is the same anon who hates Dimitri's hair)
(hello dear dimitri's hair hater anon, i loved this prompt a lot! i changed some little points in the narration, but the main plotis the one you wrote. i really hope you'll like this :3)
wordcount: 1.2k
Byleth was extremely bored. Jeralt— no, he said to call him dad— Dad went to do some cool mercenary stuff he said were 'too dangerous' for Byleth to attend. How silly! She was perfectly capable of taking care of enemies. She had the best teacher in the world, after all; the Blade Breaker’s abilities were well known along all Fodlan.
Of course, she was still only six, while her father was… How many years old was Jeralt again? She realised she didn’t know exactly. Probably the same age all dads were. Like three-hundred years old or something like that.
Byleth frowned. Did she need to wait three-hundred years to become as powerful as Jeralt? No, it was too far away from now! The little girl stood up. She needed to go training now.
She went out the little inn where Jeralt— Dad left her some days ago, heading for that nice spot she found out the day before to train with her new super powerful sword. (Well, wood sword. After the last time Byleth tried to train by herself, she almost chopped her own leg, so Jeralt took precautions by giving her a weapon that 'woudn’t hurt his precious little girl'. How melodramatic! But he chose it precisely for her. It was special. She wasn’t gonna break it!)
Her wandering gaze stopped when she noticed some people a few meters from her. She frowned. A tall guy with dark hair and a younger blonde boy with an ugly bowlcut were talking under a tree, the very tree of her perfect nice training spot.
She frowned again. As people said, Byleth wasn’t… the best at social interactions. She didn’t like talking to people, especially strangers. And she hated when she had to. Like this moment. She needed those two to get out of her new special training spot. She needed to train! To become more powerful! Like, right now!
The urge to train was bigger than her despise for talking to strangers, so she got closer to the tree, holding hard her sword. Byleth repeated in her mind Jeralt— Dad’s lessons about how ‘not to be too scary with other people’. She had to act nice.
“Hi. Get out of my training spot”.
A greeting! Super nice. ‘Good job, me’, she thought, pleased with herself.
The taller boy looked at her with surprise, but his expression quickly changed in a smile. “Hello, you fellow warrior”, he said in a condescending tone, winking.
Ugh. That was one of the thing Byleth hated the most: grown-ups treating her like she was just a little child!
“Get out, I said! I need to train”, she said, pointing at her sword.
Bowlcut boy frowned. “But you’re too young to train by your own!”
“What?!” Byleth exclaimed to him, annoyed.
“Yes! My dad says children shouldn’t fight until they grow up. And you look almost my age! So, you can’t train”, Bowlcut boy explained, nodding.
Byleth crossed her arms. “It doesn’t make sense! My dad helps me train since I was… younger than you!”
Bowlcut boy looked troubled. “Why does you dad train you?”
“Because I want to become strong, and he’s the strongest mercenary of all Fodlan!”, Byleth said with a hint of pride.
Now Bowlcut boy looked annoyed. “That’s not true! My dad is the strongest one! Glenn, tell her!” he added, looking at the taller annoying guy.
Tall-annoying guy was watching at them holding a hand over his mouth as if he wanted to hide it, slightly shaking. Then he proceeded to burst into laughter, hitting the ground with his fist, without saying a thing.
Byleth frowned. What a weird guy.
Bowlcut boy frowned too, but apparently he decided to let the matter drop, as he looked at Byleth again. “My dad is stronger! He has big muscles, and he’s the only one that can use a super uper big powerful spear!” Then he looked down at Tall-annoying guy, who was still on the floor. “Glenn! Tell her!”
The guy tried to stop laughing, but miserably failed. “So… sorry, Dimitri… you’ll have to… deal with her yourself… PUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Byleth crossed her arms; then, she got an idea. “Let’s settle this with a fight. However wins, has the strongest dad!”
Bowlcut boy’s eyes widened. “N… no! I can’t! I’ll hurt you!”
Byleth was really annoyed now: how dared that little brat imply he could beat her?!
She lifted her sword, pointing at Bowlcut boy. “Prepare yourself!”
“Oh, fuck!” Tall-annoying guy stopped laughing and stood up between them. “Ok, party’s over. Let’s try to get along, shall we?”
Bowlcut boy sighed in relief. Byleth sticked her tongue out, looking at him. “Your dad’s just a… wussy!”
Byleth really liked the word ‘wussy’. The way it sounded was funny. She didn’t exactly know the meaning, but Jeralt’s mercenaries often used it when someone was arguing (usually when drinking that weird ‘grown-ups fruit juice’) with some other of the band, getting the latter very angry. And Byleth wanted to make Bowlcut boy angry.
And she succeded! Bowlcut boy’s eyes widened, and he proceeded to run towards her. Byleth was ready, and promptly dodged the boy. She grabbed his arm, and sinked her teeth in it.
The boy screamed in pain until Tall-annoying boy managed to pull him away. “Shit shit shit! What the hell is wrong with you two?!” he said in a high-pitched tone. Bowlcut boy started crying.
‘Pathetic’, Byleth thought.
“Okay, little girl, we’re leaving, but promise me you’ll stay away from Dimitri!” Tall-annoying guy said, while taking Bowlcut boy in his arms. “We’re leaving soon anyway, so forget about this and do not tell anyone!” he added, going inside the inn, without waiting for Byleth to respond. “Shit! I did tell Gustave I’m not a good babysitter…” she heard him muttering, while Bowlcut boy was still crying.
She looked at the now closed door for a few seconds more, then turned around. “Okay. Melee training for day: done. I should practice with my sword now…”
“You did what?!” Jeralt—Dad screamed in shock.
Byleth crossed her arms. “I bit him, I told you! He was saying some crap about you!”
Dad looked at her in disbelief, and then bursted into laughter.
‘Why is everyone laughing at me today?!’
“You… you bit him… you bit the… freaking… AHAHAHAHAHA!” Dad was laughing so hard he didn’t finish the phrase.
Byleth shrugged, deciding to let him be. ‘It’s not like I’m gonna ever see Bowlcut boy again…’
15 years later
Byleth didn’t know if she was getting better at reading people, or if Jeralt was acting strange more than usual. Since she told him she chose to lead the Blue Lion House, her father started to make a soft giggle everytime she mentioned the house-leader, Dimitri. It was getting annoying.
“Are you going to tell me why do you make that sound everytime I mention Dimitri, dad?!” she finally said one afternoon, while her and Jeralt were having tea in her room.
Jeralt smiled. “Ah! Never. But maybe, you’ll have your answer if you’ll ever see his arm… Summer is starting, after all…”
#didnt put gustave bc In This House We Hate Gustave/Gilbert#glenn is like 12 here i think? but already a Faerghus KnightTM#so when he saw this little weird girl threatening him and The Prince Of Faerghus With The Crest Of Blayddid he starts laughing#but not in a mean way#hes like 'omg shes soooo cute lmao'#also jeralt loses his shit bc his daughter freaking bit the freaking prince of faerghus after calling the freaking king a PUSSY. (*wussy.)#they need to leave like NOW but he has a bit of time to laugh#i had so much fun thank you anon <3<3<3<3#anon ask#anon prompt#dimileth#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#byleth eisner#jeralt eisner#fe3h#fanfic by op#can i put these fics from anon ask on ao3 too? lmao#yuzu writes#yuzu speaks
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for todays wip wednesday i thought it would be kind of fun to do a little wips vs final drafts post just to kind of illustrate how far back first drafts can really start. so following the famous 5+1 fanfic format (4+1 cause u can only post 10 pics on mobile)—four wips (left) & their related final drafts (right) + one that is still a wip (bottom two)
#in the doodle those are supposed to be their eyebrows fyi#this post is just cause we writers like to suck our own dicks sometimes#an anon sent in a follow up ask after my writing advice post talking about little notebooks…#i have gone through three 200 pg notebooks during the drafting of some of this content lol#one 200 pg notebook was basically ONLY slider one shot content#1. the little doodle that led to the cyclone one shot#2. ayrmy…. this doesn’t even count as a 0.5 draft#3. this is not the first attempt at this scene. this big blowup scene went through like a dozen different drafts#& it’s still kind of whatever imo#5. here are my original notes/outline for wwgattai :) it’s all i had to go on for the entire story#the first concrete image for the entire story i had was of mav begging ice to quit smoking#and ice quitting only cause he asked out loud#6. this is the WIP. female mav for a prompt fill. will then lead to of course! lesbian charliemav.#thanks for tolerating all my wip wednesdays :) they’re just kind of fun for me even if nothing makes sense out of context#top gun#top gun maverick#tom iceman kazansky#pete maverick mitchell#icemav#top gun fanfiction#edts notes#btw in the cyclone excerpt epaulettes should be shoulderboards whoops#ignore the weird tag numbers there were originally 6
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For the prompt game: salamander
“What is that?” Sky asked.
Wild held out the small creature cradled in his hands. “It’s a salamander!”
“But what is it?” Sky asked again. His hand was hovering near the creature as it squirmed in Wild’s hold.
“It’s kind of like a small, slimy lizard? They live mostly in water,” Wild explained. Sky nodded and continued to watch the creature with wide eyes.
Showing Sky new plants or animals from his Hyrule was on of Wild’s favorite things. Sky was always so entranced and he never lost an ounce of enthusiasm.
“Here, hold out your hands,” Wild said. Sky quickly complied, putting his hands flat with his pinkies touching.
“Are you sure I won’t hurt it?” Sky asked.
“You won’t hurt it. It’ll get away before you do. Cup your hands a little more- there, perfect. Ready?” Wild asked.
“Yes!” Sky answered without a second of hesitation.
Wild gently tilted his hands into Sky’s and the salamander scuttled into Sky’s hands. Sky gasped and smiled widely as he cupped his hands further around the salamander.
“You’re right, it’s so slimy!” Sky said with a laugh. Wild giggled along with him.
The salamander tried to crawl onto Sky’s arm and Sky jerked his hands to try to keep hold of it. The salamander got spooked and squirmed madly, and Sky lost his grip. The creature landed on the ground and very quickly ran back under the rocks in the stream.
“Oops,” Sky said. He was still smiling widely.
#ace writes#three sentence prompt#linked universe#lu wild#lu sky#thank you for all the prompts zee <3#I had very much fun with them#ok now I actually have two left#I got more since the last time I said that lol
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The fact that I never wrote the tiefling party for Shadowheart and Asheera is fucking criminal. So here it is. It's expanded from the game, because of course it is, and I had a lot of fun just writing these two talking as I always do.
Gotta use any excuse to make my sweet gay ladies kiss, right?
Rating: T for Touches and Tenderness
Category: F/F
Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav
Tags and AO3 Summary under the break.
Tags: First Dates, First Kiss, Romance, Light Angst, Emerald Grove Tiefling Party (Baldur's Gate), Falling In Love, Banter, Trans Female Character, Half-Orc Tav, is the trans character, Gender Identity, very lightly on that topic, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Protectiveness, a paladin uses Lay on Hands to try to fight Shar's vindictiveness, Let's see how that plays out
AO3 Summary:
The survivors of the raid on the grove want to celebrate all they've managed to save.
During the bittersweet evening, Asheera finds Shadowheart sitting by herself on the cliffside. There they share wine, bad jokes, and more.
#bg3#bg3 fanfiction#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#shadowheart#shadowheart x tav#asheera x shadowheart#oc: asheera#my fics#also I realized that while I had a lot of allusion and build spread across my fics... you don't really get to see Asheera's POV early on#at least for why she comes to love Shadowheart#because in those early fics I wanted to write solely from Shadowheart's POV so that readers could feel connected to a canon character#while they learned about my OC#ok anyways thanks have fun this was good times for me and my brain#hopefully I'll get to prompt fics... tomorrow? today? IDK probably tomorrow
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@cat-tyy I have. no idea what I just wrote. Enjoy.
“AAAAH!”
“Zion. Zion! Let’s calm do—oof.”
“Zion-ssi, I think—‘ack!’—it would be best if you—‘Did you just bite me?!’—both just stayed still—‘Get away from me!’ ‘I can’t!’—for a moment,” Eugis finishes weakly.
She glances to their right where Serpens is fretting over them (one more than the other, actually, but that’s not the point), looking very much like a weeping angel.
“Do you want me to calm your mind, Zion?” he offers tearfully, his palm alight with divine power.
“No. Just get him away from me!”
“I told you, he can’t,” Humanus interjects, fending off Zion’s pinwheeling arms. “He’d have to slice us up first.”
Zion pauses in his assault against the crown prince and takes a moment to absorb his words. He then turns to Serpens with conviction.
“Will you be able to do that painlessly if you used a divine blade?”
Serpens begins to sob.
Eugis watches Zion hug him as best as he can and silently brings her hands together, asking the goddess Luxmea if she could perhaps break the spell presently so they could all be rescued from their current predicament.
You see, at the moment, Zion and Humanus are—quite literally—attached at the hip.
It all began with Humanus bragging about his tree house.
“It was our favorite hangout back when we were little,” he said around a mouthful of cookies.
“Really,” Zion said doubtfully.
“Yeah. We used to play there all the time.” They both turned towards Serpens.
Serpens took a sip of his tea and placed it back on the table without a sound. “We did.”
“Can we go see it?” Zion and Eugis asked in tandem, the former asking Serpens and the latter asking the actual owner.
Humanus clapped his hands excitedly. “Sure! Let’s go right now.”
“Ahem,” Winston cleared his throat. “Sunbae, I believe you said you were ‘swamped with work’ today.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Zion said with a flippant wave of his hand, already pushing Serpens towards the door. “I’ll just do it later.”
Winston mutely held his gaze, and Eugis once again found herself marveling at how Zion could brush off the pressure coming from the 7 foot-tall knight without breaking a sweat.
“Let’s go!” he cheered, and on they went.
They arrived at the base of a magnificent tree behind the crown prince’s palace. The sight of it sent a pang to Eugis’s heart, the towering trees of her own kingdom brought to the forefront of her mind. Dozens of feet above the ground, a tree house sat snugly between thick branches, looking well-maintained and not at all like it had been abandoned for a decade.
“Is this sturdy enough for Winston and me?” Zion asked, inspecting the rope ladder that hung before them.
“Pretty sure it can handle Winston’s weight,” Humanus said with a quizzical tilt of his brow. “But why do you say it like that?”
“What, you expect me to climb this myself?”
“Uh, yeah? Serpens and I did it all the time when we were kids.”
Zion stared at him incredulously, then began pointing at all of them starting with Humanus. “Divine power.” At Serpens. “Divine power.”
“Elf!” Eugis said helpfully once it was her turn, earning an appreciative nod from her friend.
“Muscle,” he continued, pointing at Winston’s scowling face. Then at himself. “Puny human.”
“It’s just a ladder,” Humanus said, unmoved.
Zion took a deep breath, and Eugis hurriedly grabbed him in a bridal carry before he could start insulting his future king. “We’re off first~”
And with the help of her wind spirit, the two of them shot up in the air towards the open doorway of the tree house, Zion screaming all the while and clutching at her neck hard enough to tickle (he was puny like that).
By the time the rest of them had reached the tree house, Zion had regained his wits and was back to being his jovial, energetic self.
“Look at all this stuff!”
“I know, right?” Humanus said, dragging Zion towards a rocking horse bedecked with jewels. “Here, this was one of my favorites.” As was typical, he failed to notice the mildly disgusted look Zion threw his way when he caught sight of the colorful gems and missed his muttered “Rich people”.
Serpens, not wanting to be outdone, quickly searched for other toys to present to him. Winston opted to pretend to stand guard near the entrance, resignedly looking on as his illustrious master tried to get Zion off the rocking horse by tempting him with a miniature holy sword.
Eugis took it all in with a contented smile. With a happy sigh, she calmly walked around the spacious room, studying each item and wondering which of them Serpens could have genuinely enjoyed. She gravitated towards a shelf full of books, running her fingers against their spines and picturing a young Serpens reading them (prolific her imagination though may be, she couldn’t quite bring herself to imagine Humanus ever cracking open a book outside of his princely classes). Picking a book at random—a tome bound by warm brown leather, the color of Zion’s eyes—she perched on the windowsill and began to read.
It was several minutes later when the outside world filtered into her senses.
“Serpens, what’s this for?” Zion asked, holding a nondescript key in his palm.
“Um... I’m afraid I don’t know.”
He turned to Humanus next. “Your Highness?”
“Hmm?”
Zion held the key towards him and repeated the question.
“Huh...” Humanus said, pondering for a moment, taking it from Zion’s hand and turning it this way and that, before giving it back with a shrug. “Dunno.”
“But this is yours, isn’t it? It was in your toy chest.”
“Must be, yeah.”
Zion clicked his tongue.
“Did you just—”
“Never mind, Your Highness. I’ll figure it out myself.”
Contrary to his words, Zion immediately asked for Serpens’s help, and together they began to look about the room searching for its lock. Eugis joined them soon after—
“Perhaps it’s for a secret door that leads to the heart of the castle, but His Majesty the king had thought you unprepared for such knowledge so he asked a mighty wizard to wipe it from your memory!”
—and Winston saw it his duty to help his master as well. They scoured every inch of the tree house, leaving no furniture or stuffed animal unturned.
Finally, after nearly a quarter of an hour, Humanus let out a triumphant shout, holding something up as he sat on the floor.
“Found it!”
“Don’t be so proud, Your Highness, you were supposed to know to begin with.”
Humanus threw Zion a hurt look. “At least congratulate me...”
“Yes, yes,” Zion said obediently, already sidling up to him to see it for himself. “Congratulations, Your Highness. You’re very smart. Good job remembering what you forgot.”
“...”
Eugis approached them and stood over them to find the keyhole... in the middle of a toy knight’s chest.
“What the heck is that?” Zion asked as he knelt next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder for balance and looking at the strange doll askance.
“It’s a doll I commissioned,” Humanus explained unhelpfully—Zion’s distrustful gaze turned to him. “Why are you suddenly looking at me like that?”
“... Anyway, is it a wind-up toy or something?”
“A what?”
“Never mind. Just put the key in the keyhole already.”
Zion handed the key over to him, and the three of them—Serpens had joined Eugis to stand over the two, and Winston had gone back to his station next to the doorway—watched in rapt attention as Humanus slotted it into the keyhole and gave it a single twist. There was a soft click, and for a short, awkward moment nothing happened, and Eugis was left wondering if the crown prince of the kingdom had somehow commissioned a fraud.
But then a blinding light swallowed Humanus and Zion whole, and she could do nothing but cry in alarm as the two disappeared in a flash of green.
The brilliant light disappeared as quickly as it came, and an unbelievable sight revealed itself before her.
Eugis stared in abject horror.
Serpens started mewling.
Humanus screamed so loudly Euges’s ears folded against her head of their own accord.
And Zion stared down at his—and now Humanus’s—body and was only able to let out a soft “what the fu-” before he promptly fainted.
Eugis must’ve dissociated for a bit, because she can’t recall what happened while he was passed out. But now Zion’s awake, and Eugis is lucid again, and all she can do as they wait for the magic scroll to expire is to prevent her friend from committing regicide.
She gently encloses his wrists in her grasp to stop him from pulling at Humanus’s luscious goldfish locks again.
“It was supposed to be a prank, but Serpens never asked what the key was for and after awhile I just forgot!”
“You forgot you commissioned a doll to be booby trapped with a merging scroll?!” Zion all but shrieks, his voice reaching new decibels and causing Humanus to hold up a glowing hand against the ear closest to him. “Get on your knees!”
“What?” Humanus asks in bewilderment, then repeats it a second time with more fervor when Serpens—as if on instinct—folds his legs beneath him and raises both arms above his head, his angelic face full of contrition.
Eugis lets go of Zion with a sigh and watches him comfort the now crying Serpens. She’s quite certain elves don’t get migraines—she hasn’t had one herself despite having lived for hundreds of years—so the building ache behind her eyes must be a side effect from the scroll’s magic. Right?
#thanks for the prompt! <3 I wasn't expecting anyone to suggest the webnovel of my life ToT afraid I can't write tcf since it's been years :(#for anyone who might read this but haven't yet read duke please repent: trust me. this level of crack is equal/less than what's canon#and yes. zion rivelon is a rude potty-mouthed little troll of a guy and we love him for it#this is the first thing I've written in MONTHS and it's deranged and I had fun so yay!!!#duke please repent#the duke's redemption#bff writes
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Some Days You Just Can’t Get Rid of a Bomb (Fill 2)
A Court of Fey and Flowers (Gen)
The situation was such:
A new year, a new Bloom. The feeling was very different this time around, a more relaxed affair (as relaxed as a Bloom can possibly be), a more friendly, warm thing (but again perhaps that was simply the company that they kept these days.)
Wuvvy had done a magnificent job. And the Court of Craft joined the activities seamlessly, their event the second of the Bloom, following the previous evening’s garden promenade and tea, with a uniquely crafty event: a painting party! Colors flew through the air, dousing unsuspecting and delighted guests as they took up knitting and sculpting and sketching, whatever their hearts delighted in. Binx could not be prouder of its success, and could not have done it without their compatriots…
Who all for some reason could not be found.
No Andhera. No Hob. No Rue. No Lord Airavis, no Lady Chirp.
No, no, not quite. Just as she had begun to worry, Lady Chirp darted past, feathers ruffled, and her eyes wide.
“Chirp!” Binx rushed to her side, and Lady Chirp startled.
“Nothing, nothing is going wrong, Binx dear, why I think maybe you’re hiding something actually, no one has possibly gone missing Nope no siree, hahahaha,” her feathers fluffed out uncharacteristically, and just as she finished speaking, went down just as quickly, as her pupils dilated, and her whole countenance turned to that of one on a mission. “Must go, great party, have some punch!”
Before Binx could get a word in edgewise, Chirp had rushed off, whisper shouting at a distant giggling sound.
Not a minute later, Hob came dashing by, two large, giggling lumps in his coat—much too large for salt goblins.
“Hob,” Binx said delicately, but firmly, and his ears turned towards them before the rest of him did, followed by two pairs of eyes peeking out from his waistcoat.
“Lady Binx!” Hob’s face scrunched up momentarily as he presumably attempted to recollect all of his goblin trickery and cleverness. But his coat spoke first.
“I like her wings,” said a hushed, high voice, followed by a second, nasally shush.
In all honesty, Binx had to laugh. “Friends of yours?” She smiled, hoping to be let in on the joke.
He looked desperate to include them. But his ears picked up something in the distance, and he swiftly grabbed her shoulders and begged, “You saw nothing, Lady Binx. I shall endeavor to explain all, I simply have to make sense of the situation myself. Please, for the sake of honor and love, do not mention seeing me and the chaps here!”
With that, he sprinted off, his coat—the chaps presumably—laughing all the way.
“What is happening?” She sighed, turning only to bump into Rue, then Andhera, followed by a deliriously guilty looking Wuvvy, each of them carrying separate articles of small clothing items that seemed to have escaped their persons, and one individual small one delicately hanging from Andhera’s arms—but decidedly not the one missing their clothes. This one was what appeared to be a little huldra, their vines and thistles hanging playfully and desperately onto Andhera’s sleeves, giggling. There seemed to be an awful lot of that going around.
Binx blinked at the trio. The trio blinked back.
“Have you seen a bear cub?” Andhera, bless them, asked, only to be walloped by Wuvvy.
“A bear cub? At the painting party?”
“There’s actually quite a lot of cubs if you will,” Andhera did his adorable half smile that came when he was most nervous and out of his element. “Running about, this way and that. We haven’t lost them or anything, promise!”
It was Rue’s turn to bump them gently, smiling, much too stiffly, the Rue of yesteryear rather than their dear friend. “Forgive the confusion, my dear, we simply want tonight to go off without a hitch.”
“Which is why you are all running after bear cubs?” Binx raised on brow.
“All?” Rue, of course, had the perception to ask.
“Well, one bear cub, one human… half fae? Peep! And then there’s this charming little creature,” Andhera laughed as the little huldra scooted further up their arm, snuggling into the curve of their neck. Whatever was up, she could not help the warm smile that shone through her then.
“We would hate to keep you from your guests, Lady Binx,” Wuvvy, keenly, grabbed Andhera and began pushing him and the huldra child to the far corner of the room. “In fact, I believe that I have just spotted a dear acquaintance for whom I have longed to introduce our Prince here too, come let’s go!” She snapped, and Andhera simply frowned.
“I still don’t really know why we are keeping this a secret,” they mumbled and before Binx could inquire further, Rue pulled her aside.
“I simply wanted to let you know that we will absolutely not let anything distract from your triumph tonight, my dear,” Rue, always warm and kind and thoughtful, squeezed their arm with gentle claws and a proud gleam in their eye. Binx would have been thrilled, but…
“It’s not quite a triumph if you all aren’t enjoying yourselves! Is everything alright?”
Rue had become more open in the past year, sharing much and letting their feathers down, but practiced manners were hard to let go of. With a slight sigh, Binx could see they were ready to spin some excuse or another, when the both of them were wrapped into a conspiratorial huddle by one Lord Squak Airavis…
And the aforementioned half clothed bear cub, one little Lady Peep Featherfowl, and a dragon? Fairy? Fairy dragon?
“I believe at least some of these ruffians, hooligans, MALCONTENTS,” he said each word louder and with more feeling and swinging of the children with each bellow, and with each lunge the laughter grew—from Squak as well. He could barely contain it. “Are yours, Lady Rue. Well, at least two, yes?”
Binx gasped.
Rue hurried to huddle the bear cub and the fairy dragon from Squak, speaking low and hushed. “Where did you run off to?” Rue whispered…
But Lady Chirp Featherfowl bellowed it.
Peep, still giggling something fierce, was tossed from Uncle to Mother with pure glee. “I was making friends, Mom! With our secret cousins!”
“Secret cousins?” Binx said, and so did Hob and Andhera, who the Huldra child had decided to become the hat of.
“Secret cousins, what, there’s no, secret—! Secrets, pfft,” Andhera tried to wave it all away, but, suddenly, all of their makeshift family was looking at one another.
“I found them yesterday abandoned in the gardens and I couldn’t not take them in!” Hob shouted, as two giggling fey children—a wulpintinger and a hairy little hag girl, burst forth from his waist coat.
“This little one had wandered over into the mortal realm when I went to visit Chirp and Squak while you were doing warlock patron things, Binx, and they were all alone and scared and they love fabric and storms and—!” Andhera pouted with big puppy eyes that the huldra child matched.
“I just thought what a clever little chap, I figured Rue would be a wonderful person to take them under their wing!” Squak began—
“—And I just fell madly in love the moment I saw them,” Rue held the fairy dragon close, and the bear as well—and sure enough, Wuvvy covered that explanation at all.
“And I… well, this little guy was orphaned from the Court of Hoof and Claw and Rue had told me that they were sort of thinking and half a bugbear and an owl bear is just a bear!”
“What?” Hob’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying…?”
Rue laughed, “It seems like you adopted two yourself too!”
“Oh dear,” Andhera finally frowned. “And I adopted this little one too, all just yesterday. Are we all only finding this out from each other now? That’s probably not the smartest way to start the adoption process…”
“I would argue that it is much how any child comes into a family though,” Chirp said, half tired, but full of love and exasperated affection with her little Peep.
“Well you absolutely have to because they’re my cousins and I know how important cousins are!” Peep crossed her arms and put her nose in the air. “So there!”
That had to be it. The straw that broke the camel’s back—Binx bent over and laughed so loud and so long, the whole painting party halted, looking over to the Court of Craft with confusion and curiosity. Sure, propriety—but when had they ever really followed those silly old rules?
“Perfect! Just perfect!” They beckoned the children to their side, kneeling before them all as they shyly approached, eyes wide, and mouth pressed together hopefully. She smiled and held out her hands to each of them. “I’m Binx.”
“Sarastra,” the dragon fairy said, immediately taking and shaking their hand.
“Archimedes,” said the Bear, a little shy, shuffling their feet, but smiling bashfully all the same.
“Prosperpina!” The wulpintinger lept up, and struck a pose. Oh, but she had a lot of dear Uncle Squak in her, blood relative or not.
The little hag girl, covered in a veil of shaggy hair, parted it slightly to smile up at Binx. “I’m Circe.”
The Huldra, hesitant though she was, reached out a tentative branch, and then immediately launched herself into Binx’s arms. “My name is Myrddin!”
With a chuckle, Binx nodded, “Well, welcome to our family, Sarastra, Archimedes, Prosperpina, Circe, and Myrddin. You’re always welcome with the Court of Craft!”
#a court of fey and flowers#my writing#acofaf fan fiction#of course i drew the babies i will show you all later <3#chantillyxlacey#prompt fill#thank you thank you i had so much fun <3
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I'm not afraid of you - for the polyam. If you're taking requests?
I know these were supposed to be fluff prompts but apparently I cannot write anything soft without Jonah through pain first, so have some hurt/comfort!
'I'm not afraid of you'
Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles
Pairing: Adam du Mortain x m!detective (Jonah Rafferty) x Nate Sewell
Word count: ~1.6k
prompt list here
Something is wrong.
Jonah hasn’t said a word since he got back from his apartment, although the quiet is not something unusual for the three of them, the fact that Bo’s fur is bristling and that the dog hasn’t left their boyfriends side since they got back is a clear indicator that something happened while they were away.
“Jonah?” Nate’s voice breaks the heavy silence, worry seeping through the name, but Jonah doesn’t seem to hear it, or if he does, he ignores it. Instead he keeps on scribbling frantically in his notebook.
Adam cannot see what he’s writing from where he’s sitting but, the way his hand follows the same pattern of movements repeatedly, tells him that Jonah has been writing the same words over and over since he sat down.
“Jonah?” This time he’s the one trying to grab their boyfriend's attention but, just like the first time, calling his name doesn’t get him any reaction, or at least not the one he hoped for.
Jonah’s scribbling grows more frenetic. Desperate even. He starts underlining certain words, each line he draws sounding like a knife slicing the tense silence. His breathing becomes erratic. He circles one word. Again and again. The motion like a rope that coils around one’s neck. Suffocating. Until finally, the paper tears and Jonah’s pencil’s snaps in his hand. Sobs follow, ripping away their heart as the sound echoes through the room.
Adam is kneeling before him in a flash, Nate stands next to him in the next.
Cautiously, Adam puts a hand on his knee, but Jonah flinches away as if the touch singed him. Adam can almost hear his heart shattering in his chest. His eyes riveted to his hands, he takes a step back. Tears well in his eyes as Nate takes his place before Jonah.
A wail, brings his focus back on Jonah and he takes Nate’s previous place beside their boyfriend. He doesn’t have time to feel monstrous, not when Jonah needs them.
“Jonah?” Nate’s voice is hesitant but gentle. “Jonah, can you look at me?”
He doesn’t move. His face is buried in his hands and he’s slightly rocking back and forth in his chair. Nate throws a desperate look towards Adam, looking for help, but he is as lost as Nate is: their boyfriend is right before them and yet they have no idea how to reach him. If they could just get him to look at them.
“Ya rouhi…” The petname is tinted with a hint of despair and concern. “I’m going to touch your hands, if that’s okay with you?” Nate warns him. He waits for a sign that Jonah heard him, but it never comes. Yet, in hopes that the warning made its way through, Nate slowly reaches for his hands, ready to back away at any sign of discomfort from Jonah.
When Jonah lets him put his hands over his, Nate starts softly rubbing circles on the back of his hands. Adam watches as their boyfriend relaxes a little at the gesture, until he allows Nate to peel his hands away from his face.
“Hi…” Nate whispers with a smile when their eyes finally meet, although he’s not sure Jonah can see him through the stream of tears. “Now I want you to take a deep breath with me, do you think you can do that?”
Nate breathes in and Jonah joins him. Nate doesn’t let go of his hands the whole time.
“You’re doing great, my love. One more time.”
Adam’s eyes fall on the open notebook while they do it a few more times. Covering every square inch of the page, he can barely decipher the five words etched over and over again into the paper.
‘I’m not afraid of you’ they read.
Instantly worry washes over him. What the hell happened while Jonah was at his apartment? Who did he encounter? Did they attack him? He barely holds back from questioning him, knowing this would only make the situation worse. Instead he tries to reign in his concern and takes a deep breath along with his boyfriends.
When the sobbing quiets down, he puts a hand on Jonah’s shoulder who looks up at him, tears still trickling down his face. Adam hesitantly reaches to brush away a strand of hair sticking to his cheek. His heart soothes in his chest when Jonah leans into the touch before wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Adam immediately starts raking his fingers through his hair for he knows that Jonah is very fond of the gesture.
They stay like this for a while. Jonah pressed against his stomach. Nate, still kneeling before him, although his head is resting on his lap now. This is an uncomfortable position for the three of them, but this is the one thing they need to ease the remnants of worry and fear which washed over them. So they do not move, not until every single one of them feels better.
“Want to tell us what happened?”
“Who is this about?”
A hoarse chuckle escapes Jonah’s mouth when the two vampires break the quiet at the same time.
“Bobby...” Jonah whispers with an exhausted sigh. He doesn’t need to explain furthermore, the mention of the reporter is enough to make the two vampires tense instantly.
A few weeks ago, Jonah told them about their shared past, how things ended between them, the impact he had on Jonah’s life and well-being. So the thought of the two of them, alone in Jonah’s apartment, makes Adam’s stomach lurch in his throat. This might be worse than anything he had in mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Jonah shakes his head. “Maybe later…”
“Would you like some distraction then?” This time Nate’s question is met with a nod. “Do you have something in mind?”
***
Felix is walking by to get to the kitchen when a scream, coming from the living room, makes him stop in his tracks.
Adam requisitioned the living room earlier this evening, denying the other half of Unit Bravo access to the room for the rest of the night, which of course spurred a lewd quip from Mason. And since Adam did not tell them the reason behind his request, Felix has been dying to take a look inside the living room. So, when another scream escapes from the room, followed closely by three distinct fits of laughter - bright and loud giggles, a low chuckle and a muffled laugh - he can’t help but push the doors of the living room ajar.
“I told you we should have put these pillows here!” Jonah complains just as Felix peeks his head through the door. He hardly manages to hold back a laugh when he sees what’s going on.
Adam and Jonah are standing in front of a massive pillow fort, or at least what is supposed to be a pillow fort, for it seems to have collapsed in on itself, which Felix guesses is the reason for the screams and giggles he heard seconds before. The ruins of the fort take up half of the living room and Felix would have given everything to see it in all of its glorious magnificence. So, he makes up a mental note of sneaking into the living room later on to see it, since they seem to be keen on rebuilding it.
In the meantime he observes as Adam and Jonah stand before the mountain of pillows and sheets, only remnants of the construction, trying to assess the damage. Jonah is actually holding what looks like a construction plan and Felix struggles to bite back the chuckle that threatens to leave the barrier of his lips. He shouldn’t be surprised, these two always take things way too seriously, but a construction plan? For a blanket fort? Really? He wishes he had taken his phone with him, Mason is never going to believe him without proof.
As they start debating over their next course of action, Felix’ eyes travel across the room in search of Nate. He heard him laugh earlier, so he must be somewhere in there. But his focus is caught by the paused image projected on the wall behind them. He recognizes that one movie with the green ogre that Jonah once called a masterpiece and Felix has to admit he’s quite impressed with the fact that he managed to get Nate and Adam to watch it. Adam in particular, seeing that making him sit through an animated movie is a feat Felix hasn’t yet managed to achieve.
Bo, emerging from underneath the collapsed heap of blankets, catches his attention.
With a bark, the dog starts pulling at the sheets when a strange bump suddenly forms into the pile of bed-linen and pillows.
“I know I cannot actually suffocate, but it would be nice if you two could actually help me out.” This time Felix cannot hold back a snort upon hearing Nate.
The other two immediately rush to haul him out of the wreckage. Jonah helps him up before rising on his tiptoes to land a soft peck on his cheek. Adam does the same on the other cheek.
“I’m sorry we left you in there.” Adam apologizes, his head nuzzling in the crook of his neck when Nate wraps an arm around him.
“Sorry!” Jonah gives him a sheepish smile before joining the hug, that’s when he finally spots him. “Oh, hi Felix!”
“Shit!”
The vampire slams the door shut, cursing Jonah for revealing his presence. He has to flee before Adam kills him for catching them being all lovey-dovey despite the fact that he was supposedly banned from the living room.
#thank you so much for the prompt i had so much fun write this!!#I swear one day I'll write a 100% soft and domestic fic for these 3#grape🎃#ship: i used to live alone before i knew you#adam x jonah x nate#oc: jonah rafferty#adam du mortain#nate sewell#adam x detective x nate#twc adam#twc nate#twc detective#twc fanfic#the wayhaven chronicles#if: twc#ali's writing
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the creature of the lake
my very late gift for the @mcytblraufest! my gift is for @dxmurei - i know you said i didn’t need to finish it but i was enjoying the idea a lot so here you are!
Summary: ‘The creature's name is Etho and he lives in the lake. Bdubs has yet to decide if this information is better than there being a ghost or not.’
Tango, Bdubs and Skizz have managed to find a deal of a lifetime in a cozy, lakeside cabin vacation. But something lurks beneath the surface, ready to strike... a friendship?
characters: bdubs, etho, tango, skizz
relationships: etho/bdubs (pre-relationship), zit (background) also briefly mentioned past scar/bdubs
tags/warnings: nothing too serious here! mostly fluff and fun, etho is a lake creature, some very embarrassing crushes, i tried to capture the vibes of a summer-themed graphic novel with this, just very light-hearted and focused on friendship, lake holiday vibing, set in a modern/real life au, but with lake creatures
a link to the fic is here!
#hermitshipping#trafficshipping#my writing#i won't maintag cause like. shipping but yeah!#i had a lot of fun writing this and exploring this idea#so thank you for the flexibility in your prompt <3!#as a caveat i am like. 80% sure it's comprehensible towards the end because i got hit by the heatwave then the big c so like. fun times!#gonna crawl back into bed now lmao#ethubs
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