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turning-the-kaleidoscope · 2 years

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How about Terumob with an overjoyed hug?

(thank you for the prompt!! <3 I went with an airport reunion because Feelings <3) - terumob airport reunion, fluff, future fic (think like 6-7 years post canon, no spoilers)

~*~*~*~*~

Teruki's feet hurt from pacing. He must've walked the whole airport at least twice--grabbed a coffee from one shop, canned melon juice from another, a handful of snacks he thought Shigeo would enjoy, another coffee... reasonably he could be doing something more productive with his time, but he's not been known for rationality when it comes to Shigeo.

Shigeo profusely encouraged Teruki to go home when he realized his flight had been delayed, but Teruki's having none of that. It's only been a week but he's missed Shigeo, and he'd rather pace the airport for five extra hours than be five minutes late whenever his plane finally lands.

As far as he's concerned, it's not that unreasonable.

He stops by a vending machine near baggage claim to check his phone. 11:37pm. Either Shigeo's fallen asleep on the plane or he forgot that Teruki paid for him to have in-air service, because Teruki hasn't heard from him since he boarded. He checks Shigeo's plane on his flight tracking app. He's supposed to be landing in ten minutes. He buys Shigeo a coffee and goes back to waiting.

Seven minutes later:

[Shige <3] we just landed! are you still waiting? I hope you went home :( I'm sorry it took so long

[Teru <3] welcome home!! <3 I'm at baggage claim, I'll keep an eye out for you. I got you coffee :D

[Shige <3] :( you didn't go home

[Teru <3] your coffee's getting cold love seriously I wouldn't have done anything productive at home. I brought my ipad and graded a couple papers while I've been waiting

[Shige <3] :( I guess that's not so bad the row ahead of me just stood up. i'll see you in a few minutes! <3

[Teru <3] !!! <3

Teruki shoves his phone in his pocket and takes another lap around the baggage claim. The airport is startlingly busy this time of night, but that makes sense. A lot of flights were delayed at the same time as Shigeo's, and the godawful storm that's been rocking Seasoning City earlier today. Every time a group of people exits the hall Teruki's on them at once, combing through them for any sight of his husband. He isn't the only person waiting, either: he watches several people get their reunions, families and couples and friends. He's let down each time it isn't Shigeo.

"Teru!"

Teruki snaps around. Shigeo waves at him from the other side of the airport, beaming. He looks exhausted and he's standing a little lopsidedly, but it's absolutely Shigeo, wearing a scarf over one of Teruki's tye-dyed hoodies and washed denim jeans.

Teruki kind of forgets about not sloshing the coffee around. He guns it, heels slamming, and Shigeo half-runs, half-jogs to meet him there.

Teruki captures him in a hug so fierce his heart nearly flies out of his chest. He lets his aura take care of the coffee and squeezes Shigeo for all he's worth, and doesn't realize he's picked Shigeo's feet off the ground until Shigeo's laughter fills his senses and Shigeo's arms wrap around his head.

Shigeo's always swept him off his feet, and it's so gratifying to be able to do the same. Even if Shigeo is heavy and deadweight from exhaustion over a day of stressful travel. Shigeo's fingers curl into his hair and his forehead bonks the crown of Teruki's head. He smells like burnt plastic and he is so, so warm.

"I missed you," Teruki stresses. "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you--"

They probably look ridiculous, Shigeo wrapped around his head laughing while Teruki's knees tremble under the weight and a paper cup of coffee hovers on its own beside them. And yeah, Teruki's still got his vain streak about him--along with the rest of his reservations. God, he’s smitten.

Shigeo squirms and Teruki doesn’t want to set him down, but he can’t see Shigeo like this, either, so he obliges. Shigeo’s smile eradicates any clinging trace of anxious energy in the back of Teruki’s mind.

“I was only gone for a week,” Shigeo says, out of breath. He grabs his coffee out of the air and Teruki loosens his aura from around it. “Thank you for picking me up.”

“Of course!” Teruki squeezes his hand. “Come on, let’s grab your suitcase and get out of here before the storm kicks up again.”

Shigeo lets Teruki lead him forward, familiar hand in familiar hand.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #terumob #fanfic #answered ask #hug meme #TY FOR THE PROMPT <3 #it's pretty short but I might add more to it and post on ao3 down the line #I'm working on the other drabble prompts i got and uh #they are Not drabbles one of them's spawned 4k and it's not even halfway done yet I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself #these are always super fun though!!! they get my muse going #ty again!! <3

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blackjackkent · 5 months

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For the lyric prompt: "I might walk home alone/But my faith in love is still devout" or "See, I’ve already waited too long/And now my hope is gone" for Matty/Ash? (If you feel like it. XD)

Yay, thank you for the prompt! (Wild to be doing Mass Effect writing again after so long. c: )

"See, I’ve already waited too long... And now my hope is gone..."

-----

Ash sits in one of the waiting areas of Gagarin Station's makeshift field hospital and tries not to fidget too much. Military discipline feels very far away when the only activity available is watching the orderlies slowly bring in the wounded from the battle on Earth. There's a muted scent of blood to the air that has lingered for days, but that's not the real reason for the sick feeling in her stomach.

They all sort of hoped, when the Normandy limped back to Gagarin - after the Crucible fired, after the chaotic crash into the jungle and the frantic field repairs to get them spaceborne again - that they would find Matty alive and waiting for them. Joker made a few comments about it, here and there - "He's fine, right? He was alive to pull the trigger. No way the old man would let a little knock like that take him out." Even Ash caught herself hoping, now and then - daring to believe that after everything, there could be a happy ending.

But of course, they all knew the truth, deep down.

According to Hackett, the last contact with Matty was aboard the Citadel, just before the Crucible went off. "He sounded bad," the Admiral had said grimly. "Weak as hell. Started mumbling stuff that didn't make sense, right before the signal cut out. I almost tried to send a few fighters in after him, and then the whole thing blew out. And, well, you saw the rest."

"Yes, sir," Ash had answered tonelessly. She remembered that rolling tide of red light chasing them through the relay and the brutal knowledge that they had to run, had to leave him behind. "Thank you, sir."

So why is she here, watching the endless parade of dead and wounded?

Hope is a funny thing. The thing with feathers/that perches in the soul... She held onto hers for quite a long time, but it has gone silent now, in spite of Emily Dickinson's assurances. She's just here, watching, waiting - perhaps to remind herself that even though Matty is gone, others survived the cataclysm and will be able to see this strange new world on the other side of the war...

Her breath catches in her throat and she hunches over in her seat. As that thought passed through her mind it suddenly became real in a whole new way. Matthias Shepard is dead, the news reports will say, and there will be memorials and celebrations of his bravery, the soldier that led the charge for the galaxy's freedom and died for it. But Matty is gone -- that is the truth that she has to carry in her heart, and grieve alone for the man that so few got to see.

The man with soft brown eyes staring over the top of a book at her when she thought he wasn't looking. The man who excitedly told her about the discussions he'd had with scientists about his ideas for biotech and prosthetics. The man who gifted her poetry and wrote his own scribbled on the margins of old reports. The man who cried out in his sleep, his body locked tense and rigid as he walked in restless dreams. The man she loved...

As once I wept, if I could weep, My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep One vigil o'er thy bed; To gaze, how fondly! on thy face, To fold thee in a faint embrace, Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, Nor thou nor I can feel again.

"Byron," she can almost hear him say. "I do love that hidden romantic streak you have..." And he'd grin and lounge back in his chair and recite the rest of the poem for her, out of that prodigious memory...

Her stomach hurts with the effort it takes not to sob. She grips the arms of the chair, white-knuckling her way through the sudden surge of grief. And just when she's begun to get a handle on herself, there's a burst of chaos from the other end of the hallway.

Several of the orderlies and the harried, exhausted-looking doctors are converging near the elevator, all talking at once. In spite of herself, Ash looks up, automatically tracking the increase in activity, picking up on muted snatches of the hubbub of conversation.

"--about eight broken ribs--" "--stopped the hemorrhaging planetside--" "--barely stable--" "--going to need a transfusion--" "--Shepard--"

Her heart seems to stop in her chest. The hope that she thought was gone from her flares to life abruptly, with painful intensity. No, she tells herself. It's not possible. You're just hurting yourself more.

But without realizing it, she's on her feet and moving, clambering over the chairs in the waiting area rather than going around. Her boots hit the decking again and then she's running down the hallway.

One of the doctors looks up, hearing her approach. "Commander Williams," he says briskly, not seeming to register her agitation. "Good. I was going to send for someone from the Normandy, but now there's no need."

She stares at him, gasping like a fish, not quite sure how to form words. "I-- did I hear you right?" she asks blankly. "Someone said Shepard."

The man blinks, and then some of his distraction fades for a moment and he seems to see her face more clearly. "Did no one tell you, Ms. Williams?" he asks. "I suppose not - we've only just learned now ourselves. Commander Shepard was found on Earth two weeks ago. They sent him by fastest transport to us here, but communications have been so spotty the message only got here a few hours ahead of him." He nods towards the elevator. "We're preparing for admittance and triage now."

Her breathing feels like it's not working quite right, each exhale catching in her throat. "He's alive?" she whispers.

"Barely, by the sound of it," the doctor says grimly. "But alive, yes. And we're going to do our best to keep him that way. I'd advise you to stay out of the way when he arrives--"

She's stopped listening, because the elevator has made a soft, somewhat off-key chime and the doors are sliding open...

Four Alliance soldiers in bloody, ragged BDUs are standing inside. Between them they're carrying a makeshift stretcher covered in more blood, and on it is stretched--

"Matty!"

He looks terrible. One of his arms hangs at an odd angle, his clothing is tattered and bloodsoaked and she can see more than one bone poking through torn flesh. But he's breathing; she can see the soft rise and fall of his chest, and at the sound of her voice, his eyes flicker half-open.

"Ash...?" he whispers.

"Commander, clear the way. We need to get him hooked up to a line," the doctor snaps. "And don't agitate him."

She backs up; the reaction to the tone of command is automatic. But she met his eyes, just for a moment, long enough for her to see him within that battered shell, and for him to see her waiting for him. It's enough for now.

Commander Shepard is not dead. Matty is not gone.

That thing with feathers in her soul is alive and well again and shouting its song at the top of its lungs.

#mass effect fic #matty shepard #ashley williams #shepard x ashley #mass effect #shepley #post-me3 #springagainafter #this grew a little more than i expected XD #happy fic in spite of how it starts i promise #been more than a little while since i've even thought about matty but this kinda just poured out #i guess i missed my sheps more than i realized maybe XD #ty for the prompt <3 #i hope you enjoy

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shalalalalaw · 1 year

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💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change? (for D2)

Oh, there's a few things off the top of my head but I'll stick to something recent and talk about Lightfall.

The story felt rushed and our gung-ho approach to simply crash landing on Neomuna, a place that has been hidden and isolated with its population hardly ever leaving feels a bit weird for us to...just drop in and instantly be goody-goody with them.

Afterall, we landed alongside an invading force and the last time a Neomuni was on Earth it was to wipe out the city's existence from Rasputin's databases, with Warlords running around.

It would have felt much more organic if Neomuna was a bit harder to get into than just taking a drop-pod and having the Cloudstriders be actively suspicious or even hostile towards us.

Having Rohan and Nimbus fight against us, while we were trying to help them with the Shadow Legion or discovering and protecting the Veil, would have been a much better story-beat. Especially if us fighting them was the cause of Rohan's death, either directly or indirectly.

It would have made a much better post-campaign experience, us trying to establish good relations. And it would have also been an easy excuse for us to not know anything about the Veil, since nobody trusted us enough to tell us anything, even if they didn't know anything themselves.

So tl;dr - our reception in Neomuna would have been the actual thing I'd change x)

#destiny #lightfall #askbox #ask meme #sylenth #sorry for the wall of text #i unfortunately have 'Opinions'#ty for the prompt <3

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wispstalk · 1 year

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I don't know if you're wanting specific prompt requests from that list but if you are... I'd love to see number 5 or 19

much delayed but here is prompt #5 - a visit to their favorite city. a followup to this piece

-----

From her forge Ghorza sees every visitor to Understone Keep. Few things can pull her focus from her work, but the legionary in her still takes note of every silhouette that passes.

Of late, the corners of her eyes are out for one figure in particular: a dragonbone warhammer strapped to a broad back, an oilcloth overcoat so grimy that its color has no name. Whenever the Dragonborn visits the Jarl, Ghorza knows her forge is next.

This time the woman comes bearing a sack of orichalcum ore, mined in Dushnihk by the look of it. The foretold hero earns her bread this way, in mines and mills and fields and forests. Ghorza wonders if old Garol knows her day-laborer was a dragonslayer. “That all? You need anything sharpened?”

“Not today,” Abi says, revealing the flawless edge of her game knife.

“Good. Knives never pick a good time to break.” She hates to picture Abi out hunting the Druadachs and unable to dress her kills or cut a guyline. “Take care of your knives and you won’t be forced to stick around the city while I work.”

Abi cocks her head, nothing legible in her expression. “You think that I hate Markarth?”

Ghorza arches an eyebrow and leans against the workbench, arms folded.

“All right,” says Abi, “it’s true that I hadn’t made it two steps inside the gates before someone was murdered in front of me. It’s true that the city is a pit of corruption and slavery and Daedra-traffickers. It’s true that there are more damn steps than High Hrothgar and not a hand-railing in sight.”

Ghorza waits. “But?”

Abi flashes a grin then, foxlike, a rare slippage of the mask of the Dragonborn. “No ‘but.’ All that is why I come here last. When I see your work, I leave in better spirits than I came.”

Ghorza tips her head in surprise, blinks, works her mouth open then closed. “Zarga,” she manages; her Cyrodiilic won’t suffice for such praise. “From one smith to another. But damn you, will you ever let me get a look at something you’ve made?”

Abi’s face goes blank as worn stone once more. She reaches to unhook the hammer from her back— a smooth mechanical motion, muscle moving on a grooved track, speaking of all the times she must have unleashed that beast of a weapon.

But the hand stops, and falls to her side, and again the mask slips.

“I’m sure I could bear a night at the Silver-Blood,” she says, grinning, “if you joined me for dinner. Come at sundown and I’ll tell you how this hammer came to be.”

#ty for the prompt <3 #elder scrolls #skyrim #last dragonborn #oc: crabigail #ray writes

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deathfavor · 3 months

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@rosysins said: 'I was worried something happened to you' (sweet & soft sentence starters) from gekk to byakko (bcos they deserve to be soft for v-day)

soft & sweet sentence starters

Byakkomaru can count on one hand the amount of times that he's recently had Gekkouin openly admit to anything when it comes to his emotions. He rarely speaks in anything other than barbs and is quick to revert back if the situation is anything other than dire. He's certain that's what's about to happen when he replies. He can't fault Gekkoin's concern ; the tiger has been abnormally absent despite the fact their wielders are nearby. Especially when Byakkomaru is prone to wandering around on his own to keep surveillance. So it had come more as a surprise when Gekkoin had come searching for him and eventually found him in the space between planes of existence where he'd been lurking.

" I'm fine, as you can see. " And here comes the insult or barb. Byakkomaru notes, a song and dance that he's become familiar with. His hair dances in the breeze, strands of stark white that stand out despite the fog and light colors. His gaze meets Gekkoin for a moment before turning away. " It's only a matter of time before I'd inevitable reform anyways. " He muses, with a soldier's like mindset that he's never been able to shake. He'd be brought back to the weapon no mate what. ( If it broke though, even he is not sure what would happen. )

" Ah - since you're here though. " Byakkomaru turns away from whatever it is that has held his interest, hands clasped together. " Shinya and I are going to be leaving tonight. " He strolls closer until he's standing only a couple feet from the bird demon, head canted to the side. " So this'll probably be our last bit of time together for a some time. " A small smile decorates his face as he bends down a little bit closer towards Gekkoin. " So? Want to spend what time we do have together before then? "

#rosysins #points byakko is always sOFT #no no i jest tho really #ty for the prompt <3 #᛭ — [IC] the beast as fierce as a winter blizzard [BYAKKOMARU]#᛭ — [QUEUE] ghosts of the past and of the future

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 7 months

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Playful prompts for tadc cast playing hide and seek with hider reader?

Awe this is a cute idea! (not including Caine bc I see him as the one organizing this game).

.........

Pomni

During her first week inside the Digital Circus, she's slowly adapting to everything...although she refuses to give up on finding an exit.

But when Caine forced everybody to play some hide n' seek, with you being the hider, she really doesn't want any part of it.

However you convinced her to play along, whispering that if she found you first, you'll share what you remembered from your old life as a "prize".

Although initially annoyed you wouldn't just tell her, she becomes motivated searching high and low, opening doors, looking down barrels, etc.

When she finally finds you (courtesy of a glitching object), she's anxious to hear what you had to say-

Unfortunately Caine decides to pop in and put on a big celebration for Pomni winning the game...which goes on the whole damn day up until everybody goes to bed that night.

You seemingly forgot what you were gonna tell her, to which she gets upset and angry that you gave her false hope, sulking in her room.

But you slide a note under her door, explaining that you only recently remembered your real name.

Suddenly she realizes that maybe her memories weren't 100% gone.

If you could suddenly remember your name, then....surely she can, too!

Gangle

After Jax was mean to her during the last hide n' seek game, you try cheering her up by playing another one.

It didn't involve Caine or anybody else. Just you two.

She mopes about being a terrible seeker. But since you're her best friend (and you promised her a prize), she'll go along if it makes you happy.

You decide to hide in spots that she would 100% think to check, deliberately allowing her to win.

Since she's all ribbons, it's easy for her to slink around and squeeze into tight spaces.

After finding you three times, she gets suspicious that you're purposefully going easy on her-

But she stops her accusations as you finally present her prize:

It's a brand new comedy mask!! Except this one wasn't made of porcelain or ceramic, instead being unbreakable material (or at least material that's couldn't casually be broken by anyone, especially Jax).

Gangle sobs with happiness before putting the mask on, squealing over how perfectly it fits, and hugging you tightly.

Thanks to you, she can finally feel joyful again!

Zooble

They'd rather do anything else....

But since this little hide n' seek "adventure" was all Caine's idea, she has no choice but to go along with it.

Even so, she puts the least amount effort into the game.

When you're the hider and she's the seeker, they just pray to whatever god is in this world (besides Caine) that you aren't anywhere in the Gloink cavern.

She'd rather not get discombobulated again.

Sometimes, she'll throw parts of herself in the direction where she thinks you're hiding, hoping to startle you into giving away your location so this dumb game can finally end.

Lucky for you, you know their tricks and keep quiet.

She doesn't expect any prizes (unless it's a limb that makes her body not look like a hot mess).

If they find you, she'll be like "yay I win..now I'm going back to my room" and saunter off.

Kinger

Like Zooble, he'd much rather do something else.

But he goes along with Caine's game anyways after you enticed him into playing for a prize.

Whatever momentarily stops his sanity from spiraling, I guess.

He searches high and low, getting nervous when he can't find you anywhere in the places he'd 100% expect you to be.

Lowkey starts to wonder if something terrible actually happened to you--like if you were trapped and not even Caine could help you.

The last place he could think of was your room but.....he doesn't have your key.

At the same time, he knew you weren't a cheater. You wouldn't hide somewhere that nobody else (except Jax) could access!

In the end, he goes back to his fort to sulk, openly declaring that you've won the game.

As it turns out, you chose to hide in that same fort, and you jump out with a grin, feeling victorious.

Kinger just stares at you for a solid 10 seconds.....before he suddenly screams and asks why tf you were in there.

You feel bad for scaring him, so you reward him for at least trying: a jar with a caterpillar currently wrapped up in a chrysalis.

He LOVES it, but now he carries around the jar every second of the day, staring at it until the little bug hatches.

At least now he has a reason not to fall off the deep end just yet.

Jax

Hide n' seek is like child's play to him.

Somehow this cheeky bastard knows exactly where you're hiding no matter what, even if it's outside the tent (like at the lake or fair).

It's definitely tarnishing your reputation as the best "hider" out of all of the gang.

When you ask him how tf he knew, he just shrugs and says "you're too predictable, try a better spot next time".

Hiding in your room is definitely not an option, as he's stolen your key (and would point out that would be cheating if someone else was the seeker instead)--so there truly is no place to hide.

Like Zooble, he's not in it for some prize.

It is, however, quite rewarding seeing you get so frustrated when he effortlessly finds you.

And that's enough for him

If it's a game involving everyone, then he just straight-up mocks the others for not realizing the very obvious spot (or at least to him it was obvious) you were hiding in.

Ragatha

She's probably the most enthusiastic about Hide n' seek (like you have mentioned, it's a good distraction from the stresses of being stuck in this virtual world).

Is also a fair and honest player, never once peeking while she counts to 10.

Like Pomni, she does her best to find you first, searching places she knows you frequent--or mentioned liking in the past.

But you're definitely the best hider out of everyone, so it's a little challenging.

Still, she refuses to give up!

When she does successfully find you, you and Caine decided that she should get a prize for being such a great seeker.

It's her very own centipede-repellent spray bottle.

While it won't stop Jax from trying to sneak those little pests into her room, the mist will deter them from coming near her at all and help her conquer her fear.

She's forever grateful and sprays it around her bed every night before she sleeps.

Oh, and she'll definitely threaten Jax with it if he even mentioned centipedes around her.

#ty for this prompt tbh <3 #trying to get a feel for how i wanna write these characters!#clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc pomni #tadc jax #tadc kinger #tadc zooble #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle #platonic #headcanons

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notdysfunk · 8 months

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Starting off the Palooza Promptober strong by missing the first day HAHA lets hope I can keep up 👀🍭🥧

#I kinda imagined this as those kids w/ the masks from nightmare before christmas #that is if im remembering them correctly #LOL #also dont @ me if you see me jumping between prompt lists........... .. . . .. . . .#ok ty <3 #moondrop #sundrop #daycare attendant #sundropfnaf #moondropfnaf #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #sunfnaf #moonfnaf #fnafmoon #my art

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erwinsvow · 2 months

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i feel like rafe would love to take pictures of innocent!reader while she’s looking up at him on her knees

why is he so icky stop.. <- thats what i wrote before starting n then i still made him a little cutesy. i have an illness. if you can write actually icky rafe so much props to you i just make him nice sajfajk every god damn time !

"yeah," you hear the word escape from rafe's mouth, though it's hard to hear anything at all over the sound of your own moans, rafe's dick lodged in your throat while you choked on it. your heart thuds dully in your ears too, blood rushing, because you're so horny, but rafe always makes you work for it. "jus' like that. good girl."

the praise makes you go faster, suck harder and use your hands where your mouth can't reach because rafe's too big. you look up for a moment through watery eyes, tears running down your cheeks while you take in your boyfriend's tilted back head, his hands tangled in your hair.

you like it, more than you had imagined. you used to think things like this were wrong, dirty. rafe had changed you completely, but you didn't mind. this was fun—watching rafe lose himself in the pleasure that you were causing.

as a result you take him as far into your throat as you can, choking on his dick and head dizzy with a lack of air. when you finally pull away to breathe, you cough, the spit on your lips still connected to the spit on rafe's tip, a trail hanging wetly.

rafe looks down, wishing he had his phone—you look perfect like this, his own corrupted angel. he could stare at this forever. he can't though, since you go right back for more and don't stop until he's cumming all over your tongue, hissing when you don't stop your motions and keep sucking, swallowing everything he gave you.

"shit, kid, jesus. fuck."

"was it good, rafey?" you ask, still sitting on your folded legs, resting your head on his thigh. you look up at him with your wet eyes, your shy smile.

"don't move." he leans over, grabbing his phone and taking a picture of you like that, staring up at him with his cum still on your lips. "god damn kid. yes, baby, it was good. shit. that's my new wallpaper." he worries for a second, that something like that is too much for you.

you beam from your position, smiling brightly.

"really? promise?"

#funnnn omg this prompt <3 #made it cutie and pink for you angel!#ty so much #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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zyphnn · 10 months

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@codywanweek day 7: armour

wanted to have one last drawing to finish off the week with! another successful codywan week in the books <3

#zephs art #star wars #cww2023 #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #tcw #the clone wars #sad i couldnt do yesterday's prompt but oh well!#ty to everyone whos been so supportive of my art btw <3!

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karkatbug · 3 months

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gotta dress snazzy for morning chores

#Karkat just wants to make Dave smile and putting the wiggler in a tiny tie is guaranteed to do that #5AM dishes in the communal kitchen is no longer painful someone quick call Kanaya shes gotta see this.#ty kenz for the bug in a tie prompt <3 #homestuck #davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #hsfanart #wriggler karkat #my art

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loviatarsluv · 4 months

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hey there! I saw your post about asking for little blurb requests :) what about one where they’re bathing in the river?

hiiii omg okay so since you didn't specify which character, i'll just pick one hehe this is one of my fav "tropes" i guess if you wanna call it that so i was pumped for this one!!

so sorry for the late post, I took my time w this one bc I love romantic soft fluffy gale stuff ♡︎

Gale x AFAB f!tav / AFAB f!reader

rating: mature (fluff and really romantic sweet smut^.^)

It had been at least a tenday since the last time you or any of your companions had been afforded the luxury of a bath, having been on the road and traveling the road to Baldur's Gate for days and not coming across a single stream or lake somehow.

You’d been craving a thorough bath since the battle with Ketheric Thorm and the rest of the cultists at Moonrise Towers - you swore you’d never be able to get all the blood and grime out of your hair at this rate. It started to affect your functioning and already completely erratic sleep schedule, as all you could think about was the blood under your nails and the layer of grime and dried viscera on your skin.

Not to mention, you’d barely been able to be physically affectionate with Gale without disgusting yourself. That alone was making it nearly impossible to think straight.

He insisted that it was fine and that he didn’t mind, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to want to do anything intimate in this state. This was far beyond just having not bathed for a few days and having a natural musk (which Gale has made very clear that he very much enjoyed) - and you were nearly at your wits end.

So naturally, when Halsin notified the group that he found a river that flowed into a small lake while he was hunting in wild shape, you were the first to claim first turn bathing. The group all groaned in protest - particularly Astarion who’d been just as, if not more perturbed about his begrimed state and stained clothes - everyone else longing to have a moment of reprieve and refresh before whatever awaited you in Baldur’s Gate.

There was a resounding sigh and eyeroll (apart from Halsin) from the group as Gale offered to accompany you, after Halsin suggested bathing in pairs for safety purposes. Your companions had not been exactly quiet about their annoyance toward you and Gale’s blatant displays of affection since your night together under the stars in the Shadow Cursed Lands - you and Gale joked with each other that they were all likely just jealous and pent up, so to speak.

You were the first to slink off toward the river, barely able to contain your excitement towards finally feeling clean again. Gale ran to his tent to grab the lavender soap he found while exploring that he’d been saving for himself (and you) as well as a couple of cloth towels that he washed and asked Astarion to sew up the tatters and tears in.

You essentially stripped yourself almost entirely bare before even getting close to the water’s edge, leaving a trail of garments and belts and boots behind you as you ambled up to the shore.

The air was crisp and the breeze was comfortably cool, the reflection of the moon shone and shimmered across the water surface. It almost felt unreal, like it was a mirage after one too many days without fresh drinking water. The only way you were able to confirm that you weren’t dreaming was by wading into the placid waves and laying back, allowing yourself to float.

You let out a breath that it felt like you’d been holding for days and closed your eyes, your body gently drifting as you lazily moved your arms and legs with no destination in mind. This was the most relaxed you’d been in months (and probably would be for the foreseeable future), and you intended on enjoying every second.

Gale finally approaches the shore, nearly dropping everything in his hands when he catches sight of you peacefully floating on your back, your bare skin pebbling and glistening in the pale moonlight. His gaze trains on your breasts, your nipples peaked from the cool breeze hitting your wet skin. He’d been missing your body and being close to you terribly since the last time the two of you had been intimate, and just the sight of you this way was almost too much for his heart (and loins) to bear.

He wades out into the water to join you, soap in hand. You only notice his presence by the overwhelming scent of lavender filling your senses. Your eyes slowly open, and your jaw nearly drops.

Just as he’d been transfixed by your body, you found yourself sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of his - water up to his waist, hair tied back in a half updo with small strands falling over his face, the blue reflection of the water shining on his chest and skin. He was easily one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, and you thanked whatever gods you could every morning that you woke up beside him.

“You are so beautiful,” He smiles, bringing his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close to his chest. “Even I’m finding it hard to conjure the proper words to describe your beauty.”

You giggle, pressing your face against his chest and listening to his slightly hastened heartbeat.

“To render the great Gale of Waterdeep speechless is a feat not many have accomplished, it's an honor.”

He chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He begins to rub gentle circles on your back with the bar of soap, and you feel all the stress you’d been holding on to slowly release, if only just for tonight.

“Yet you manage to make it a regular occurance,” he hums, bringing his free hand up to caress your jaw.

A peaceful and comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you listen to the songs of the night - the sound of the water as it kisses the edge of the shore, the breeze through the trees and surrounding grass, the chirping and singing of whatever nocturnal creatures lurked nearby as they begun their day. You listen to his soft breathing and his heart as it thrums steadily in his chest, and the way he hums and sighs when you pepper delicate kisses around his shoulders, chest, and neck.

He migrates the soap to your arms, cradling your hand in his when he holds them up to thoroughly coat you and massage the dirt and grime from your skin. He takes his time, not a single inch of you left uncared for. He brings his hands to cup your breasts, smoothing bubbles over them and lightly pinching their peaks, eliciting a moan from you and instantly sending heat straight to your core.

To your slight dismay, he moves on, continuing his prior ministrations by rubbing the soap across your belly, then pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips when he notices your smile falter at his attention being directed there. His eyes meet yours, full of nothing but pure adoration - he thinks the world, the moon, and all of the stars of you, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t show you that at every opportunity. He believes he’s found heaven within you, your body being a perfect vessel worthy of pious devotion.

“Doing okay, my love?” He asks, breaking away from the kiss.

You nod, breath hitching as you feel your heart pounding against your ribs. “Okay is an understatement.”

He smiles widely, pleased to know that you were enjoying yourself. He knew that the last few days had been particularly hard on you and all he wanted was to see you finally relax - you deserve nothing less.

“I’ve missed you deeply.” He sighs, leaning his head onto your shoulder and kissing it, the rough texture of his beard tickles you when he does.

“We’ve slept together every night for weeks now, darling,” You giggle. “But I know, I’ve missed you, too. It's nice not to be repulsed by my own skin for a change.”

You reach for his hand that held the soap, only for him to move it away from your grasp. “Ah ah, I’m not quite finished.”

A deep red blush creeps to your cheeks as you quickly catch on to what he’s referring to, the heat that had slowly been coiling in your gut starting to burn ever hotter. You clench your thighs together on pure reflex, your body chasing any sort of friction to soothe the ache that had begun between your legs.

He notices and tenderly pushes his hand between your legs to part your thighs, pressing a longer and more meaningful kiss to your lips while lazily stroking the inside of your thigh with two fingers.

“May I?” He asks, stopping his fingers just at the top of your thigh.

You nod fervently, your eyes full of desperation.

He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, his deft fingers moving to gently massage your folds for just a brief moment before replacing them with the bar of soap. The feeling of the soap versus his fingers is like comparing a pebble to gold.

Gale was a fast learner, and in the few weeks since the two of you had become intimate with each other, he had become a consummate expert when it came to your body. He learned every little maneuver that would have you a moaning and whimpering wreck. You’d never been with a lover that managed to make foreplay nearly as pleasurable, sometimes even more, than actual sex. You’d also never been with a lover quite as generous as Gale - sometimes it even seemed he enjoyed pleasuring you more than anything else, as he’d spend hours with his head between your thighs without a single complaint.

So to only get a brief taste of what you knew was exactly what you needed, was torture.

You whine when he moves his fingers away, jutting out your bottom lip into a pout.

“I know, love. Just be patient a little longer for me,” He coos, caressing your cheek in an attempt to soothe you while he finishes cleaning you.

You contain yourself for the time being - resorting to holding your breath and clutching on to his shoulder for dear life, trying your best to be patient, because you knew that he was well worth the wait.

He finally finishes, brushing against your aching and throbbing sex with the soap one last time for good measure, then hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you breathe, your shoulders sinking as you release the air you’d been holding for a little too long as you’d started to feel lightheaded. “For taking care of me.”

“Thank you for allowing me to.” He says simply. Ever the gentleman.

He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, his hands resting on your lower back at the crest of your ass cheeks, your hands tangling into his chestnut and silver streaked locks. You let one hand rest on the nape of his neck, holding him to you to extend the kiss as long as you can, wishing you could just stay this way for the rest of your life.

When the kiss finally breaks, you motion for him to turn around so that you can lather his back. He slowly turns, seemingly reluctant to take his eyes off of you.

You’ve seen Gale naked plenty of times now, but you hadn’t realized how rarely you’d seen his bare back. And seeing it this way - wet and glistening under the silvery light of the moon, flexing as he adjusts so you can reach his shoulders properly - it was mouthwatering. There wasn’t a single part of his body that you hadn’t found yourself in awe of.

Once you lather his back fully, he turns to face you once more, his once content gaze now full of unbridled desire. Your breath catches, but still you try to continue and massage the soap onto his chest, then his stomach, letting your fingertips graze the dark trail of hair as your hand moves down.

His hand travels down to your sex once again, this time, fully intentional with his movements as he presses his fingertips to the sensitive bud. Your body jolts involuntarily in response, a gasp escaping your lips. He hums, slowly massaging along your folds, his finger edging just at your entrance but not dipping in. You try to maintain, rubbing circles of soap into the same spot for too long before you notice and move on to a different area. He grins widely, now seeing this as a game - a game he intended to win.

He leans his face forward to press a wet kiss to your jaw, leaving enough space between your bodies so you can continue to lather him. Your arm stills for a moment, your mind starting to go blank with every swipe against your throbbing cunt and his tongue brushing against your neck.

You’re trying your damnedest to keep strong, determined to ensure that he receives the same amount of care that he’d shown you, but he seems equally as determined to distract you from your efforts.

A loud moan tumbles from your lips as his finger gently pushes into you, your hips bucking against him, causing his palm to rub against your clit. He grunts, his hardened cock pressing into your hip as he lurches forward for a better vantage point to plunge his finger into you deeper and deeper.

Your hand flies to grasp his length, gripping slightly tighter than you normally would as he adds a second finger, your hand clenching tightly onto him in response. He sucks a breath through his teeth, a low rumbling in his chest that almost resembles a growl following it. You pump his cock in tandem with him pistoning his fingers in and out of you, the sound of the water splashing with your movements mixing with each of your moans and heavy panting.

You feel yourself creeping up on the edge, your orgasm imminent if he keeps up this pace. He can tell that you’re close by the way your walls clench around his fingers. You quicken the rhythm you were stroking his cock at, his hips jutting forward into your hand.

“Wait, wait,” he breathes, placing his hand over yours to stop you. “If you keep that up, I won't last much longer.”

You bite your lip, peering up at him through your lashes. “I want to make you come.”

His eyes widen slightly, his chest heaving. “Not like this. I need to have you, my love.”

You feel your walls clench around his fingers again just at his words, now desperately wishing it was his cock instead.

“Please,” you whimper, pulling his body closer so that your chest presses flush against his, his hand still between you, fingers still gently curling and thrusting into you.

“I want you to come first, love. Can you do that for me?” He purrs, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words alone push you right back up to the edge of the peak, your legs start to tremble and your fingers dig into his shoulders for support while you feel your body becoming mush from his touch. You roll your hips into his hand erratically, your hips stuttering as you get closer and closer, your vision turning white.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.”

Your head falls back and you cry his name over and over as you finally reach the peak, tumbling over the edge into free fall. His hand cradles the back of your head, his thumb gently stroking the side of your neck to coax you through your orgasm. You feel your entire body shake as you come down, and you thank the gods that you were waist deep in water otherwise you might’ve collapsed into a puddle on the floor. Not that Gale would let you fall, likely he’d scoop you up in his arms and carry you to bed before you could.

Your head slumps forward once again, resting against his shoulder as you try to catch your breath. You bring your hand up to trace the circular marking of the orb in the center of his chest, fingertips tracing the dark lines that trail out of it, stretching all the way to his eye. His eyes flutter closed at your gentle caresses, and he presses his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back.

“If I could only live within a single moment for eternity, I think I’d choose this moment with you under the moon’s gaze.”

His brown eyes meet yours, almost seeming to sparkle as he speaks, every single word wrapping around you and enveloping you in a warmth that you thought only the sun could provide.

Gale was the sun. He was the rain after a drought. He was the forgiving breeze on a scorching hot day.

“I love you.” Is all you can manage to say, unable to form the proper words to express to him how truly and utterly besotted you were.

Your lips collide once again, and you hope that the kiss tells him everything you couldn’t with words. This was the kind of kiss that people go to war for, the kind of kiss you’d die to experience just once.

His hands greedily roam your body, claiming each inch of it as his with just a touch of his fingertips. His hands move to cup your ass cheeks, lifting you and wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel his hand reach under you to take hold of his cock, preparing it for you. You snake your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly so he tilts his head back. Your lips and teeth waste no time finding his sweet spot, surely leaving marks that will be there in the morning. You taste a mixture of the soap, the lake water, and the natural saltiness of his skin. He whimpers slightly when you bite just a little harder, with more intent.

Unable to hold back a second longer, he lines the swollen head of his cock up at your entrance, waves of electricity shooting through you when you feel him slowly start to slip in.

You almost swear it’d hurt less if he just slammed home - the way you were throbbing and aching for him was nearly unbearable.

But Gale has never been hasty. He takes his time, he calculates his every move, he’s deliberate.

You’ve had sex with Gale several times now at this point, but every time your body still has to adjust to him, and he’s aware of that. He moves slowly not only for your comfort, but also so that he’s able to savor every inch of you as he buries himself into your warmth.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this,” he breathes, his grip on your ass tightening as he finally bottoms out, the head hitting just the right spot.

“Gods, I hope not,” is all you’re able to choke out before he begins a torturously slow rhythm with his thrusts, every inch of him stroking your still sensitive walls from your prior orgasm.

Your legs tighten around his waist as you cling onto him for dear life, and the rest of the world fades away. There’s no tadpoles, no Absolute, no cultists — there’s only the two of you wrapped in each other's embrace, and the moment feels infinite.

His hand tangles into your still dripping wet hair, droplets flinging from it onto your back as he fists it, sending goosebumps racing across your flesh. He breathes heavily, murmuring random assortments of curses and your name under his breath as his pace picks up ever so slightly, his conviction to take it slowly, faltering.

You feel yourself approaching the brink again as he speeds up.

“Gale, please, I’m—“

“I know, my love, me too.” He moans, now slamming into you with a reckless abandon, all control he’d had previously now washed away with the tide and your pleading.

He finishes with one last stuttering plunge into you, the warm sensation of his spend flooding you and his cock throbbing sending you over the edge along with him. He stays in you while you both come down, chests heaving and hearts racing.

“I love you, too. With every beat of my heart.” He says after a long and comfortable silence, pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes.

You stay there for a few minutes longer, embracing, kissing, joking about pruney fingers and how much shit your companions were going to give you when you returned.

When you both emerge from the water, Gale grabs one of the towels and wraps it around your body first, rubbing your arms to warm you as a shiver passes through you. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, then wraps the other towel around his waist. You gawk at him for a moment, and you think you could easily go for a round two if you weren’t entirely drained from the day prior to your bath… activities.

As you walk back to camp hand in hand with him, a true and genuine smile plastered on your face that you weren’t sure you’d ever smiled before, you feel a sort of selfish gratefulness. You feel as though the cosmos aligned just perfectly to drop him into your life, even amidst absolute mayhem and turmoil. Even if nothing came of the months spent adventuring and battling cultists and searching for cures, you still had this - you had him. And he, you.

And you think to yourself - even if you died tonight, you’d die happily knowing you got to spend a moment under the warmth of his sun.

————

god I love gale so much

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cool-thymus · 6 months

Text

Rin Week 2023

A drabble and an illustration for the most special girl in Narutoverse.

Day 4 | November 15 Secret

Team Minato; Rin has a secret; Kakashi has a secret; Obito ...is asleep; they are all tipsy; this is supposed to be funny

The shinobi world is a cruel place. If you’re raised a ninja, it often feels like running naked through a nettle field. No matter how fast you are trying to get out, it always stings. Constant pain and misery touch your bare skin, and you slowly get used to it. The shinobi world is greedy too. It takes the people you love and hardly ever returns them. And you are expected to go with it, no questions asked. But as one Red-Hot Habanero shrewdly observed, this world had room for smiles, laughter, and occasional celebration, especially when your loved ones were given back to you.

A team of three young shinobi of the Hidden Leaf was that lucky. But miracles didn’t just happen for them. They had to claw back their teammate from the darkness and then fight day and night for his life. Cry for each other and hold shaking hands; lose sleep and hug tight.

Since then, the hardest and the happiest day of their lives turned into an anniversary that was celebrated as the team’s birthday, their own little festival. Kushina and Kakashi would prepare a feast making sure everybody’s favorite dish was on the menu. Rin was in charge of decorations and flowers. Every year she would make a special arrangement for the table and provide small bouquets for her teammates. The location for the celebration was Minato and Obito’s duty. They liked scouting out picturesque spots, preferably near water. The hike was their small ritual: they traveled alone, mostly in silence. Obito felt special because he was on the same task as the captain, but for Minato it was a pilgrimage to the day when he carried the dying boy back to the village cursing himself for every wrong choice he’d made. Now he let Obito lead the way watching how the 16-year-old jumped left and right like a puppy chasing a butterfly. He followed and silently renewed his vow to always have his back, always protect the kid he’d almost lost.

This year they picked a cabin near a small waterfall. The view was worthy of the occasion, and there were enough rooms to stay overnight. The Namikaze-Uzumaki family had grown a new member who enjoyed the attention and liked making everything about himself. He was three. The baby added the ingenuousness that the team gradually grew out of, and he kept his parents occupied, so that Rin, Obito and Kakashi could have more privacy and party the way they wanted.

However, none of them was a party animal.

***

“Isn’t he adorable?” Rin said quietly tugging at Kakashi’s sleeve. Obito had rested his head in her lap; his eyes were closed, lips parted; soft snuffling noises made it clear - he was fast asleep.

“The word is ‘pathetic’, Rin. We didn’t even drink that much, and he’s already out like a light.” Kakashi took another sip of his beverage (being on good terms with the Sannin had its benefits: their favorite genius was allowed a drink of his choice now and then, in moderation though), “Or… maybe he just really wanted to get to his comfort place as soon as possible.”

“You mean he’s dreaming of something comforting?”

“I mean your lap.”

Rin paused for a moment, startled with the misplaced sarcasm, but then smirked at him and continued stroking Obito’s hair. “Are you trying to be funny or irritating?”

Kakashi’s snarky comments never worked on her; at least they never escalated into a full-scale fight like they did with Obito. Rin was just… smarter. If Kakashi all of a sudden started showing his sassy attitude, it only meant he was uncomfortable. She reached for his face and playfully squeezed his cheek like she would with their captain’s little son.

“Rin, are you trying to be … cheeky right now?” He barely finished the sentence as they both started giggling. Making terrible jokes was their thing, especially when they were tipsy like that.

“What is it, Kakashi? How did he piss you off this time?”

“He didn’t. Everything’s fine.”

“Come on now. You know you’ll feel better if you tell me. Is it because he kept teasing you about that girl?”

Kakashi pulled his mask down and drank some more, then he looked at Rin, the mask still under his chin.

“Bingo,” said the girl with a half-smile. “You know he’s not trying to be insensitive, right? It’s just that you never talk to him about this kind of stuff, and he probably needs it. So he’s simply trying to start a conversation with you.”

Kakashi turned his gaze to the floor in front of him pulling his yukata over his knees.

“I know we’ve been over this, but… why don’t you just tell him?”

“Let’s not do this tonight, Rin.”

“You told me…”

“It was different with you! You had a thing for me, and it wouldn’t be fa…”

Rin quickly pressed her finger to his lips, “Yeah-yeah! Let’s pretend you told me because I’m your best friend and not recollect the moment I made a fool of myself?”

Kakashi took her hand in his, bowed his head and pressed his forehead to the back of Rin’s hand, “I’m still sorry about that by the way.”

“Hatake Kakashi, stop being so suave, or my inappropriate feelings will return again!”

They both started laughing causing Obito to stir in his sleep. Rin pulled Kakashi closer, and he moved to sit next to her, their attention returning to the sleeping teammate.

“Although… he was kind of an ass to you today,” whispered Rin. “Do you want to teach him a lesson?”

“I might wanna teach him a lesson, yes. About the importance of respecting other people’s boundaries,” Kakashi whispered jokingly, but then, to his surprise, Rin carefully lifted Obito’s head, laid it onto Kakashi’s lap, and sprang to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Be right back. Don’t wake him up!” she shot back and dashed to the hall.

Obito’s head felt heavy. Without Rin in the room, it was too quiet, and Kakashi could hear his friend’s breathing: in and out, the chest rising and falling, slowly, evenly; no gasping for air. “Good job, buddy. You’re doing a great job, just keep breathing, okay? Just like that.” His own words from a long time ago echoed in his mind, but he suppressed them right away reminding himself that there was no need to monitor Obito’s breathing anymore. He was okay now.

Rin suddenly reappeared next to Kakashi, eyes sparkling with mischief. Noticing that his hands were still hovering near Obito’s temples, she gently nudged Kakashi out of his trance. When his eyes gained focus again she proudly demonstrated a black marker that she'd fished out from Kushina’s bag with the baby stuff.

“Are you actually going to draw on his face? Like a five-year-old?”

“Yep! Can you steady his head a bit, Mr. Boring?”

Kakashi’s hands reluctantly landed on Obito’s cheeks tilting his head in Rin’s direction. She proceeded to draw a funny-looking beard and a mustache.

“You know, he can’t grow a beard anyway, so this is offensive as hell. Keep drawing.”

Rin raised her eyes at Kakashi covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. Then she started to draw a pair of very thick eyebrows.

“Oh, that’s just cruel! He’ll never forgive you for making him look like Gai.”

“Me? Who said I was responsible for this? It’s totally your doing,” she said in a mockingly indignant tone as she traced out ‘Kakashi did this’ on Obito’s cheeks.

“Hey! He’d happily let you off the hook, but me?! I’ll never see the end of it!”

Rin ignored Kakashi’s words, admiring her work.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Having said that, she was carefully watching her friend whose left hand was still resting on Obito’s cheek.

“Yeah… he is.”

“Kakashi, you can tell him. He’ll be okay with it, I promise.”

There was a minute of silence between them.

“But you can’t promise me that, Rin. What if he’s simply weirded out by it? Or feels uncomfortable? What if he stops hanging out with me at all?”

“That’s not gonna ha…”

“I know! I know this is probably not gonna happen, but what if it does? What if I'm not a part of his life anymore? You were there, Rin; it was hell without him. I’m just… I’m not ready. I’m not ready to lose him… again.”

“Kakashi, you idiot! Did you really think I would…” Obito opened his eyes and tried to prop himself up with his elbows, but in an instant a very precise hand hit several chakra points on his neck knocking him unconscious.

“Kakashi! You can’t do that! Why did you hit him?!”

“It was a reflex, okay!” They both leaned over to check on Obito.

“Has he been awake the entire time?” Kakashi was getting worried.

“How should I know? Seriously, Kakashi, I just wanted you to be honest with your best friend, and you go and do this?!”

“I said I didn’t mean to knock him out, okay?! And by the way, maybe you should stop berating me? It’s not like you’re completely honest with him either. Did you have enough courage to tell him about your secret nurse-boyfriend?”

“Rin?! You have a bo…” Obito regained consciousness but only for a few seconds before another hand made him pass out again.

“RIN!”

“I’m sorry!”

@rinweek2023

#rinweek2023 #nohara rin #team minato #mydrawings #mywriting #hatake kakashi #uchiha obito #the tragedy siblings #mai ty for the prompt <3

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denpa-dere · 7 months

Note

prompt 10 for luci!!!

Prompt: “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” with Lucifer

Warnings: Alcohol/Drinking

___

Okay, so, maybe you two had formed the bad habit of egging each other on. Not that he'd ever admit to letting anyone, let alone some little human, get under his skin and sway his judgment. No. He was Lucifer, first-born of the seven lords of hell and Avatar of Pride. As the prince's right hand, he had an image to uphold, always.

But between you and the prince's foolish encouragement, he was drunk.

The evening had gotten away from the lot of you, having fun and drinking on Lord Diavolo's dime in celebration of another RAD project successfully brought to completion. As the night drew on and the crowd thinned, some of the other demon brothers with weaker constitutions trickled out of the upscale bar, heading for home. You waved off Beel (saddled with an unconscious Belphie) when he offered to walk you back to the House of Lamentation. You could handle yourself, you reassured him.

Besides, it was rare to see Lucifer in such fine form: disheveled, face flushed, laughing raucously. He slouched over the bar, covering his face with one hand, trying to compose himself, and it was so- for lack of a better word- human that it made your heart swell.

You excused yourself for a quick trip to the restroom, wanting to collect yourself before seeing what else the night had in store. Fairly drunk yourself, you started to psych yourself up. Yes, obviously between Diavolo and Barbatos, Lucifer would get home safely no matter what state he was in. But you wanted to be the one to take him home. The thought of speaking alone with a more loose-lipped, candid version of him excited you a little too much.

You caught your reflection in the mirror and paused, dismayed. Maybe it was the harsh bathroom lighting, but you looked tired, older than your years. A cold weight settled in your stomach. You adjusted your hair and tried to shake off your sudden burst of insecurity. You were thinking too hard.

You had been gone for just a moment, but returned to find your seat at the bar taken by a beautiful demon. Even after all this time, the natural beauty of most demons still sometimes stunned you. The demon leaned in close, speaking to a very animated Lucifer and laughing coquettishly as he described something you couldn’t quite hear. You felt the air punched out of your lungs and numbly made your way over to gather your things.

"Hey, it's getting late, I'm going to head back," You said, throat dry but still smiling. Only Barbatos seemed to hear you. You bid him farewell and made your escape.

You felt stupid. How arrogant were you, anyway? You may be friends, you may live under the same roof, but you were still just you.

You heard your name called and turned, squinting in the darkness. It didn't take long for Lucifer to catch up with you.

"Why didn't you say you were leaving? You shouldn't be walking alone this late," He scolded you.

"I did," You replied with a thin-lipped smile, "You were busy."

He racked his brain for a moment and then chuckled, "Ah, that. I swear, I can never find a moment's peace."

“You seemed like you were having a good time,” You mused, continuing your walk home, “You should have stayed.”

You obliged, letting him turn you to face him. Maybe it was the alcohol, but tears were beginning to prick the corners of your eyes. He regarded you with an expression you couldn’t quite place- pity? That was your uncharitable interpretation, anyway.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, sounding somewhat offended, “Do you have better things to do than stand to be in my company?”

You clicked your tongue. Of course he would go there.

“No, Lucifer,” You sighed, feeling too raw to argue, “That’s not… I didn’t want to intrude if you were, you know, feeling a connection or something.”

Awkward and ineloquent. Nice. You could feel him staring into the side of your head but refused to look up. Your face burned. This wasn’t going how you had hoped. You sped up a bit, wanting to be home and done with it, already. You could sleep it off and pretend this didn’t happen, that he didn’t just see how transparently you were wounded.

Lucifer blatantly bit back a laugh and you bristled at his condescension. Whatever you thought was between the two of you had never been spoken aloud. It now laid vulnerable and dangling in front of your face, and he was laughing at you. Perhaps wishful thinking had caused you to misinterpret things. That cold weight in your stomach grew heavier.

“Is that- are you jealous?” He asked, incredulous. You didn’t reply, keeping your gaze straight ahead. His eyes widened.

“You are,” He said, reaching for your hand but catching the sleeve of your coat, “Stop, stop, stop.”

“You forget yourself,” He said, a bit more sober than before, “And our pact. You are mine, does that mean nothing to you?”

Fuck, now you were crying. This pressure was too much, the dam was about to burst.

“It means everything to me,” You choked out.

He took both of your freezing hands in his, “I have been around for a very long time,” He said, as if soothing a child, “You are the only human I have ever made a pact with. The only one I have ever trusted with that sort of power-”

You huffed, “I’m not talking about pacts.”

“I know that,” Lucifer said, silently pleading you would not have him elaborate. Not here, in some cold, dingy street. Not now, too drunk to give you the confession you deserved, “But what part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”

#obey me fic #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #writing prompts #denpa's transmissions #drabble: writes 900+ words #dis one hit good because im feeling kinda insecure today ty anon :3 hope you like it

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ok-boomerang · 3 months

Note

Hey Lena!

Zutara Drabble # 5 & 8, please. ^.^

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” & “Wanna bet?”

Katara knocked once, briefly, on the Fire Lord’s office door before pushing it open and inviting herself in. She and Zuko had worked together for so long—had been friends for so long—that they no longer had the need, or the patience, for a semblance of formality.

Katara supposed that on some unlucky day in the future she might walk in on him practicing his Iroh impression, or worse (better?), with his pants down. But per usual, the Fire Lord was merely at his desk, head in hand, as his glazed-over eyes scanned some boring parchment.

“Hey Zuko,” chirped Katara, feeling herself almost expand upon seeing him, upon seeing the transformation of his face when his eyes fell on her—the subtle widening of his right eye, the easy smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” he said in response, setting his parchment aside and giving her his full attention. A piece of hair had fallen out of his top knot. “My favorite ambassador—"

“Mhm, whatever,” she joked back. “Funny how I become the favorite every time the fishing waters treaty is up for renewal—"

“You’re always my favorite, I just happen to point it out at specific times.”

Katara rolled her eyes, even though she felt her cheeks warm a little at Zuko’s words.

“Anyway,” she said, shrugging off that impossibility, “I’m just delivering the report on the healers in Fire Fountain City.” She handed him another piece of parchment, which Zuko took with some hesitation.

“The report on the healers—?” he muttered, eyes scanning the page. “But I didn’t need this for a couple more days—”

“Yes, well, Tanriq invited me to the Fire Lantern Festival tomorrow evening, so I got it done early.”

She watched as Zuko’s eyes stopped scanning the parchment, but he didn’t look up.

“Tanriq?” For some reason, his voice had gone up in pitch.

“Do you know another Tanriq?” Katara asked, curious at Zuko’s confusion.

“The—the ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe?”

“Of course,” said Katara slowly.

“You’re—together?”

“No,” she said immediately, and then chided herself. “I mean—I’m giving him a chance. So…maybe in the future? We’ll see how it goes—”

“It’s not going to go well,” Zuko interrupted her.

Katara blinked at him. “Huh?”

“I mean,” Zuko said, bringing his hands in front of him on the desk and rolling them together. “I just mean—it’s just a little odd, the two of you—the Fire Lantern Festival—"

“What’s so odd about it?” Katara asked, half surprised and half curious about the issue Zuko saw that she couldn’t. “I like festivals.”

“Right, but do you like them with Tanriq? I—I dunno you will.”

“Sure, he’s a little boring—”

“He doesn’t know you at all!” Zuko interjected, and then quieted, shifting his eyes. But he continued. “I mean, will he know to take you to the food stalls that sell ocean kumquats? Will he take you dancing early enough so you don’t miss the tsungi horn players?”

Katara laughed. “I can tell him not to!” she pointed out. “You don’t need to be worried for me, I’m sure we’ll have a fine time—”

“Wanna bet?”

Katara stared at him. “Do I want to…make a bet about whether I’ll enjoy myself on a date?”

“Um,” said Zuko, shifting in his seat so that the chair squeaked. The panic on his face did not match the regality of his formal robes. “No, that was uncalled for, sorry,” he said. “I—I—”

And as Zuko stuttered, and Katara stared at Zuko’s rapidly reddening cheeks, she came to an unlikely—but perhaps possible?—conclusion.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She had to fight the urge to clap a hand to her mouth in horror. And if Zuko had looked skeptical whatsoever, she would have curled in on herself and scurried out the door like a goat dog with its tail between its legs. And then possibly quit her job and moved to the Foggy Swamp.

But Zuko didn’t look skeptical. Zuko did not calmly and coolly reject her suggestion. Instead, he noisily backed up his chair, stood, buried his hands in his hair, and yelped, “Me?! Jealous?! No—no, definitely not!” And then he laughed like an unhinged hyena leopard.

“I—” Katara started, over what sounded like the beginnings of a panic attack. “I—um,” she said, reminding herself that she was a waterbending master and teacher to the Avatar and she was not scared of anything—“I won’t go with him. If you—um—if you don’t want me to,” she said, knowing that her tone had drastically changed from teasing to serious.

Zuko’s laughter died down and he matched her serious expression. “Katara, no—I would never try to insert myself in your personal life—I’m sorry, I just got, um—” he paused, but didn’t finish his sentence.

“Can I take your bet then?”

“What?”

“But for the other side. I bet you I won’t have a nice time with Tanriq.”

“I—look—I was being childish—of course you’ll have a nice time—”

“Maybe,” she said, and Zuko’s face fell for the briefest moment before he schooled it to one of impassive regard once more. “But I think I’ll have a nicer time with someone who knows me better, like you said.”

Zuko looked away from her and stretched his arm behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I think you should go with whoever you want to go with,” he muttered.

Katara wanted to scream. But…she did want this more than she wanted to scream. “You,” she said, only a smidge of frustration in her voice. “I’d rather go with you.”

Zuko’s eyes snapped to hers. “Oh? Is that—is that—is that right?”

“If, um, if you want to,” she murmured, suddenly feeling her mortification rise. What if she’d gauged this wrong? She did get along with Hu in the Foggy Swamp. She could totally start a new life there.

“Yes,” Zuko said immediately. “I mean—yes. I do want.” His eyes were boring into hers.

“Um, great,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “So…I’ll tell Tanriq nevermind…and you’ll just need to tell your guards—”

“No,” Zuko said, leaning forward now, and Katara felt her blood thrill. “Many of the festival goers will wear masks. We can too.

“Really? But I don’t have a mask—"

“Don’t worry, I have an idea for us.”

#atla #zutara #drabble #zutara fanfiction #ask game #a twofer for one of my favorite moots!#TY FOR THE PROMPTS <3 <3 <3 #this one was fun to think up #ok they all have been #SORRY IT'S SO LONG #it's officially not a drabble #whoops

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pippytmi · 1 year

Note

For the fake dating thing 11 with whomever you want!

“Do you always get into fist fights on first dates, or am I just lucky?”

There is a bruise already forming on Kara’s jaw, and her hand still has a phantom ache that won’t go away. There might be a touch of blood on the lapel of her shirt, too, but she has been unable to confirm without ready access to a mirror. But it’s this—the firm click of silver six-inch heels against pavement announcing Lena’s arrival—that brings Kara an instant sense of uneasiness.

“It’s kind of in the job description,” Kara shrugs off the rhetorical question. “You know, of being a girlfriend.”

Lena Luthor has an uncanny ability to make Kara feel completely, totally inept in any situation just with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow and a ruby-red lipsticked frown. Not because she deliberately tries to, but because that’s just the Luthor™ way. Every member of that family seems to have mastered the ability to stare hard enough to make anyone squirm. Even though Kara has known Lena since they were kids—even though they know each other better than anyone else in the world—the effect is the same.

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve said all night.” Despite her stoic expression, Lena’s voice is surprisingly soft. “You should have walked away.”

“That would have been worse than not punching Mike Matthews, I think,” Kara says. “Really, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m supposed to defend your honor, or… whatever the saying is.”

And the strangest thing happens; a glimpse of amusement cracks through Lena’s frown, visible in the ever-so-gentle upturn of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, did I miss the part where we time traveled a hundred years ago?”

“It’s—you know what I mean,” Kara says. “If I was your real girlfriend everyone would expect me to punch guys in the face for you.”

“Or,” Lena counters, “it might be overkill, since everyone knows you are not inherently a violent person.”

Kara sheepishly tugs at her collar, unable to stop herself from flushing when Lena gazes at her so pointedly. “Does it matter if everyone who meets Mike wants to punch him? Because I’m pretty sure he could make a nun violent.”

“Wow,” Lena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a mean thing about anyone before this.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara grimaces. “Mike Matthews brings it out of me. Or maybe this stuffy party does.” Her hand unconsciously goes back to her jacket, and she has to shrug it off all at once, suddenly feeling constricted in her suit. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Lena must be far more uncomfortable than Kara is, with those high heels and the skintight dress and the overall burden of familial expectations hanging on her shoulders, but she masks it remarkably well. “Practice,” she says—sighs. “And whiskey.”

“Gross,” Kara says, unconsciously crinkling her nose as she works at undoing her tie next. “I’m more of a Capri Sun girl myself.”

A short, stunned laugh emerges before Lena can likely quell it. “Right, how could I forget,” she says, and tilts her head in that curious way she does whenever she has a question she isn’t sure how to ask. But it must pass, because her actual question comes out in the form of: “Is there a reason you’re stripping in full view of the paparazzi?��

“Fan service?” It’s a weak joke, but it makes Lena roll her eyes in that mock-exasperated way that Kara knows would be a laugh out of anyone else. “I just need to cool off, maybe. Then I promise, I’ll be your doting girlfriend for all the cameras again.” She allows a beat before she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, “Without any violence.”

“Yes, I think my mother would very much prefer that.”

Kara laughs, remembering the horrified look on Lillian Luthor’s face with—admittedly—a bit of glee. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m sure she’s thrilled with how tonight is going.”

“Well, she does think it’s all part of a rebellious phase,” Lena muses. “She’s convinced I’m doing this just to spite her.”

Kara has felt the brunt of Lillian’s disapproval back since she first befriended Lena when they were kids, back when they were auditioning for the same movie. Honestly, there is no telling why Lillian has always disliked Kara. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a nepotism baby like all the rest of crowd, or maybe it was because Kara would sneak Lena out of the giant Luthor mansion to go to the movies, or maybe it was because when they were teenagers Kara had wrecked the Porsche (on a dare)...but that disdain has been steadfast ever since they were young, and it’s never once wavered. Everyone knows it. Lena knows it.

Which is why Kara is unable to keep the confusion out of her voice when she says, “Uh. Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I…what?” Lena repeats, lost.

“Pretending to date me to spite her?” Kara prompts. “You know. Since she hates me?”

Lena’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly. “I didn’t mean dating you,” she says. “I mean dating in general. She thinks it’s a distraction.” She absentmindedly picks at one of the sequins on her dress, a nervous tic that she has never been able to shake. “God, it’s getting cold out here.”

The temperature is just right for Kara, but Lena has always run cold; Kara’s poked fun at her for it once or twice (or for their entire childhood, but who’s keeping track). An unbidden smile, fonder than it has any right to be, inevitably forms. “Well sit down, so you can leech some of my body heat. Besides, you make me tired just looking at you in those heels.”

“Then I’ll be colder,” Lena objects, eyeing the stone of the fountain edge that Kara is currently sitting on. “No way.”

“You’re the most high maintenance fake girlfriend ever,” Kara feigns annoyance. “Here, then. Sit on my lap. And you can put my jacket over your legs.”

It’s hard to exactly tell with the dim lighting of the streetlights, but Lena—blushes? Maybe? And immediately shakes her head. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing,” Kara retorts. “I’ll keep stripping if you don’t sit down, Lena. Then your mother will really have a reason to hate me.”

“You are trying to create scandal everywhere you can tonight, aren’t you?” Lena says, but doesn’t move, only crosses her arms and gives Kara an exasperated look. “It would be a hell of a front page.”

“Wow, Lena, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” Kara says, undoing the first two buttons of her shirt while Lena continues to glare. Then, for fun, she continues up until she hits the top of her bra and Lena’s jaw fully drops in alarm.

“Oh my God, Kara, stop!”

But the ruse works, because as Lena moves forward as if she’s about to button Kara’s shirt back up (or just push her into the fountain), Kara is able to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and tug her down. Lena yelps in surprise, arms coming up to squeeze around Kara’s neck, and Kara has to hide a grin into the curls that hit her full force in the face.

“Geez, Lena, you’re like an ice cube. Don’t you own a sweater?”

“You asshole,” Lena says, but there is no bite in her voice, only annoyed defeat. “If I get glitter all over you, I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’ll let it slide, this once.” Kara doesn’t mention that there’s nothing in the world that she wouldn’t let Lena get away with. That’s the inevitable truth of being in love with this girl pretty much her whole life—Kara caves first, and she always has. Whether it was what flavor of Gatorade to get from the vending machine, or whether it was who got to sit down in the only remaining chair for a last minute casting call, or whether it was to tag along to Lena’s prom date so the boy wouldn’t try to kiss her, Kara always let Lena call the shots.

Lena exhales; Kara feels the warmth of Lena’s breath against her temple, feels the steady weight of Lena’s body as she shifts on Kara’s lap, feels the rough pattern of Lena’s dress sequins against her fingertips. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Lena says suddenly.

Those words always make Kara’s heart skip a beat, like they’re right back to being fifteen and nervously holding each other’s sweaty hands while poring over crumpled scripts. “I’d better be,” Kara quips, if only to keep her sappiness at bay, “or I’m returning the BFF necklaces I brought as our first-anniversary gift.”

“I’m serious,” Lena huffs, and her grip around Kara’s neck tightens just a hair. “Will you let me be serious?”

“Okay, okay. One hundred percent seriousness from here on out, I promise.”

For a moment, the only sound is that of cars passing, of the trickle from the water fountain, of the faint music coming from the party. And when Lena speaks at last, it’s quiet. “I know my mom’s not the…easiest person,” she says. “And if pretending to be my girlfriend is going to make you uncomfortable because you have to deal with her, you don’t have to do it.”

“I’ve been dealing with your mother forever, Lena,” Kara says lightly. “She hasn’t been able to scare me off yet, for as much as she’s tried.”

Lena scoffs, but her hand is unmistakably tender as she fiddles with Kara’s shirt collar. “What happened to being serious?”

“I am serious! Do you or do you not remember that time we went to the water park? I swear she cut a hole in my water tube slide. And let’s not even bring up the whole prom incident, because I swear my hip has never been the same since falling out of your window.”

“She didn’t even know that was you.” Lena laughs, and it’s still somewhat hesitant, but just affectionate enough to reflect her feelings about that memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kara inhales, shakily, both the sweet scent of Lena’s perfume and some much-needed air. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Lena presses her forehead into Kara’s jaw, her skin still cold enough that it makes Kara sympathetically squeeze her tighter. “Can you just promise to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable?” she asks, and ignores Kara’s question entirely. “Either with my mother, or…just the pretending part with me.”

“I feel plenty comfortable,” Kara tries, but Lena just reiterates,

“Promise me, Kara. I don't want to lose you.”

Something about the urgency in Lena's tone shifts the mood entirely; Kara swallows tightly and nods obligingly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to tell me, too, if anything becomes…I don't know, too much.”

“Fine,” Lena agrees readily.

“No, wait, but listen,” Kara presses. “Being friends is one thing, but dating is another, and—even if it's fake, we're going to have to do couple things. And I don't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I also don't want to ruin our friendship,” Lena says. “Which is why I brought it up first.”

“Good. Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Kara awkwardly shifts, all too aware that this might not be the ideal time and place for this conversation. Much less when Lena's still in her lap, clinging to Kara as if afraid to let go. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly have I messed up the friendship by fighting Mike?”

Lema hums, considering. “That depends on what he said about me.”

“Um, nothing nice,” Kara says haltingly. “I'd rather not repeat it.”

“Then I'll let it slide…this once.” Lena's hands find their way up to Kara's face, fingertips gentle against the bruise on her jaw. “But you are still an idiot.” She thumbs warmly against the apple of Kara's cheek and gazes at Kara from underneath thick mascaraed eyelashes, then whispers, “And you're my favorite.”

“Your favorite idiot?”

“My favorite person.” Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Kara is sitting on Lena's bedroom floor still tugging at her tux because it itches. Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Lena is biting her lip and unable to catch Kara’s eye. Suddenly they’re seventeen again, and Lena is whispering I wanted you to make sure he didn’t kiss me because I want you to be my first kiss.

Kara blinks, mouth opening and closing for a pause, before she has to fall back on a safe feeling—fall right back to humor, so Lena does not comment on the way Kara’s body automatically tenses. “Aw, Lena,” she manages, “that sounded a lot like you like me.”

“I’m just a good actress,” Lena says mock-haughtily, but her eyes are searching as they lock onto Kara’s, expression softening the way no one else ever really sees. To the world she’s always been some cold, aloof superstar, but to Kara she will always be the best friend who wanted her first kiss to be with the person she trusted most in the world.

“Well for the record,” Kara swallows thickly, “you’re my favorite, too.”

There is a split second—a charged, electric second—where Kara swears Lena is going to kiss her. Her eyes are hooded like they’re about to close, and her face sways closer, her hand still resting on Kara’s bruised jaw. But then she sighs, and Kara can feel the distance before she sees it.

“We should go back inside,” Lena says, abruptly stumbling off of Kara's lap. “Sooner or later we'll have to do damage control.”

It takes a beat for Kara to catch up. “Right,” she says, hastening to button up her shirt and follow. “It wouldn't be a Luthor party without damage control.”

“It's the first time you're the cause, though,” Lena throws over her shoulder. “And don't forget your tie!”

“Got it,” Kara calls, undoing her tie entirely and tossing it into the bushes. “Hey, wait up! Come back and hold my hand.”

That makes Lena freeze in place. “What?”

“For—you know, the cameras,” Kara says, shrugging her suit jacket back on. “So we can show a united front.”

Lena gives her an inscrutable look. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she says, but she allows Kara to catch up and intertwine their hands together without further complaint.

“How else is everyone supposed to know you're not mad at me?” Kara reminds her. “Or that I'm the best girlfriend you've ever had?”

“I doubt they're going to make that assumption based on hand holding.” But as they climb up the steps to rejoin the gala, the low, golden light illuminates that dimpled smile of Lena's that makes Kara breathless. “What makes you think you're the best, anyway?”

“Just a guess,” Kara says, squeezing Lena's hand as they reach the entrance. “Am I?”

“Let's see if you end tonight without any more fights first,” Lena quips, and while her voice is teasing, her smile grows exponentially tender. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Kara echoes quietly, and allows Lena to lead her right through those double doors knowing that she would follow Lena anywhere.

#prompt was: 'aw that sounded a lot like you like me / im just a good actor'#i rewrote this a million times and finally settled on a childhood friends + celebrity au :)#supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #i miss these two dramatic ''besties'' who just wanna kiss each other on the mouth #lyssa #as always ty for the prompt !! <3

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