#writing answered prompts
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Hii! I just started reading ur stuff and love it!❤️❤️
So if u dont mind can u do one where antonio wanders off with his animals and its up to mirabel and the rest of the family to find him?
Thanks!! Keep it up love these😍😍❤️
Hi, thank you so much! I appreciate that a lot! I'm sorry this took so long...I've had some writer's block but hopefully it's over now. Hope you like this!
Dinnertime in the Madrigal family tended to be a chaotic affair. With the various family members busy helping around town or running errands all day, it was a wonder they could eat together at all. But Alma insisted, and Julieta agreed, that they should try to eat together as a family. So, one way or another, they’d find their way back to their casita by dinnertime.
Usually, this involved some level of hunting people down. The Madrigals would rarely all be congregated at home by the time dinner rolled around, as their gifts and abilities were useful around town. Demand for them to use their gifts for others’ benefit had definitely lessened since they got their gifts back; the townspeople had learned how to take care of many things independently in the intervening months and were trying to keep it that way. But there were always new parents who needed rest and appreciated Camilo’s babysitting services for a stint. Or farmers needing some intervention when inclement weather struck. Or people with grave injuries in need of healing (Julieta and Isabela had taken it upon themselves to teach people some more basic healing techniques using plants and herbs after realizing just how burned out the two of them were). Or those stubborn donkeys that just kept getting out…
By the time Julieta announced dinner was ready, the kitchen was usually abuzz with inquiries as to people’s whereabouts and requests to get them back home, all overlapping in glorious cacophony.
“Dolores, go find your brother.”
“Where is he, mamá?”
“I’m not sure…last I heard he was helping señor Gonzalez who threw out his back fix his roof.”
“Wait, why wouldn’t Luisa help?”
“I think she was dealing with some other crisis at the time- where is Luisa anyway?”
“I’m right here, tía, what’s going on?”
“We’re looking for Camilo.”
“Well you found him!”
“Ay, Milo, that isn’t funny! You’re gonna give your poor mamá a heart attack!”
“Camilo, stop changing into your cousins.”
“Sorry, papá…”
“We still don’t know where Luisa is.”
“I’m right here, tía.”
“That’s not funny, Camilo.”
“I’m over here, mamá.”
“Ayyyy, who else is still missing?”
“Well, Antonio was helping me with the donkeys, is he back yet?”
“Antonio!”
Everyone stopped running abruptly, bumping into each other. Camilo winced, rubbing his forehead which had unfortunately hit Luisa’s side in the mayhem. Isabela picked up the shards of the plate she broke after colliding with Dolores. The latter mumbled an awkward apology, cradling her own elbow gingerly. Mirabel was off to the side, assessing the damage. Thankfully, the food had been spared, but otherwise the kitchen looked like a tornado had passed through it.
Judging by Pepa’s erratic breathing, this wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. She leaned against the counter, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white, and squeezed her eyes shut. A breeze batted around the loose tendrils of her hair as she tried desperately to calm herself.
“Antonio was helping you with the donkeys?” She repeated weakly, fanning her face with her hand.
Luisa nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It was his idea actually. He figured it would be easier to corral the donkeys if he talked to them rather than having me carry them around town.” She stretched her arm carefully, groaning after a point. “I ran into him after finishing up moving the bridge, again, and he could see my shoulder was hurting me, so he volunteered to take care of the donkeys himself.”
Julieta let out a soft gasp, covering her open mouth with her hand. “You got hurt, Lu? Why didn’t you say anything, querida?” Turning around, she rummaged around the basket by the door and fished out a buñuelo. “Here.” She held it out towards her daughter.
Luisa shrugged, accepting the proffered food and taking a bite. She gave her arm another tentative stretch, sighing in relief when she could actually stretch it all the way. “Thanks, mamá. I guess I didn’t think it was that bad? I figured I’d just take some of your food later, like I always do,” she added as an afterthought.
“Like you always-“ Julieta started incredulously, but was interrupted by Pepa holding up her hand.
“Luisa, I’m sorry you got hurt, and you shouldn’t be trying to hide it, but right now my son is missing.” She clapped her hands to emphasize her point. “Can we continue this conversation after we’ve found him?”
Julieta nodded her acquiescence, but her lips pressed together in a thin line. “We’ll talk about this later, Luisa,” she said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go find Antonio.”
Haphazardly, the Madrigals made their way outside and followed Luisa as she led them through town.
“Okay, last I saw him was by señor Martinez’s house, but he was heading towards the runaway donkeys, which were by the church,” Luisa narrated to herself, turning decisively to the right.
“It makes a lot more sense for Antonio to deal with them, seeing as he can just talk to them,” Mirabel commented. “Why did anyone even think it was a good idea to make you haul them around on your back when Antonio could just convince them to go home?”
“Because they are tontos who don’t think, just like they can’t fix that stupid gate once and for all so the donkeys stop getting out in the first place,” Pepa muttered under her breath darkly, nostrils flaring as she continued marching under her heavy cloud.
“Ay, Pepa, don’t speak like that,” Alma scolded halfheartedly. “We should be kind to our neighbors.”
“They can start by being kind and not sending my children on fool’s errands. Then I’ll reconsider striking their yards with a lightning bolt. Idiotas…” Pepa kept up a steady stream of curses and insults under her breath, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
“She has a point, mamá.” Julieta placed her hand on Alma’s shoulder gently. “That gate has been loose for ages and no one has bothered to fix it. Wouldn’t it be much easier to fix it once than to ask us to bring the donkeys back all the time?”
“The town has kind of been taking advantage of the Madrigal gifts now that they’re back,” Agustín pointed out quietly. “Running to the family for help anytime something goes even slightly wrong. I try not to, but even I go to Julieta more often than I should.” He looked down in shame.
“Shh, amor, it’s not your fault you’re so allergic to bees.” Julieta patted his cheek affectionately. “Or that you keep finding them.”
“They’re everywhere!”
“He is right though.” Félix spoke up. He held Pepa protectively in his arms as they walked. “How many times do people ask for Luisa’s help instead of trying to figure out another way? And how often would people beg Bruno for visions rather than just plan their lives? Or ask you to heal the smallest of injuries? I get that paper cuts can be annoying but they’re not so bad to need magical healing, ¿eh?” He raised his hands with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.
“I suppose you’re right…” Alma trailed off, frowning.
“And what about Isa, having to conjure up plants all the time?” Mirabel chimed in. “Or Camilo, pulling babysitting duty constantly? Dolores, always having to keep an ear out for news? And poor tía Pepa! Anytime the weather isn’t what people want, she’s expected to make it up. ‘Make it sunny, make it rain, we don’t care how, just make it happen!’” She imitated mockingly. “Is it any wonder she made a hurricane on her wedding day?”
“I’m about to make a hurricane right now if we don’t find Antonio soon,” Pepa threatened. “Luisa, he has to have brought the donkeys back by now. Why don’t we check back there?”
“Good idea, tía,” she responded, but exchanged an uneasy glance with her mother, eyes darting towards the lightning now lining Pepa’s cloud. Clearly the two agreed that it would not be a good idea to bring Pepa within striking distance of the donkeys’ enclosure.
By this point, night had begun to fall. Pepa’s anxiety became even more palpable; wringing her hands and breaking away from the group, walking briskly in front of them. She stopped abruptly, narrowly avoiding another multi-Madrigal collision. “Dolores. Can you try to hear where he is?”
Dolores furrowed her brow. “I can try. It’s noisy tonight though. I’ll need to focus.”
“Please, Lola.” Pepa begged, shaking her shoulder. “I realize we ask too much of you, of each other really, but this is important.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I just said it’s noisy.” Dolores closed her eyes and screwed up her face, concentrating. “I can make out his voice. It’s coming from that direction.” She pointed.
“By the river?” Alma sounded doubtful. “Why would he go there?” A shadow passed over her face.
Dolores shrugged. “It can be a nice place to go think.”
“You like to go there too?” Isabela asked her curiously.
Dolores nodded. “Wait, ‘too’? You go to the river?”
“I like to look at the plants. Ones I don’t have to create. They’re beautiful.”
“It’s calm and peaceful there,” Julieta said. “Away from the hustle and bustle of town…”
“No one telling you how to feel...”
“No one telling you what to do…”
“You can just…exist.” Mirabel exhaled.
Alma stared at all of them in turn. “Are you telling me all of you like to go to the river? And you never ran into each other?”
“I’d go when I didn’t hear anyone there,” Dolores explained.
“I preferred to go in the early mornings,” Julieta admitted.
“And I’d go late at night,” Pepa added.
“I’d go when people were too busy to notice I was gone.” Isabela shrugged.
“Me too, except it was easier for me. No one really cared if I was gone.”
A heavy silence hung after Mirabel’s admission.
“Mira…” Julieta brushed the hair out of her face. “You know that’s not true, right? Of course we care. Ay, after Casita fell, I almost died of worry.” She shuddered at the memory.
“I know, mamá.” Mirabel smiled at her reassuringly. “Things were different before though.”
“As much as I love this touching moment, can we go find Antonio now?” Pepa cut in, a frantic edge to her voice. “It’s dark, and he’s all by himself.” She started walking again, and the rest followed suit.
“Maybe not.” Dolores tilted her head towards the river. “Someone is with him. I hear him talking with Antonio.”
“Ay, Dios…” Pepa ground her teeth. “Mi pobrecito Antonio, out there all alone with no one to protect him.”
“From tío Bruno?” Dolores laughed. “That’s who’s with him, you know.”
“Wait.” Everyone did a double take. “He’s not with us?”
“How did we all miss that?” Agustín wondered.
“He wasn’t with us at home either,” Félix observed.
“I guess we’re not used to him being back yet?” Mirabel offered in explanation. “Since none of us noticed he wasn’t here?”
“He also liked to sneak off before he…” Alma cleared her throat. “Sometimes I thought his gift was invisibility, the way he’d just disappear.”
Pepa pressed on, undeterred. “Come on, guys. We’re almost there.”
“You heard the lady!” Félix waved his hand as he bounded over the hill and joined Pepa in running down to the riverbank.
Antonio was indeed there, with some very strange company. Bruno sat on the ground, cross-legged, and an assortment of creatures surrounded them. Half a dozen rats danced on what appeared to be a makeshift stage. A couple capybaras were chilling in the water. And, as always, Antonio’s jaguar, Parce, lounged lazily nearby.
“Antonio!” Pepa exclaimed, nearly tackling the child as she enveloped him in her arms.
“Mamá! What are you doing here?” Antonio asked curiously.
“Ay Toñito, we’ve been looking for you for so long! You missed dinner, and it’s dark out now.” She peppered his face with kisses aggressively, pulling away suddenly. “What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late,” Antonio defended, wiping his face off with his arm. “Tío Bruno and I came down here after I finished helping Luisa with the donkeys- which took like half an hour. Those donkeys sure are stubborn!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Anyway, I ran into tío Bruno who was coming down here and wanted me to join him.”
Pepa blinked slowly, eyes drifting from one to the other, trying to absorb all this information. “And the animals?” She asked weakly.
“They just follow me around wherever I go,” Antonio stated matter-of-factly. “Check it out, tío Bruno wrote a new play, and we’ve been rehearsing it together!”
“We?” Félix asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Me and the animals, of course. Well, I’m mostly helping tío Bruno direct, but I think the rats have a good grasp on their parts now.”
The older Madrigals stifled a laugh at his precociousness.
“That’s great, Antonio!” Mirabel smiled at him encouragingly.
“Do you guys want to see?” He looked up at them expectantly. Bruno swiveled around to join him as the rats continued tap dancing across the stage.
“We-“ Everyone looked around, unsure how to respond. Luckily, they were spared the trouble.
Camilo’s stomach gurgled loudly. “Antonio, hermanito, you aren’t the only one who missed dinner. We kind of all missed dinner looking for you.”
“Milo!” Pepa looked at him reproachfully.
“What? It’s true! I’m not supposed to say things that are true? Obviously we were gonna look for you if you’re missing, but we did all miss dinner.”
“He is right, tía.” Luisa spoke up, almost bashfully. “It’s way past dinnertime.”
“Maybe we should all head back and eat,” Julieta suggested. “Then you can show us the play once all our tummies are full.”
“Okay…” Antonio started walking reluctantly. “Come on, Parce.” He waved the jaguar over.
“Oh, he is not coming back with us,” Pepa proclaimed. “Absolutely not.”
“But mamááá, he doesn’t want to be away from me. He’s like my pet.”
“Some people have dogs. You have a jaguar.” Pepa shook her head, rubbing circles over her temples. “Fine,” she relented finally. “But he is not sitting with us at the table.”
“Of course not,” Antonio agreed.
Pepa blinked, not expecting this to be so easy. “Good,” she said firmly.
“He’s too big to fit anyway,” Antonio reasoned. “Now the capybaras…”
“No animals at the table!”
“Not even the toucan?”
“Antonio!”
#pepa madrigal#antonio madrigal#julieta madrigal#luisa madrigal#camilo madrigal#dolores madrigal#felix madrigal#mirabel madrigal#isabela madrigal#alma madrigal#agustin madrigal#bruno madrigal#madrigal family#encanto#asks#anonymous#writing answered prompts#writing encanto#foreveranevilregal writes#writing pepa madrigal#narrator voice: the capybaras were in fact at the table#kinda want to explore some of these dynamics more?#like camilo and luisa#middle kid bonding and all
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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!
For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.
It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.
But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly.
His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color.
He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.
And then it went nearly colorless.
Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating.
Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate.
Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.
A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever.
“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy.
Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents.
“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.
The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it.
Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence.
“Morning,” Duke offers.
“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”
“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”
“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”
Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”
“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”
Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”
“I’ll drive, too.”
“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”
Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”
“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”
“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”
Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”
Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door.
The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out.
The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once.
Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words.
“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”
“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”
“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”
The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left.
“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze.
It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.
Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.
He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo.
He gets the Vietnamese Plate.
Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.”
The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles.
Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”
“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”
As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”
She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen.
Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders.
Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.
But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.
The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that.
She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet.
As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day.
“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”
“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”
“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security.
He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction.
As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage.
Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”
“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office.
“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”
“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”
“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.
Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time.
Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives.
“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.
Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”
“Oh, yikes.”
“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”
“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.
He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed.
“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”
Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”
“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”
“What does this do?”
“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”
“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises.
Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”
She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye.
By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.
Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.
“Duke?”
It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest.
It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die.
This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it.
He won’t let anyone take it from him.
“Duke. Give that to me.”
He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary.
“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat.
Bruce reaches a hand out.
He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him.
“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.
“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”
“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”
Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.
Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.
Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away.
The orb in his hand moves.
Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.
It’s his soulmark.
Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it.
One moment, the orb was still.
The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap.
Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid.
“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot.
“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face.
“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.
“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke.
“Are you alright?”
Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”
Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises.
If anyone can, it’s Batman.
If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends.
Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.
#ghostlights#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#prompt fill#my writing#i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here#just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce#when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB#(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings#its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover#until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up#in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes#what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol#thanks for the prompt!
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Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷
Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3
Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.
But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.
He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.
"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.
He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.
"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.
"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.
"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.
"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.
"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.
"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.
"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?
"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.
"Yes Master."
-
You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.
When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.
Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.
"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.
"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.
"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.
You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.
Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.
Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.
"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.
He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.
"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.
You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.
None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?
You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.
"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."
You bow to him and leave.
And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#soft sukuna#ok hear me out#im not sure how well i did the “jealous” prompt justice#bc i just struggled to conceptualize how sukuna would even be jealous#when hes in control the way he is in this little universe#(which i write in by default bc i know it best as it lives rent free in my head)#sooo maybe the jealous part got lost along the way#and maybe this ended up exploring gift giving as sukunas love language further#but i hope you like it anyways!!!#also> i have no ideas how to use tumblr in other words line break and stuff like that is maths to me#im also not sure and welcome any input is it better to post writing directly in the answer to the ask#or should i post it separately and just add that it was requested by anon/other person
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all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.
Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈
But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.
"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."
His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.
"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"
He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."
Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.
"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.
"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.
He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.
"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.
You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.
He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.
Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.
He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.
It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.
#asks answered <3#becca writes spice#anon#needy!bucky#bucky barnes x reader smut#sub!bucky#bucky barnes smut#subby!bucky#this should technically belong to the shs series#but it fit this prompt too well so I'm using it here#I make the rules 😇#but that 'thank you' nearly killed me#I've noticed this week that my beige flag is that I get so frustrated when people make assumptions about my capacity#I hate when people say stuff like 'how's the new job? you must be really stressed'#or worse 'things must be getting on top of you'#like ???#why would you assume I can't handle what I put on my own plate?#I know people mean well but it really bothers me
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"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3
Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader
Words - 900ish
Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing
Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3
**
He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.
Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.
He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.
“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”
“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”
“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.
“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”
It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.
You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.
It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.
You needed him and he knew it.
You need him now and he knows it.
There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.
Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.
“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”
He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.
Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.
Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.
“Say it.” Jason demands.
Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.
“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”
“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”
Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.
“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.
“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”
“Uh–plea–please.”
“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”
**
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd smut#red hood x reader smut#red hood x reader#red hood smut#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#asks#answered#birthofvcnus#friends 💕#smut prompts#also hi my darling!!#i love you so much#im giving you one thousand million kisses <3#ella writes
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List of “I don’t want to be just friends with benefits anymore” prompts
Requested by: Anonymous
Request: “Hello!! I’ve been a huge fan of your prompts for a hot minute, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to make a list of “ending (or attempting to end) a friends with benefits situation with the person you’re in love with” prompts. I’d love to see what you do with it if you get to this 👀 Thank you!!!”
“I don’t wanna sleep around with you anymore. I’m tired of being just a body for you to fuck.”
“We’re practically a couple anyway so why can’t we just like… Upgrade to that instead of staying as fuckbuddies?”
“I’m trying to get out of the fuckzone here.”
“What’s stopping us from becoming more than this?”
“This isn’t what I had in mind,” Character A says, sighing as Character B nips lightly at their neck. “I wanted to talk about us, damn it.”
“I wasn’t going to get on my knees for you tonight.” “…Well, look at where we are.”
“How did me wanting to have a conversation about us end up with me naked in your bed?”
“The more I fuck around with you, the more my feelings for you are getting worse. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“I’m not here just for the sex. At least not anymore.”
“I’m emotionally attracted to you, as much as I am physically attracted to you. This is to say I don’t only love to fuck you, but I’m… I think I’m in love with you. And, fuck, I never said anything because I knew you’d give me that look.”
#'scuse me while i try a new format where i don't directly post the prompt list as an answer to the ask#number 3 is my fave i’m ngl lkenfklenw#angst prompts#dialogue prompts#writing prompts#prompts#otp prompts#friends with benefits prompts#request
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Vampire hero x flirty villain but it’s HEAT SEASON *disappears*
“Shit, you’re a mess.” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and tilted their head, clearly amused.
“Yeah, listen…” The hero took in a deep breath. It was worse when they spent time with the villain, it always got worse too. Usually, they would hook up with a stranger but that simply didn’t satisfy them anymore.
The hero didn’t know what was wrong with them, they’d been “alive” for long enough now, they had dealt with this several times and had never had any problems. However, that had changed. And the hero hated change.
“You’re not sick, are you?” The villain took a step towards them. Slowly, they came closer and closer.
“No…no, I’m fine, I…hey, let’s just fight, okay?”
“You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m not.”
“Honey, you’re looking at everything I have to offer except for my pretty face.” The villain was in front of them now and the hero tried to keep their eyes on the villain’s. “I’ve done a little bit of research on vampires. Either you’re starving or…”
The hero grabbed their hand.
“Don’t say it.”
The villain’s smirk widened.
“Why not?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” the villain said. Their fingers traced the hero’s jawline. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, darling. It’s only natural, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but…” the hero began. They couldn’t control their thoughts, couldn’t control the daydreams about what they’d do with the villain.
They used to think this was a good thing, a pleasurable thing. But it had turned into a curse, had turned into a bottomless pit.
Deep down, the hero feared they had fallen for the villain. They feared they couldn’t be satisfied without them.
“Honey…” the villain said. They were everything the hero wanted in a partner. Intelligent, protective, flirty. They’d known each other for a while now. “You can’t fight in a state like this. I’ll end up on top of you and we’d reach the same outcome.”
The hero squeezed their eyes shut, trying to ignore their criminal libido. They hadn’t even thought about their actions. It was as if their body had carried them through the streets and to the villain’s apartment.
“I can’t ask that of you, it’s not right.” The hero grabbed the villain’s shoulder in search for something to stabilise them. They could feel their pulse banging in their ears.
“But I was the one suggesting it.” The villain caught the shell of the hero’s ear with their teeth softly. They bit down but released them just as quickly when the hero let out a quiet moan. “And you came to me…”
The hero was quiet. They touched the villain’s neck and caressed it, losing themselves to the feeling of someone actually caring about them.
“I can’t always control myself,” the hero whispered. “The biting or sometimes scratching, I can’t—”
“Hmmm,” the villain hummed and the hero was surprised to see a satisfied smile glued to their face. “I’m into that. So, don’t hold back, got it?”
“Are you sure you—?”
“If you’re really desperate we can do it on my desk, right here,” the villain suggested. They pressed the hero’s hips against the table and the hero could only attempt to whisper the villain’s name when they pressed their knee between the hero’s thighs. “What do you think?”
The hero didn’t know if they wanted to bite or devour the villain. Probably both.
“Y-yes, here is totally fine.”
“What a good vampire you are, hm?” the villain whispered against their ear. Their hand crawled up the hero’s thigh, slowly, agonisingly. “Three taps if it’s too much for you. You choose a safe word.”
The hero nodded.
“What do you want in return? Money? Information?”
“In return,” the villain said, their fingers playing with the hero’s underwear, “I want you to beg for it.”
Thus their affair began.
#idk don’t ask me#writing snippet#heroxvillain prompt#heroxvillain snippet#heroes and villains#hero#villain#hero x villain#heroxvillain#an answer for an ask#request#suggestive#vampire hero#hero vampire#vampire x human
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Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts
Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it
Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways.
Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning.
This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket.
He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard.
Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front.
It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest.
He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back.
Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s.
He’s Buck’s.
He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it.
“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek.
Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror.
Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.
“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks.
“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—”
Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern.
It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head.
“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll.
“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?”
“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips.
“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away.
“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”
It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.
(now on ao3)
#911 on abc#bucktommy#kinley#kinkley#evan buckley#tommy kinard#answered#ficlets#my writing#anonymous#911 spoilers#please im actually dying of how soft this is#also i now headcanon that tommy owns a dog#and his name is hercules#and hes an elderly greyhound who used to be a racing dog#thats just what it is now#thanks so much for sending me this prompt 🥺#also these keep getting so much longer lmao#the feelings are just too intense now#long post
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Prompt: Because the Infinite Realms exists outside of time and space, the Ghost King summoning ritual is akin to pulling a random draw on a Gacha Game. The stronger the king, the rarer the summon.
Danny is the strongest :)
I refreshed my ask box and hoo boy there are a lot more asks than I was expecting lol Thank you for the prompt!
-
“So wait, you’ve never been Summoned? Not even once?” Tim looked up from the case he’d been working on, blinking in surprise behind his mask towards where Phantom was lounging lazily several feet above the floor.
“Nope.” Phantom said, popping the P as he shifted around in mid air, long tendril leaving a familiar mildly headache inducing after image behind him as he did.
Tim’s brow furrowed. “No offense, but you’re not exactly the most secretive member of the League. How have you managed to avoid any cults getting a hold of your name to try and do a summoning ritual to capture you?”
Phantom’s grin widened, long fangs glinting against pale blue tinged skin. “I haven’t.”
Across the room, Constantine went very still. Tim slid his gaze back towards the monitor before him, glancing towards the file he’d been reviewing for the case. Zantanna’s report on how summoning worked within the Infinite Realm. How power affected the odds of being able to successfully summon an entity. Odds for most beings from Phantom’s native realm were about 50/50 on a Summoning Ritual working to pull the being to them. Those odds got significantly less favorable for the summoners the stronger the entity got.
But the entity always knew when a summoning was being performed.
“Phantom.” Tim said, slowly, turning back to the grinning ghostly hero. “How many times have people tried to summon you?”
The ghost hmmed, “No idea. If we’re talking just today? …actually still no clue.” Phantom tilted his head, considering. “But since we started talking there’s been at least a thousand or so. It’s slowed down a bit over the last few minutes. Kinda nice.”
Constantine swore a blue streak impressive enough to put Jason to shame and stood, leaving the room in a haze of cigarette smoke and exasperated mutterings of I do not get paid bloody enough for this shit and honestly? Tim thinks he has a point.
Phantom smiles again.
Well, Tim considers, at least they won’t have to worry about him getting yanked in the middle of a battle.
#spaced asks and ace answers#dp x dc writing prompt#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom#danny fenton#tim drake#john constantine#ghost king danny#it isn't said but its a fact lol#John had a eureka moment on just what exactly Danny's deal is and would like to be literally anywhere else now thanks lol
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OC Askbox Game
I'm avoiding writing and you probably are too, so let's at least think about our characters while we do it.
You know the drill- send me a number (ONE number, you can come back for more) and I'll answer for an OC of your choice (if you know their name) or my choice (if you don't know their name). Feel free to name some of your OCs in the tags of your reblog, if you want to be asked about them.
How did you choose their name?
Were they created for the story, or was the story created for them?
Do they have a love interest, and was that their choice or yours?
Do they have a best friend? If so, how did they meet? If not, have they ever/why never?
Did they have a pet as a child?
What catalyzed their introduction to the plot?
What attribute of them (some facet of their personality, their history, their look, or whatever etc) would you find most important to somehow preserve if they were transplanted to an AU fanfic?
If your character's financial situation were to suddenly flip (someone poor becoming rich, someone rich becoming poor, etc), how well would they handle it? What would be the first thing they would do?
If your character could have handed their role in the plot to someone else, would they have?
Free Space #1: Which of your OCs would be most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse? Which would die immediately?
Does your character have a pet peeve?
Has your character committed any crimes (per their universe's laws)? If not, which crime would your character most likely commit?
Who is your character's closest (by relation, fondness, or distance) blood relative?
How does your character feel about riding horses (or your world's closest approximation of a horse if it lacks horses)?
Is your character's first instinct fight or flight? Is there something that could force them to do the opposite?
What is your character's favorite leisure activity?
Is your character holding any grudges? Are they likely to stop?
If your character were trapped on a deserted island, what three things would they want to have with them? Which person would they absolutely hate to be trapped there with? Which person would they enjoy being trapped there with?
Does your character having any health issues, whether they're aware of them or not?
Free Space #2: Which of your OCs would you most like to meet in person, if they could become real (or you could visit them) for a day?
Final Question: Ask me your own question about my OC
Remember: play nice! Send an ask to the person you reblogged this from, and try to send a few to folks that reblog from you!
#Writing#writing games#askbox games#fic prompts#as for me I'll name a few of my OCs but feel free to ask for others if you know them#From Flight's End: Sark'an Kedreeva Cazaes Malik Aislynn Valiss Kalstralev Khelios Alyria Ciara Damalis#From The Final Pack: Osker Steve Dalton Charlie Jasper Penny Scarlet Abigail Marcus#From Korvhan's story: Korvhan Rouchelle Davis Marie#I've seen so many of these but most of them are fairly generic#I want weird answers to weird questions#Maybe I'll make another one if this one goes over well#I have a lot of weird questions
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Basic trope I really want to see😌:
Pepa and Felix just started dating or aren't dating yet, and there's a situation where they have no choice but share the same bed
If you can make it rather super fluff or suggestive but not smut
I'm back! Sorry this took so long, I just really wanted to get the idea right. Enjoy!
“Thank you so much for taking us in, doña Alma,” Félix’s mother gushed as the other woman opened the door to let them in.
“Claro, I am always happy to help, Antonia.” Alma stepped aside to allow the family to enter. “As long as we’re here, no one in our encanto will go unhelped.”
Antonia gave a grateful nod before fixing her youngest with a stern glare. “Of course, we wouldn’t need the help if someone hadn’t used the stove by himself when he knows he’s not supposed to.”
Her pronouncement was met with murmurs from the Madrigal triplets. Julieta let out a soft “Oh, Felipe…”
Felipe turned around guiltily; the edges of his mouth crusted over with crumbs. “Lo siento, mamá,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food. “I was just hungry and thought I could do it myself.”
“You know you shouldn’t touch the stove, it’s dangerous,” his mamá reminded him, though she didn’t sound angry. “I don’t care how hungry you are.”
His tummy grumbled. “Mamá, I’m hungry again.”
Julieta observed the exchange with a sympathetic smile. “Come on, Felipe, I’ll get you some food.” She put a hand on his shoulder and ushered him towards the kitchen.
“Muchas gracias, Julieta.” Antonia offered her a grateful smile. She turned to Alma. “It’ll take at least a week to rebuild the parts that burned down. Are you sure you can have us stay with you for that long?”
“Absolutely.” Alma waved the question aside as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world. “There is plenty of room in our home. And none of us mind. Right?” She faced her children.
“We’re always happy to see the Castillos,” Julieta said, having returned from the kitchen with a content Felipe, who was munching on some arepas.
Pepa and Bruno fervently nodded their agreement, the former giving Félix’s hand an affectionate squeeze.
“I think Pepa is happier to see one of them more than the rest,” Bruno whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Julieta, just loud enough for Pepa to hear.
Julieta flashed him a warning look through the fog that had suddenly enveloped them. “Don’t, Bruno.”
He offered an apologetic shrug to Pepa and Félix, both of whose cheeks heated with embarrassment.
Alma watched the situation unfold in front of her. “Which brings me to sleeping arrangements.” She clasped her hands in front of herself. “Félix, you can sleep in Bruno’s room,” she decided, preempting any argument. “Bruno will, of course, be happy to share with you.”
Bruno appeared doubtful at the pronouncement. “Of course, mamá.” He clapped a hand on Félix’s back. “Guess we’re bunking together. Come on, let’s get your stuff put away.”
Pepa also seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of having Félix whisked away but made no attempt to argue. Reluctantly, she dropped his hand from her own and allowed him to walk away with Bruno.
“Now the rest of the children…” Alma pursed her lips in thought. “Unfortunately, Bruno doesn’t do too well with lots of people around, so you’ll have to sleep elsewhere. Julieta will provide you with some cots. There is plenty of room for everyone in this house.” She swept her hand around the empty space to illustrate her point.
“We’ll figure something out,” Julieta promised, frowning slightly as she surveyed the remaining members of the Castillo family still standing in the hallway. “Casita hasn’t let us down yet.” She helped the family gather their belongings and led them upstairs.
Only Alma and Pepa were left in the hallway now. Pepa played with the edges of her hair anxiously. Leave it to Bruno to embarrass her in front of both their mother and Félix’s entire family. Their relationship was still so new, and they didn’t need unnecessary attention drawn to it.
They stood together, the awkward silence permeating the air around them. Alma studied Pepa, tilting her head to one side gently. Meanwhile, Pepa wondered what to say. Should she even say anything? Sure, it was nice of her mamá to offer to house the displaced Castillos for the time being, but was it her place to say something? Would it come off weird? Her fingers snagged on errant tangles in her unruly hair as she pondered what to do.
Finally, Alma rendered her dilemma a moot point, declaring that she should get back to work and leaving the implication that Pepa should do the same unstated. On her way out, she placed a hand on Pepa’s shoulder, facing her. “The Castillos are a good family.” She cleared her throat. “Félix, he’s a good boy, from a good family.” A slight smile curled the corners of her lips. “You chose well.”
Before Pepa could even process her words, Alma was gone. Did her mother finally approve of one of her decisions? She’d heard an earful about her previous romantic partners (though she’d presented most of them as good friends…). But she had nothing but good things to say about Félix.
What was that comment about him being from a good family though? Was that her roundabout way of warning Pepa not to sneak in to see him during the night? Well, Pepa wasn’t going to do that anyway. She valued her life, and she didn’t put it past Casita (or her siblings, for that matter) to rat her out.
No, Pepa would be good. There you go, mamá, she thought. A good girl from a good family. Of course, she’d rather fall asleep in Félix’s arms. He was so comforting and warm, driving all her worries away instantly and lulling her to sleep. Not that it happened a lot. There was that one night when they’d accidentally fallen asleep together in the meadow, but it was only once. Julieta had covered for her, but it wasn’t like they��d even done anything. Okay, she wouldn’t exactly want to tell her mother everything that happened, but she could honestly say that they didn’t do anything bad (according to her mother’s definition, anyway. She didn’t think it was bad, but she wasn’t about to provoke her mother’s wrath).
Sighing, she swatted at the fog that had collected around her and went to distract herself by keeping busy. The less she thought about Félix sleeping under the same roof as her, the easier this would be to bear.
~ ~ ~
“Are you sure about this?” Félix sounded uncharacteristically nervous.
“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.” Bruno arched an eyebrow skeptically.
“No, no, I haven’t!” Félix reassured him. “But what if it doesn’t work? Your mamá can be…scary.” He shuddered.
“It’ll work. Trust me.” Bruno fiddled with the door, turning a variety of knobs shaped like hourglasses. “Just gotta…” His tongue wedged between his teeth in concentration as he finally positioned the last one and the heavy door swung open. “Tada!” He proclaimed, stepping aside to allow Félix in.
Félix stepped inside, taking it all in. “It’s gotten bigger since the last time I was here,” he observed. Frowning, he tapped the side of his sandal against a nearby rock to knock off the sand.
“Yeah, people are asking for bigger visions, so I need more space,” Bruno explained, mirroring his action. “You get used to it.” He tilted his head towards the now sandy rock.
“Ah.” Félix sounded unconvinced. “So…do I just wait for your signal or?”
Bruno smacked his forehead. “Lo siento, hombre, thought I explained the plan to you already. We’re just going to wait a while until it’s time for bed and then,” he took a dramatic breath, “the show begins.”
Félix must have still appeared hesitant because Bruno clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s all going to be good,” he promised, sounding uncharacteristically confident. “I think you need a distraction.”
“A distraction would be good,” Félix agreed, dropping his bag on the ground.
“Wonderful.” Bruno clapped his hands then started scrounging around in a small dresser, pulling out a notebook with a triumphant flourish. “Because I just finished writing my play and I’ve been looking for an audience.”
“Audience?” Félix looked around the cavernous space, perplexed, before realizing Bruno must have meant him. “Oh…” He recovered quickly. “But if I’m in the audience, who’s going to act it out with you?”
Bruno laughed. “I won’t be acting, hermano. I am the director.” He panned his hands in front of his face dreamily. “No, no. I’ve been training my rats and I think they finally got their parts down.”
“Your…” Félix shook his head in disbelief then shrugged. Looking around for a place to sit, he settled down on a relatively sand-free patch of ground. “I have to see this.”
“Okay.” Bruno pulled the curtain away from a flat rock masquerading as a makeshift stage. “We start off in a small village, deep in the Colombian jungle…”
Sooner than Félix expected, he found himself clapping enthusiastically as the curtain fell. Bruno’s play had certainly been engrossing: dramatic and suspenseful and twisty, winding around like the river that surrounded their town. His eyes were wide as saucers as he’d watched the story unfold; decades of love and betrayal and a family that could never learn from its mistakes. “Bruno, that was amazing.”
“You really think so?” Bruno scooped up the rats scurrying around the stage and deposited them on the ground off to the side. “I’ve been working on it a while.”
“Kept my attention, and I don’t even like stories like that.” Félix snorted. “Still can’t believe almost everyone died. Where do you come up with this stuff?”
Bruno shrugged. “A little from here, a little from there.” He mimed plucking fruit out of the air. “Inspiration is everywhere.”
Félix just laughed in response.
Suddenly, Bruno shushed him, ear tilting towards the door.
“Did you just shush-“
“Shh!” Bruno waved his hands around emphatically. “I’m trying to listen.”
Félix concentrated his attention on the door. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly!” Bruno exclaimed. He walked to the door, pressing his ear to the crack just to be sure. “Now’s our chance!”
He led Félix to the door, tossing his bag at him as an afterthought. “All you gotta do is go down these steps, down the hall, take a right, and- well, you know what Pepa’s door looks like.”
Félix chuckled. “That I do. But what if I run into someone?”
Bruno screwed up his features in thought. “Just say I kicked you out because,” he tapped his chin, “I freaked out or something.” He nodded in approval of his own improvisation.
“Say that you kicked me out?” Félix repeated doubtfully.
Bruno tilted his head self-effacingly. “I do weird things all the time.” At the sight of Félix opening his mouth, he held his hand to quell his protests. “Nah, it’s okay, I know I do. Trust me, no one will question it. People have learned better. Just say it had something to do with my visions and no one will dare say anything.”
Félix considered this. “Wait, so do you lie about visions to get out of doing stuff all the time or?”
The rest of his question was cut off by Bruno shoving him out of the room roughly. “I’ve said too much. Now go.” He sent Félix off with a small smile and waggle of his fingers, then swiftly disappeared back into his room.
“Thanks for the help, hombre.” Félix sighed. “Okay. Just gotta make it down to Pepa’s room…”
He got halfway down the hall before running into Alma. “Doña Alma!” He exclaimed, voice squeaking at the end.
“Félix?” She frowned. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Bruno?”
“Ah, yeah, he, uh, had some kind of vision and said he needed the full space to himself?” Even to Félix, the excuse sounded ridiculous, but Alma merely nodded.
“Claro. Mi pobrecito, he always gets visions at the most inconvenient times, and it’s not like he can just turn them off. But maybe it’s over now. Let’s go check and see.” Alma took him by the arm and began walking him back the way he came.
“¿Qué?” Félix’s eyes widened in horror. “We don’t want to interrupt him if it’s still going on,” he said pleadingly, hoping it was enough to deter the older woman’s quest.
“His visions don’t usually last very long. It should be over by now.” They’d reached his door. Alma rapped on the door sharply. “Bruno!” She called out.
There was no response. Instead, they heard scattered noises from inside.
Alma knocked on the door again, more urgently this time. “Brunito! ¿Estás bien?”
Finally, the door opened to reveal a somewhat winded Bruno. His ruana was disheveled and dusty, like he’d been rolling around in the sand. “Mamá!” He turned from one to the other. “Félix! What are you two doing here?”
Alma placed a hand on his shoulder lovingly. “Félix here told me you were having a vision and we wanted to check on you.”
Bruno rubbed his arm nervously. “Sorry for putting you out there, Félix. Ironically, you can’t predict when you have a vision, huh?” He let out an anxious chuckle. “I’m okay, just need my privacy. For some reason, I can’t see the visions as clearly when there are people around, and I did not want to interrupt this one.”
“Was it something bad? Bruno, you have to tell me…” She stared at him concernedly.
Suddenly, his body went rigid. His eyes were wide open, fixed on something in the distance, gaze unfocused. “It’s coming back.”
Alma and Félix took a step back. “What?”
“The vision! It’s coming back!” Bruno yelled. He began gesticulating wildly with his hands and muttering to himself.
Félix almost bought it, but he heard snippets of the play he’d just seen interspersed with the other ravings. He had to admit, Bruno’s commitment was phenomenal. Trying to act scared, he shuffled behind Alma. “Perhaps we should go, doña Alma,” he suggested timidly.
“I can’t hold it off! You have to leave!” Bruno almost knocked the lamp out of Alma’s hand with a particularly erratic wave.
Frightened, Alma ushered Félix away from the room. “Ay, he suffers so much. I hope he is okay.” Her eyebrows knitted together with worry. “I’ll check on him in the morning. But for now, we need to find you a new place to sleep.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Félix merely nodded.
Alma led him back down the hallway, stopping in front of Julieta’s room. “Her room is filled with extra beds and cots, because of her gift,” she explained, giving the door a couple taps. “She’ll be able to find one for you.”
Julieta opened the door, staring at the pair in shock. “Mamá! Félix! What’s going on?”
“Bruno had a vision, so Félix couldn’t stay with him.”
“Ah.” Julieta pursed her lips. “Is that what all that yelling was?”
Alma nodded. “I ran into Félix in the hallway. I suppose he was on his way down to ask you for a cot, but I figured I’d accompany him.” Her grip on his arm tightened ever so slightly.
“I see.” Julieta gulped. “Well, why don’t you come in, Félix? I’m sure we’ll find you a place to sleep.”
“Gracias, Julieta.” Félix stepped inside. Cots were strewn throughout the room, most of them occupied by his sleeping siblings. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”
Julieta busied herself looking through the supplies piled around. “I’m sure there’s an extra cot here somewhere.” She directed her words more towards the door than Félix standing next to her. “We’ll get you set up in no time.”
“Oh, Félix can take it with him,” Alma said unconcernedly. “The house is big; he’ll find a place to sleep. Besides, it wouldn’t be proper for him to be in here with you.”
Swallowing hard, Julieta nodded. “Of course, mamá. I’ll just give him what he needs and he’ll be on his way.” She struggled with an empty cot that was stuck between two other cots.
“Félix, you’re a strong young man; help Julieta with that cot.” Alma directed them.
“Lo siento.” Félix hefted the cot, smiling uneasily at Alma.
“Bueno.” Alma clapped her hands in satisfaction. “Sleep well. Buenas noches.”
“Buenas noches,” they wished, watching her silhouetted form shrink as she walked down the dark hallway.
As soon as they heard her door close, Félix dropped the cot with a thud. “That was close.”
“I’ll say.” Julieta chewed her lower lip. “This wasn’t the plan. What happened?”
“I was walking towards Pepa’s room when she intercepted me. She took me to check on Bruno and his ‘vision’,” Félix put up air quotes, “then dragged me here.”
“Ay, Bruno.” Julieta shook her head. “He could never pass up the chance to perform.”
“His performance was amazing.” Félix whistled. “I would’ve bought it if I didn’t know about the plan.”
“But you do and we’ve already deviated from it enough,” Julieta fretted. “The more time we spend talking about it, the more likely something else can go wrong. Leave the cot to me; get changed, wash up, and get over to Pepa’s room!” She thrust his rucksack into his arms.
“Thanks for helping me out, Juli,” he said as Julieta walked him to her door.
“Anytime, you guys are adorable, now go!”
For the second time that night, Félix found himself pushed out of a Madrigal triplet’s bedroom.
~ ~ ~
Pepa couldn’t fall asleep. Which wasn’t unusual; her racing thoughts often kept her awake late into the night. But she felt restless tonight. Félix was here, sleeping in the same house, and she hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodnight to him. He was probably fast asleep now, in Bruno’s cave room, while she tossed and turned all by herself.
A tiny noise came from the direction of the door. Pepa bolted right up. Was someone knocking on her door? Dragging herself out of bed, she went to check.
“Is someone out there?” She whispered, slowly turning the doorknob before anyone could answer. The door creaked open to reveal…
“Félix!” Pepa squealed giddily.
Indeed, he was standing in the hallway before her door, in his nightclothes. “Hola, Pepi.” He waved shyly.
Pepa glanced around from side to side, making sure no one was watching, before yanking him inside and crushing him in a hug. She shut the door behind herself. “It’s the middle of the night. What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course.” She let out a flirty laugh, tucking in a stand of hair behind her ear. “But weren’t you supposed to be sleeping in Bruno’s room? Or cave or whatever,” she added disgustedly.
“Hey, his room isn’t so bad,” Félix defended, sitting down on the bed. “But unfortunately, he had a vision and I couldn’t stay.”
“Tonight?” Pepa asked doubtfully, joining him on the bed and interlacing their fingers.
“Yeah, he said something about the visions being unpredictable.” Félix shrugged. “But he needed complete privacy, so he kicked me out.
“Okay…” Pepa’s eyes narrowed. “So how’d you end up here? Again, not complaining.” She squeezed his hand. “There’s no way mama would allow it!”
“Funny you should mention her.” Félix scooted closer to Pepa. “I ran into her on the way out of Bruno’s room. She took me to Julieta to get a cot.”
“And?”
“Well, obviously, Julieta searched very hard for a cot, but she just couldn’t find one.” Félix wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into himself.
“What? That’s ridiculous. She has like twenty extra cots in there.” Pepa scoffed, leaning her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
“They must have all disappeared, because the only place I could sleep tonight was in your room.” Félix kissed her forehead. “Hope you’re still not complaining.”
The truth finally dawned on her. “Never,” she promised him, making a mental note to thank her siblings when they were out of earshot of their mother. “Come on.” She got into her bed, leaving the covers open and making room for him to lie down. “Sorry the bed’s so small. I wasn’t expecting company.” She turned to face him, beaming.
“It’s perfect, because it has you in it.” Félix kissed her lips.
“Coqueto.” Pepa smacked his arm playfully. “Keep talking like that you’ll get us both in trouble.”
Félix seemed to be considering her point, but then decided, “I’d rather live to old age.”
“Are you sure?” Pepa quirked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like all of you agrees.”
“Stupid small bed,” Félix grumbled, shifting his body away from her. “I’m sorry, Pepa.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Pepa silenced him with a kiss. “I just wish we didn’t have to be so ‘proper’.” She put up air quotes mockingly.
“We’re in the same bed and we’re not married; doesn’t seem very proper to me,” Félix noted, pulling Pepa back into himself.
“You know what I mean,” she huffed. “But we can still do other things…” She hooked her leg over his enticingly. “Fun things...” She swung herself on top of him, straddling his hips.
“Oh?” Félix sounded intrigued. “Care to show me?”
Dawn came too soon for Pepa’s liking. It seemed like she had just fallen asleep when the sun was already out, shining its annoying light into her bedroom when she was trying to sleep. She yawned softly. They’d been up late, talking and kissing, and cuddling and kissing, and kissing, and kissing…
She touched her lips, awestruck. She couldn’t believe that this had actually happened. Félix had slept in her room, held her, kissed her, wrapped himself around her protectively as they finally drifted off to sleep late into the night. For once, Pepa slept through the entire night. No nightmares. No racing thoughts. Just her and the man that she loved, holding her in his arms.
She could get used to this, she mused, snuggling deeper into his embrace. He was still fast asleep. Yet even in his slumber, he held onto Pepa so tightly, like he wouldn’t let anything come between them.
Soon, he’d have to wake up and leave, before her mother would catch them and burst their peaceful little bubble. But not yet. It could wait a bit longer.
Cocooning herself in his arms, she let out a contented sigh. She wouldn’t mind waking up like this for the rest of her life.
#pepa madrigal#felix madrigal#julieta madrigal#bruno madrigal#alma madrigal#pepa x felix#felix x pepa#lilrobinbird#asks#writing answered prompts#writing encanto#writing feliepa#foreveranevilregal writes#why yes bruno is ripping off the same colombian literary masterpiece as in the movie#anyway i'm back guys#i'll write more things
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If you’re still taking prompts, how about Eda taking bets with the other Owl House parents on which kids will be proposing first?
"Willow," Darius said, like it should have been obvious. "Of course it'll be Willow."
"You're betting against our son?" Camila demanded, eyebrows raised.
"Yes," Darius said.
Alador nodded. "Yeah, my money's on Willow," he said.
Camila threw her hands up. "Am I the only one who has any faith in him!?" Camila vs Hunter's sort-of-dad and sort-of-step-dad; it wasn't a battle of wills that Eda expected, but it was one she enjoyed watching.
"I agree," Perry said. "I'd say Willow."
Raine looked contemplative. They hummed, tapping a rhythm on the table, but didn't offer a side yet.
"Actually, I side with Camila," Lilith said slowly. She looked like she was thinking hard. Weighing the pros and cons would be Eda's bet. "Hunter is shyer than Willow, but he loves her dearly and he's brave. He can be very determined. I can see him proposing."
Darius and Alador exchanged dubious glances. Camila smiled smugly.
"Well, what about Luz and Amity?" Raine asked, tapping their chin.
"Luz," Camila and Eda said.
"Amity," Lilith said.
"Honestly, considering their track record, I expect them both to propose on the same day," Alador said with a shrug. "Or they'll try to anyway. Hopefully without Hooty's involvement this time."
"Is something wrong with Hootsifer?" Lilith demanded.
"You don't want me to answer that."
"Okay," Darius cut in quickly. "What about Gus and Matt?"
Perry snorted. "They'll need to actually date first," he said. "And my hair will be entirely grey by the time those boys sort themselves out. They're both painfully oblivious."
"Are they still calling it a rivalry?" Camila asked sympathetically.
"Unfortunately," Perry sighed.
Alador snorted into his apple blood. Eda gave him and Darius her most shit-eating grin.
"Yeah," Darius sighed. "We'll all be waiting a while on those two."
#answers#asks#old hexsquad#hagsquad#aladarius#raeda#huntlow#lumity#gustholomule#prompts#the owl house#toh fanfic#my writing#snippets#eda clawthorne#camila noceda#lilith clawthorne#alador blight#darius deamonne#raine whispers#perry porter
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Would you be interested to do fanfic with Astarion getting a massage and maybe kisses ober his scars?
Scars
Tav gives Astarion a back massage. Thing is, Astarion isn't entirely used to giving up his back.
I sat on this for a long bit. Thank you for the prompt! 💗
Warnings: trauma mention, abuse mention, brief depiction of abuse
"I'm not so sure this is a good idea, love."
Astarion lay prone on his bedroll, his head tilted to the side. He's not looking at Tav necessarily, just in their general direction as sparks of anticipation jolt through his body. He eyes the bottle of oil within Tav's hands as they uncork the stopper.
"You don't always have to be the one giving, Astarion," Tav says as they pour the viscous fluid out into the palm of one hand. They place the bottle down onto the ground, reapplying the cork. "Sometimes it's nice just to take."
"Yes, but-"
"Do you want me to leave?" Tav interrupts, rubbing their palms together to warm the oil.
Astarion finally looks at Tav, furrowing his brow in doubt. "N-no, I don't. Just..." his voice trails off, gaze wandering to the flap of his tent. It ripples gently with the passing breeze. "Go easy over my back, please," he pleads. "It's... sensitive."
In more ways than one.
Tav nods, shifting closer to Astarion's form. "Of course," they agree, leaning over to plant a kiss on the back of his neck. Astarion shivers under them as their hands find the small of his back. "You let me know if it's too much, 'kay?"
With a sigh, Astarion nods, resting his face against the comforting fabric of his shirt. Tav starts slow, rubbing delicate circles into the dimples of his lower back with their thumbs. Their fingers hang over his hips, which, Astarion admits silently to himself, is oddly comforting. He imagines Tav holding him, guiding his hips to where they want him to be. Much more intimate than Astarion could have ever imagined. Pleasurable, even.
He's so used to being grabbed, pushed, and forced into positions. Hurried encounters with those who cared not for his pleasure, that it came secondary or not at all. Astarion keeps waiting for the moment where Tav hoists him up and slots him roughly against their crotch, waiting for the inevitable painful sting of being pried open without warning.
But it never comes.
Astarion can feel their crotch against the cleft of his arse, Tav straddling his hips for their own leverage, yet this position is unusually sensual. Tav's hands begin traveling up the sides of his torso and they lean further into him, pushing Astarion's hips further into the ground below him. The pressure of his center meeting the bedroll causes his arousal to stir, twitching softly to life as he haphazardly grinds his hips further into the deerskin below, chasing the sensation again and again.
Soft moans escape Astarion's lips as Tav kisses the midline of his back, applying light pressure to the muscles encircling his ribs as their hands glide over the delicate pale skin. "Is it okay if I touch them?" Tav asks quietly against his back.
His scars, they mean. They want to massage his scars.
Astarion's eyes focus again on the opening of his tent, flap blowing in the wind as another breeze blows past. When he closes his eyes, he imagines himself back in the kennels, lying on the cold stone floor beneath him in a similar position. Cazador is behind him, needle in hand, bringing the blade down hard into the vulnerable skin of his back. Astarion screams, or at least he remembers the feeling of screaming, as he relives the searing pain of his flesh being carved out. He claws at the stone floor as Cazador continues, voice failing him as the blade dances across his skin. Cazador chuckles darkly, telling Astarion revisions are to be made.
Astarion.
His head swims with nervous energy, though a small voice breaks through his concentration.
Astarion!
His eyes snap open, returning focus to his tent. Astarion becomes mildly aware of the hand over his mouth and he tries to control his labored breathing.
"Are you alright? You started screaming out of no where." Tav releases their hand from around his mouth and sits back. "Sorry, but I had to do something, lest the entire camp come running..." Tav sits back on his feet for a bit, silence passing over them both. "Did you want to stop?" they suggest. "It's okay if-"
"No, I'm fine," clarifies Astarion. "Sorry, dear. My mind was elsewhere for a moment."
"...Cazador?" Tav asks, quietly.
Astarion doesn't respond immediately. Moments pass before he slowly nods his head. He hears Tav sigh over his shoulder as they resume their place over the backs of his thighs.
"I have no sharp objects, aside from a nail or two," they say in reassurance. "All I'm trying to do is help you feel more at ease. I promise."
"I don't doubt that," Astarion admits. "This is just... different, for me." He gasps as he feels Tav's hands on his lower back again. "I... usually don't give people my back."
Their hands travel higher, and Tav feels the minute shakes of anticipation rumbling through Astarion's frame. Astarion sucks in a sharp breath and they move between his shoulder blades, tracing each indentation of the scars with their fingertips. They use the palms of their hands to place pressure on the muscles deep below, a soft moan of relief escaping Astarion as he eases into the touch.
"...I only want to make you feel good, Astarion," Tav coos above him, dragging their hands back up the length of his spine. They rub along the outlines of each scapula, digging their thumbs into hard knots of muscles. Tav circles them gently, huffing out a quick laugh as they feel the tension beginning to melt away from Astarion's frame.
His head is swimming in euphoric pleasure. His arousal has stirred back to life, but not due to lust. No, this is simply because his entire body feels good, so so good. Astarion feels himself loosening under Tav's ministrations. It dawns on him that he never gave thought to how tensely he held himself together. Another soft moan escapes his lips as Tav leans over again to kiss the back of his neck. The position pushes his half-hard cock further into the bedroll, his entire body instinctively curling upward, into Tav. He leans his head toward one side, granting them better access to his neck.
"Does it feel good?" they ask, littering chaste kissing along the side of Astarion's neck.
Astarion moans as Tav's hands run up and down the sides of his ribs again. "Y-yes," he gasps. "P-please continue."
The massage turns intimate again; Tav kissing down Astarion's back as their hands settle along his narrow hips. Astarion knows there won't be physical intimacy; he's not quite ready for that yet, but by the gods if this isn't close.
Tav works at his back for what feels like a tenday before finally sliding off. "How was that?" they ask, lightly brushing the backs of their fingers over his skin.
Astarion turns over, arousal flagging enough to not raise any uncomfortable suspicion. Though, could he blush, his face would be absolutely flushed. His eyes are heavy, his mouth hangs open. "Wonderful," he admits. "I would very much like to do that again."
Tav leans over and smiles, capturing Astarion's lips between his own. "Then again we shall."
#astarion#my writing#writing prompts#fanfiction#astarion fluff#trauma mention#abuse mention#abuse tw#answered#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x gn tav#astarion x reader#astarion x gn reader
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Jason doesn’t really remember the first time he saw Frosty, maybe it was when his mom started to take a turn for the worst or the Christmas he was first on the streets.
Frosty just been a constant in his life. He may not speak but it doesn’t mean Jason couldn’t listen.
If the winds whipped him to a building he would run.
If Frost pointed to a dumpster he would look.
And if the white haired boy looked sad when he floated around then it wasn’t like there was anyone else to give his hugs.
Jason loved Frosty. He trusted him in a way he couldn’t begin to describe.
So when Frost late one night grabbed his hand and showed him the Batmobile, he didn’t really hesitate.
#dp x dc#writing prompt#danny fenton#danny phantom#dc x dp#jason todd#batman#baby jason#Danny recently becoming the ghost of Gotham: who’s little baby is this?#Danny not even wait for an answer: my baby now#the only time Jason didn’t listen to Danny was when he ran away#lesson learned#*red hood doing his usual thing*#Danny following behind him invisible: aww look at my baby go! they grow up so fast!
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Do you have any prompts for older sibling whump?
Sure, here are a few!
Having nightmares about losing their younger sibling(s)
Trading themself to the enemy for the younger's freedom
Stressing/overworking themself to take care of the younger
Parent(s) favoring the younger and neglecting the older's needs
Younger Sibling shocked to see Older Sibling cry for the first time
Older Sibling weakly giving Younger instructions on first aid for them
Whumper blackmailing them by threatening their younger sibling(s)
Throwing themself in front of a blow that was meant for the younger
Younger trying to use the same comfort techniques Older always uses for them
"You told me you were okay! You lied to me! Why?" "I'm your big sibling. It's my job to be okay."
Sibling rivalry escalates too far. Now Younger's actually hurt Older Sibling and is scrambling to fix it
Whumper forcing Younger Sibling to torture the older, Older tries to keep a brave face and assure them they can take it
Younger pranking Older Sibling with something they fear and realizes it's too far when Older totally panics/breaks down
#whump#whump prompts#writing prompts#familial whump#nightmares#self sacrifice#stress#overworking#neglect#angst#favoritism#crying#blackmail#lying#rivalry#torture#pranks#prank gone wrong#breakdown#answered ask#anonymous
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WRITING PROMPTS? Ayo how kar'niss react to being called pretty? Sucks the only time you can compliment him he takes it wrong. Weeps.
Kar’niss lowered his body to the lush grass below, taking time to rest his weary legs from a long days travel. The evening had fallen on the green fields where they decided to make camp, Tav nearby working hard at getting a fire going. The moon had come to rise casting a silver-toned hue over the landscape, particularly over the resting drider. Tav took notice as this was a rare moment of quiet for the pair often on the go with little time to stop. They admired their companion allowing their gaze to wander over every unusual feature he possessed, appreciating even the most minuscule detail.
“You’re beautiful,” Tav said, their voice quiet.
At first Kar’niss didn’t register what had been said much less that it was directed at him. His head raised to acknowledge the other, his head tipped to the side in confusion.
“Who are you talking to?”
“You. We’ve not had many moments to speak on our travels. I’m just now able to take you in, all of you. You’re beautiful,” Tav reaffirmed, their eyes locking from a short distance away.
The drider jerked his torso back, his pedipalps rolled into a tight curl against his lower body. A repulsed snort pushed from his nostrils.
“Do not tease us. We—I am not what you claim.”
Tav dusted off their hands and rose from their crouched position, daring to wander toward the defensive creature nearby. They stood defiantly ahead of him, eye level with Kar’niss lowered as he was.
“I’m not teasing. I mean what I say.”
They reached toward him, the tips of their fingers brushed a few rogue strands of hair from his face in a tender pass. Kar’niss retreated from the touch using his long legs to back away from the gesture. Every experience in his life up to this point told him it was a trap, a way to force his guard down to inevitably be stabbed in the back. Tav saw how tense his body had become, the wariness oozing from every pore. Tav approached their nervous companion with soft, careful steps.
“I won’t hurt you. I know...you’ve been told that before and others betrayed your trust. It’s why I helped you, I couldn’t stand by and watch them abuse you any further.” Tav inched closer until they resumed their previous position in front of him.
Kar’niss’ gaze lingered on Tav with deep rooted skepticism. His legs shifted beneath him, nervously trotting in place until he eventually settled.
“W-We..We..I. I! I—don’t understand.”
Tav leaned in closer, a thin smile steadily stretched over their lips. “Then...allow me to explain,” they began. “Your eyes are a wonder, I feel safe knowing they are ever watchful.”
“No. Ugly, unnatural,” Kar’niss grumbled, his shoulders falling into a slump.
“Not ugly, not unnatural. I enjoy them, very much.” Tav lifted a hand to trace around the cluster of dark orbs on his forehead. They saw them blink out of sync which made them smile all the more. Kar’niss crossed his arms over his chest in a bid to self soothe still waiting for the worst to come.
“Your hair is soft and delicate. The moonlight does me a service by dancing upon each strand with such grace. My fingers can hardly resist getting lost in them.” They brushed the back of their hand along the wayward strands that kissed Kar’niss’ shoulder.
He shook his head, tipping his head back as if to spare Tav’s fingers the insult of touching him. “Ratty, thin, a disgrace,” he argued.
They would not be discouraged, knowing full well how much the Absolute had torn his confidence to shreds. “Your body, all of your body, is a marvel. Unique, strong, stunning.” Tav stepped closer, allowing their hips to nestle between Kar’niss’ pedipalps. A hand rested on one of the curled digits to coax it to wrap around their waist, their torsos melding sinfully close.
Kar’niss swallowed audibly and his breath hitched in his throat. “M-Monstrous, abomination, filth.”
His determined companion moved to cup the side of his face, their thumb caressing the rough patch of skin on his cheek. “Your lips, supple and firm. Scarred from a lifetime of torment.” Tav’s eyes fluttered closed, inching their body upward on their toe tips in order to reach.
Kar’niss had no time to process what was happening until it did. Their lips met, a white hot flash of emotion struck the drider quick as lightning. He felt a buzzing tingle that started in his cheeks and soon washed over his whole body like waves crashing over a rocky shore. Tav’s lips were tender, the kiss soft and gentle to allow Kar’niss to move at the pace he desired. At first his response was wooden as if too stunned to respond in kind, his head filling with so many thoughts at once he worried his skull would crack under pressure.
After the initial shock faded Kar’niss found his footing. His pedipalps hooked tighter around Tav’s waist to draw them in, his head craning downward to better meet them to response. At first his mouth’s reply was clumsy, timid, and his hands didn’t seem to know where to put themselves. He placed them on Tav’s shoulders to start and seemingly changed his mind mid-way through, relocating them to either side of their waist. Tav delicately encouraged Kar’niss to tilt his head for a better fit which he complied with easily enough, their hands roaming the length of his chest to feel out it’s shape and texture.
The longer the embrace continued the more Kar’niss’ confidence grew, his lips becoming more aggressive in their pursuit of savoring their taste. He could hear the frantic beat of his heart within his ears, his bulbous backside trembling with an excitement he’d not known in far too long. He was certain this was a dream or some hallucination concocted by his lingering psychosis. Yet Tav didn’t fade or disappear from sight, they remained in place. He could feel their warmth alluring and inviting like a blazing hearth in the dead of winter. He knew then and there he didn’t want to lose this exhilarating experience, he couldn’t imagine going without.
When the kiss broke both individuals had developed a hot blush that streaked across their faces, the sound of aroused panting shared between them. Tav bumped nose to nose with the dazed drider, a satisfied grin tugging at their lips.
“You are not a monster, not to me, not ever. You are Kar’niss and that is all that matters,” Tav whispered. They pressed their foreheads together mindful of his extra eyes, caressing the back of his neck.
Kar’niss had to fight the urge to object to such claims, his mind still saturated in doubt and self-hatred. But after an exchange such as that he did have to wonder...was there still hope for him? Could he have a future, a life, a chance at happiness that wasn’t afforded to him anywhere else?
He was starting to think so.
#baldur's gate 3#kar'niss#drider#bg3#karniss#baldurs gate 3#answered#my writing#prompts#kar'niss x tav#fanfic#bg3 fanfic#kar'niss fanfic#romantic#sfw#fluff
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