#TY FOR THE PROMPT <3

[ok-boomerang]

Ask Game: Zutara, #14

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

The flames poured around his face. He heard laughter, cries, and taunts in one ear; the other was silent but for the dull noise of pain. He tried to cry out but he couldn't make a sound, and then he tried to breathe but he couldn't do that either.

All he could do was wait to die.

And then, abruptly, the scene shifted and he was standing in front of his father's cell, and that same cruel laughter was filling both ears. He tried to turn away but it was as if his feet had melted to the floor. He could only stare at his father, defeated but laughing—

But then the image blurred, and Zuko felt like he was floating up and away, into the sky, into clear air, and though he wasn't near water, he felt as if he were swimming, because all around him was cool blue—

"Shh, it was only a dream," a voice said to him. Katara's voice.

"Just a dream," she said. "You're in bed, you're safe, you're with me."

Zuko blinked his eyes open and saw the shape of his wife crouched over him. Her hand was covered in water and she was easing it over his forehead, as if healing his racing mind.

Zuko felt her eyes shift to his as she realized he was awake.

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

[blackjackkent]

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Matty!"

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

"Ash...?" he whispers.

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

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

Commander Shepard is not dead. Matty is not gone.

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

[turning-the-kaleidoscope]

How about Terumob with an overjoyed hug?

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

~*~*~*~*~

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

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

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

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

Seven minutes later:

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

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

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

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

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

[Teru <3] !!! <3

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

"Teru!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shalalalalaw]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wispstalk]

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ghorza waits. “But?”

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

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

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

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

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

[deathfavor]

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

soft & sweet sentence starters

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

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

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

[srapsodia]

hey, may you'd like to try 59 with kageyama and yachi, since it's her birthday (september 4th) and their friendship is so so WAAAAAH?

59: one giving a piggy back ride to the other

YACHI DAYYYYYY! Happy birthday to the best girl!! 🧡

Plus a team photo cause she deserves the love!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

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

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

.........

Pomni

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gangle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks to you, she can finally feel joyful again!

Zooble

They'd rather do anything else....

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

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

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

She'd rather not get discombobulated again.

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

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

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

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

Kinger

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

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

Whatever momentarily stops his sanity from spiraling, I guess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that's enough for him

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

Ragatha

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

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

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

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

Still, she refuses to give up!

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

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

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

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

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

[notdysfunk]

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

[verocitea]

*insert a fun and witty autumn related caption here*

[purplepixel]

I'VE BEEN HOPING YOU'D REBLOG THIS EHEHE

Could you please do number six with the pbj duo, dear Pixel? >:}

“We’re gonna fix you up, brand new. I promise”

I couldve gone either way with this one. Of course after i finished i just thought of a really messed up version of this line with their rolls reversed. But you get post shredder angst instead :] Enjoy curly!! <3

Special thanks to @promptsbytaurie for the prompts!

[erwinsvow]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"shit, kid, jesus. fuck."

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

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

you beam from your position, smiling brightly.

"really? promise?"

[karkatbug]

gotta dress snazzy for morning chores

[zyphnn]

@codywanweek day 7: armour

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

[loviatarsluv-old]

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

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

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

Gale x AFAB f!tav / AFAB f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod fervently, your eyes full of desperation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it, that’s my girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gale, please, I’m—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

god I love gale so much

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @thedarkstrategist from this ask meme: [ 🛁 ] - running them a bath, Shadowzel.

-----

“She is in pain,” Lae’zel says, pacing back and forth before the bar on the Elfsong’s bottom floor. The ale Karlach purchased for her sits undrunk on the wood bartop; she seems to have forgotten its existence. “And it is a pain I do not know how to soothe,” she growls. “It is maddening.”

“Yeah,” Karlach says, watching Lae’zel’s quick, restless movements with an air of sympathy. “Fucking sucks, when someone you care about is hurting. And this kind of hurt… whoof.” She breathes out, rattling her lips heavily. “I lost my parents, back before the Hells, but at least they went… normally, y’know? Bad fever, overturned cart. Things like that happen to people. This, what she had to do… that’s a whole different ball game…”

“This is not helping,” Lae’zel says curtly.

“I’m commiserating,” Karlach says with a slight shrug. “I don’t really have an answer for you. ‘s not the sort of thing you fix.”

Lae’zel comes to an abrupt halt and turns to face Karlach directly. “There must be something,” she says. “I--” She breaks off abruptly and scowls down at the battered slats of the floor. “You know of these things,” she mutters. “I do not. I must have your help.”

“These things?” Karlach cocks her head slowly to one side.

A pause. Lae’zel flushes, her jaw working with frustration at the struggle to articulate her own feelings. “Romance,” she finally says carefully. Another pause, then suddenly rapid, “No. Not romance. Something more. The gentleness that comes with it. I feel the need for it, but do not know…” She falters, her ears flushing a deep olive. “I do not know what to do.”

“Oh.” Karlach would be tempted to smile, were it not for the fact that Lae’zel looks so terribly agitated. “Well, I’ll let you in on the first secret I know,” she says, “which is that we’re all making this the fuck up as we go along. I certainly am.” She nudges the barstool next to her with her boot toe. “C'mon, sit down."

Lae'zel sits abruptly, a soldier obeying orders. Karlach studies her for a moment thoughtfully. "Y'know," she says slowly after a little while, "sometimes when my engine's real bad, Hec'll just... do things for me. Just so I don't have to. Get my dinner served up, or clean out my armor, that sort of thing. And it helps." She rubs at her jaw. "I think, with this sort of shit... it's not about fixing. Not really. It's about... just being there, and holding some of the weight. Helping her keep living, while she sorts it all out."

Lae'zel considers this with narrowed eyes. "Yes," she says slowly.

Karlach's teeth flash in a cautious grin. "We've got a proper bathroom in our rooms upstairs now. You could draw her a bath, bring her dinner after... give her a night not having to think about anything."

Lae'zel nods. "Yes," she repeats. Her whole body is stock-still except for her fingertips which fidget almost imperceptibly against the floral-carved edge of the bar. 

Karlach's smile softens. "The way Hec tells it - it'll make you feel better too," she says gently. "Maybe feel a little less like your head's eating itself alive." She claps Lae'zel on the shoulder. "Look. We're gonna make this happen," she says. "And I'll help. She likes night orchids, right? I'm gonna go right now over to Bonecloaks and shake that woman down for every blossom she's got, and then Jaheira and me'll take the boys off on an adventure for a while. Leave the rooms upstairs all yours till, say, ten o'clock?"

She doesn't expect thanks - the whole crew, by now, is well aware that Lae'zel doesn't tend to say it out loud. What she does get, though, is a sudden tight grip on her forearm from the gith's long-fingered hand; a gesture of camaraderie - or perhaps the clinging of a drowning woman to a driftwood life raft. "That is... generous," Lae'zel mutters.

"Just doing my part to make love bloom," Karlach says airily.

Lae’zel flinches, her color deepening again. “We have not spoken of love,” she says stiffly.

Karlach lifts her eyebrows innocently. “Oh, are we not saying that part out loud yet?” she asks.

“Kainyank…” Lae’zel grumbles, rolling her eyes - but Karlach notices she doesn’t argue the point.

-----

Shadowheart sits on the bed, leaning against the window, her knees drawn to her chest. She’s dimly aware that the others haven’t come back from dinner yet, but it’s hard to muster the energy to care. Ever since the House of Grief, she’s felt drained, empty, surrounded by the shattered pieces of a world she doesn’t know how to reconstruct yet. She feels broken.

There’s the soft sound of a footstep up the stairs. Rustling movement in the center of the shared floor of their lodgings. The sound of running water from the magical taps in the bathroom. Shadowheart ignores it all, focusing her eyes on the progress of a fly climbing up the outside of the window glass. 

Then-- “Shadowheart?”

Something in her heart loosens just a little, hearing Lae’zel’s voice. It’s astonishing, given how they began, the way that Lae’zel has come to mean protection, and understanding, and calm. Lae’zel is safety in a way that none of the others are, because Lae’zel too has had her life taken apart, and the two of them have built a new one out of the ashes. “Yes,” she says softly, forcing herself to stir and lift her head. “I’m here.”

To her surprise, she finds that Lae’zel is standing watching her with a bundle of deep blue flowers in one hand. The gith shifts awkwardly and then sets the plants down on the nearby table. “I--” she says haltingly. A pause, and then she presses on doggedly as if expecting a burst of laughter from some corner at any moment. “All day you have sat here alone. I have drawn you a bath. Will you come?”

“A bath?” Shadowheart tips her head, mildly bemused.

“Yes.” Lae’zel shifts her weight slowly from one foot to the other. Then she adds, almost sheepishly, “Karlach said it would help.” A pause, then so low Shadowheart almost can’t hear it, “Let me help. Please.”

A sudden tight lump settles in Shadowheart’s throat, making it hard to speak. “Lae’zel--”

“I said I would protect you,” Lae’zel mutters. “But there is no enemy to strike. There is only this. These small things. It is not much, but…” 

“No.” Shadowheart slowly uncurls herself from the tight ball in which she has spent the last few hours. The barest hint of a smile pulls at her lips for the first time in days. It’s not about the bath, not really - she didn’t need or even really want one. It’s the reminder that there is more around her than the impenetrable shadow Shar has draped over her world. That Lae’zel is driving it back with both fists, even when she doesn’t think she knows how.

“No,” she repeats softly. “That sounds perfect.”