#THREAT and a PROMISE anyway send prompts xoxo

[ongreenergrasses]

okay hear me out but for the first kiss prompts: Nicky/Booker + '' you kissed me first. '' '' i definitely didn't. ''

HEARD AND RECEIVED

It happens on a rainy day.

They’re watching football. It’s what they usually do when they’re bored and Booker is too lazy to engage in some sort of home improvement project in the safe house of the week. Nicky has politely joined him and Joe and is polishing his sword on the other end of the couch (he’s also bored out of his mind, Booker knows it) and Joe’s been sprawled on top of both of them, his head in Nicky’s lap and his feet in Booker’s. Booker half-assedly complained about it for about fifteen minutes, until the game got interesting, and then he could really complain, because Joe kicked him in the face out of excitement when Juventus scored.

Now Joe’s in the kitchen, banging around looking for food, and Nicky’s staring at him. Still polishing his sword.

You are so weird, Booker thinks. What actually comes out of his mouth is, “What are you staring at?” It sounds more accusatory than he means it to.

Nicky carefully sets the sword aside. Booker raises an eyebrow.

It happens so fast that Booker smashes his head into the arm of the couch. One second Nicky is still staring at him, so intently that Booker feels like a bug, and the next second he’s on top of him, giving Booker the worst kiss he’s ever had in his life. Their noses are pressed together, their teeth clacking. Booker reaches up with the intent to try and push him off, but ends up slinging an arm around his neck and tilting his head and things change after that, things go on a course from worst kiss in his life to one of the best.

Booker moves again to pull him closer, and then immediately realizes what he’s doing and shoves him off. Nicky just blinks at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

Nicky shrugs. “You kissed me first.”

Booker bursts out laughing. “I definitely didn’t.” He points at Nicky’s discarded sword. “You were all the way over there, and then you launched yourself at me - ”

“I did not launch myself at you - ”

“- and started kissing me for no reason at all - ”

“ - I had a very good reason, if you must know - ”

“And I - you what?” Booker stares at him. Nicky stares back, completely nonplussed. There’s no way anyone could tell what had happened, except for the way Nicky’s hair’s sticking up slightly in the back.

“I had a very good reason,” Nicky says, and then says nothing else.

Booker waits politely for what feels like five years, before he says “And?”

“And what?”

“Your reason?”

“Oh, that is for me to know.”

“You are so fucking weird,” Booker says, because he really can’t hold it back this time, and loops a hand around the back of Nicky’s neck to pull him down and kiss him again.

What the hell. He’ll roll with it.

first kiss prompts

[imagine-darksiders]

As promised, a continuation from my last post, because for some reason it won't let me post this with it :/ Samael and Watcher. Hope you like it xoxo

Samael: “Sam?!”

“Not. One. Word.”

Your hands fly up to try and hide the enamoured grin that erupts across your face when you spot Samael on his throne.

“Do not laugh at me!” the demon roars, which would have been menacing and might have even been enough to sober you, had it not come out at around 1/20th of its usual volume or if it the one shouting hadn't been around 4 inches tall.

“I’m n- haha, ahem...I’m not laughing,” you assure the tiny demonic prince as you approach him, kneeling down on the hot stone of his throne room as you near. He doesn't look entirely convinced, if anything, he looks downright furious.

“How on Earth did you get yourself into this mess?” you ask him with a sly grin. Samael sends you a heated glare and snorts, the word he utters sending a chill down your spine.

“Lilith,” he spits.

“Can she do that?” you ask incredulously while at the same time, reaching out a single finger to poke at the demon.

Samael snaps his teeth dangerously close to your skin as the hand nears and you jerk your limb back at the threat of tiny, sharp fangs. “Obviously, she can,” he sneers.

The diminutive demon stalks to the edge of the throne and you watch as he peers over the edge, seeming to judge the distance between himself and the hard ground below.

“You want a lift?” you ask with a smile, once again reaching out cautiously to hold your hand palm up before him. The demon only growls low in his throat, tail flicking back and forth in irritation. With a huff, he leapt from the seat of the throne onto your outstretched hand and began clawing his way up your arm. Wincing as his claws dig into your skin, you watch him carefully until he settles himself heavily on your shoulder.

“My my my, how the tables have turned,” you snicker, “I’m usually the one sitting up on your shoulder.”

You feel the being beside your ear rumble as he chuckles, “I wouldn't get too used to me being up here, Lilith’s....hmmm...tantrums tend not to last for long. Doubtless this will wear off before too long,” Samael’s clawed hand grips the lobe of your ear as you begin walking to his chambers, being mindful of the powerful but minuscule prince on your shoulder.

Samael quirks a brow at your slow, deliberate steps and gives your ear a sharp tug, “You're worried I might fall?” he asks teasingly, “Have you forgotten so quickly, that I am a lord of Hell?”

You shake your head slowly, “No, just.....conscious that you might not like to be jostled, that’s all,” you explain. He makes a sound of light surprise that you barely pick up on.

Wilful consideration from somebody is a concept he’s not entirely familiar with...

Upon reaching Samael’s bedchamber, you automatically reach up to grip the demon in a gentle fist, pulling him off your shoulder and holding him out in front of your eyes on a flat palm.

“I am not a toy, Y/n,” he grumpily reminds you as he rights himself in your hand, standing and glaring into one of your curious eyes with his own mix of fascination and inquisitiveness.

You both study each other for a long time, unspeaking.

Due to his gargantuan size, Samael never really noticed the tiny flecks of additional colour that dance across your iris, nor did he really appreciate the tantalising scent of your skin that threatens to overwhelm him now, standing so close to it.

You, on the other hand, are occupied with marvelling at the surreal sensation of holding a near omnipotent being in the very palm of your hand. In this form, he looks so damn delicate, but you know not to be fooled by the illusion of smallness.. Even at this size, you had little doubt that he was the one very much in control.

After a moment, you come back to yourself and shake your head to clear it of the lingering awe. Almost at the same time, Samael also appears to recollect himself and snorts gruffly.

“I think this is something I should really sleep off,” the lilliputian prince grumbles quietly. Nodding in agreement, you scale the stone steps that lead to his large, intricate bed and set Samael down timidly on the silken sheets.

“This is humiliating,” he growls as you heave yourself up onto the bed, “Lilith will be punished for this insult.”

You roll your eyes as he plots his revenge, knowing that the ‘punishment’ would likely be nowhere near as severe as he made out it would be.

“So, why did she shrink you anyway?” you ask casually.

You're surprised when you look down at him to find that Samael is averting his eyes rather purposefully. He mumbles to himself so you settle yourself down on your stomach until your face looms behind him, casting a shadow over the little Lord. Samael turns on his heel and stomps over to you with a frustrated sigh.

“It is.....entirely possible that I called her.........magical prowess into question,” he mutters crossly.

“Yikes,” you hiss through your teeth and chuckle at the sheer humiliation on the prince’s usually malevolent face. With a sigh, you flop back onto the sheets, missing the way the impact makes Samael bounce slightly in place.  He snarls half-heartedly when he realises that you're no longer paying attention to him, so he stalks over to your shirt and takes hold of the fabric with both hands, hauling himself up and onto your slowly rising and falling stomach.

You crack an eye open and glance down at Samael as he tries to walk regally up your stomach, but inevitably stumbles, huffs, then plops himself down heavily with a deep scowl. You shoot him a playful wink, earning yourself a devilish sneer.

“Guess there’s nothing to do except wait,” you mutter, letting your head fall back against the pillows. After a moment, you feel something make its way jaggedly up to your neck. You're tempted to look down at Samael, at least until you feel something nip sharply at your lower lip.

“Um, ouch?” you grumble, prompting the Prince to laugh loudly at you. Samael smirks at your pout and presses his tiny, rough hand against the even smaller wound he’d inflicted on your mouth.

“Apologies, dear,” he teases you with a sickly sweet voice, “I was curious.”

When you slept that night, Samael would deny that he studied every inch of your face, finding himself more and more enamoured by the sleeping human beneath him. You would wake in the morning to a regular sized Samael blowing warm breaths over your hair this time and running a clawed finger down your arm.

Watcher: “War! Look out, you almost squashed him!” you scold the heavy footed horseman as he sets his boot on the ground mere inches beside the tiny, writhing black wisp of smoke on the ground.

Hurriedly, you bend down and close your hands gently over it before lifting it slowly up to your face. War watches as you carefully open your hands slightly and peer through the gap between your fingers at the thing inside.

“It’s really him!” you breathe amazedly. War leans over to glare down at your hands and, indeed, there’s the Watcher, spitting and cursing, but safe in the palms of your hands. The horseman raises an eyebrow down at the dead Shadowcaster in the middle of the street. With a grunt, he beckons you to follow after him and mutters to stay close, choosing not to comment on the current state of his hitchhiker.

You trot behind the horseman obediently, all the while trying to soothe the distressed sprite in your hands. The Watcher took one look at your immense face as it suddenly appeared above him and instantly hissed, darting backwards into a solid wall of flesh.

“Hey, easy. It’s me,” you chirrup. The Watcher freezes upon the realisation that it is indeed, you.

“Y/n?” he gasps hesitantly, “What in the nine Hells happened to you!”

“What happened to you, more like!” you laugh softly,  scattering wisps of him into a flurry with your breath, “You got zapped buddy; Shadowcaster,” you clarify.

Meanwhile, in front, War narrows his eyes at your frustratingly boundless compassion that extends even to a creature so wretched as the Watcher.

Opening your hands delicately, you allow the Watcher the freedom to hover an inch or so above your laid out palms and take in his new surroundings. If a creature such as him could pale, you're sure he would have in that moment.

“Oh, no....” he mutters as he cranes his slender neck upwards to the city’s skyline, already immense now seemed as though it’s even larger than the large ranges of Hell’s own mountains.

Snapping his head forward, the Watcher barks to the Horseman, “War! Fix me!” Your large companion merely twitches his head to glance over his shoulder at the Watcher and snorts. The outraged, mini Watcher sputtered with rage, but you quickly hush him, promising that you’ll figure out how to get him big again. The sprite shoots you a skeptical glare, “What makes you think that you could help me, human?” he spits, “Or are you secretly well-versed in demon magics?”

You frown at the blatant sarcasm packed into the minute voice but you fix your eyes sternly on his, “I don't know anything about magic, but I want to help,” you chide him gently. If the Watcher had a response to that, he kept it to himself, instead settling into your cupped palm and staring at you with six, round eyes. Ignoring his puzzled expression, you cast your gaze up to the sky and grimace at the sight of Earth’s moon peeking its face over the top of an old skyscraper.

“War?” you call, but he’s already thumping his way over to an underground subway. Chivalrously, the horseman cleans out the whole station of any demons and nudges you towards a maintenance room off to the side of the tracks. You enter, Watcher still in hand and War close behind.

Placing your tiny handful on a metal shelf, you start to gather some materials from around the room and dump them into a pile in the centre, War helpfully ignites the cardboard and paper and you soon bask in the warmth of a cobbled together fire. With a deep sigh, you glance over to the Watcher, blinking when you notice that he’s still staring at you.

“Something on my face?” you grin over at him, startling the poor creature and causing him to smack into a toolbox behind him. “Oh, sorry!” you frown with concern, reaching out to him, “You okay?”

The Watcher aims a dirty glare up into your eyes and he seethes, “Why are you being so kind, human? What could you possibly have to gain from this?”

Setting your hands on either side of his wispy body, you begin to close them softly around him, “I’m not trying to gain anything,” you murmur, “I’m just trying to help.....” The Watcher stiffens, but allows you to gather him up in your hands and pull him close to your chest.

On the other side of the fire, War eyes the Watcher as you slide down the wall and sit comfortably against the cold concrete. The Horseman’s cold gaze meets the sprite’s and one looks nervous while the other gives a look that clearly states, ‘I’m watching you, don't try anything.’

The Watcher is pulled from his silent staring contest with the enormous horseman by the sensation of your forefinger tracing up and down his ebony spine. “Would you stop that,” he snaps, shrugging your finger off and glowering up at you, aggravated to find that you're just smiling down at him kindly.

“Sorry,” you whisper, lowering your hands until they rest comfortably in your lap. For a long while, there’s only silence in that room, save for the crackling of flames. You’d almost fallen asleep, exhausted from the day when you hear a tiny, almost inaudible,

“Thanks.”

Blinking your eyes open, you glance over at War to see if the horseman was trying to get your attention, but he simply stood by the door with his eyes staring intently into the flame. You frown in confusion, ‘surely not......’ you think, but still, you look down at the Watcher, who, despite being free to go where he pleased, had remained folded over in you palm, smoky tendrils floating down over the edge to give the impression of sitting. He shoots a quick look up over his shoulder at you to find you staring at him.

“Yes?” he hisses, “I said it, so what?”

A small smile twitches your lips and you bring the tiny creature up to your mouth. Ignoring him as he recoils in abject horror, you ghost your lips delicately over his wispy ‘hair’, causing the Watcher to clench his fists tightly.

“You're welcome buddy,” you murmur against his cool skin. You fell asleep that night, watched over by not only your colossal horseman, but also your newfound friend who, for some reason, didn't leave your hand. Not even when you awoke hours later and asked if he wanted to be put down.