#more like a full oneshot

[fyreflys]

Could you write Peeta giving Katniss a long and thorough bath after he plants the primroses in canon? Because she’s such a little hawt mess when he comes home <3

OOOOOOOOOOO YES YES YES

Birdbath

(Peeta’s POV) - Halcyon, The Paper Kites

Warning: slightly suggestive (they bathe together) - mostly just fluff, no smut

Please ignore any mistakes I sped-ran this & did not proof read whooops

When they put him on a train back to 12, he’d felt a million things and nothing all at once. He’d closed his eyes, and tried not to think about the other times he’d taken this exact route. What each meant. What happened after.

Seeing district 12 in absolute ruins shook him to his core. For a moment he forgot about the torture in the capital, and the hijacking, and Katniss. For a moment he stood amongst ashes and felt grief that ripped him so strong he fell to his knees.

Somehow, Haymitch was there to pull him back from the rubble of himself. There to drag him to victors village, and shove a glass of water in his face. Once a mentor, always a mentor. Peeta would be impressed with Haymitch’s ability to pull himself out of his slum long enough to greet him upon arrival, but he’s too busy trembling near the fireplace.

He still feels like ghost most days, drifting through the world. Losing chunks of time, and finding himself in places he didn’t remember going.

Planting primroses in victors village ends up being one of those times.

“Peeta?”

She looked worse for wear than he was expecting. When he’d asked about her, they told him she was doing okay. But as he stared up at her, hands covered in dirt, she looked worse than “okay”. More like barely hanging on. Lucky to still be standing on her own two feet.

She clutched him a tight hug, and Peeta felt the tensions in his shoulders roll off. Warmth. That’s what Katniss is.

How they got from outside to here, in the bathroom, is a little unclear. Something about him asking her when she showered last, after they made into the house, turkey tossed in the fridge to wait for dinner. Something about her shrugging her shoulders.

He’s not sure how he convinced her to this. Tears were probably involved. Yes. Tears were involved. She broke down crying. Something about Prim. He carried her up the stairs. Right. Yes.

And now…now she’s in underwear and a tank top, and he’s running a bath. It’s quiet. He’s hesitant to touch her, and she takes his hand. And he’s less hesitant.

“Do you…want me to help?” He asks softly.

She doesn’t really answer. Instead she wipes her tears, and steps into the shower, still holding his hand. She stares down at the faucet. He puts in the plug after it’s warm. She squeezes his hand.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“Of course.” I love you.

Real or not real?

That’s Real. He knows that’s real. Right?

She slips off her underwear and takes a seat in the tub. She peels off her tank top. He swallows, eyes flickering across olive skin. Cheeks hot as he desperately tries to advert his attention elsewhere. He pours in some soap and watches as bubbles foam at Katniss’s toes. He shuffles to sit behind the tub so he’s looking at the back of her head.

He delicately undoes her braid, combing fingers through her hair. It’s not nearly as clean and shiny as usual. He finds a cup to scoop water into her hair, slowly drenching it. He shuts off the water once he decides it’s high enough, and then grabs shampoo. He lathers it into her locks. Her shoulders relax, head tilting back as he massages her scalp. He scratches, softly, and she hums. He’s gentle as he scoops and pours water to rinse out her hair. It’s clear she hasn’t bathed in a while. So he decides to scrub in another round of shampoo. Katniss leans into his touch, and he can’t help but feel warm at how domestic this moment is.

He rinses her hair again, and then gently smooths in conditioner. Katniss catches his hand as his fingers comb through her hair.

“What?” He whispers.

She glances back at him, grey eyes dull as they flicker over him. She reaches to tug at the sleeve of his t-shirt, nibbling at her lip. He feels heat race across his cheeks.

“Katniss-“

“I missed you.”

She says it like he’s back back. As if nothing ever happened. He’s still not sure he’s himself anymore. But they’ve always been good at pretending. Granted, he wasn’t ever really pretending. But he can try. Fake it till you make it.

He offers a small smile. “Yeah.” Is all he can really offer. Because he’s swayed back and forth between trying to remember what she means to him, and being slammed with an overwhelming sense of hatred. Its a been a while since anything close to that has hit him. But to say he’s missed Katniss doesn’t feel entirely right. Not when he’s still not sure how to feel about himself, let alone her. But he supposes being in front of her again…helps, in a way. Seeing her like this, bare to the world and vulnerable, helps his mind confirm that she is in fact not the monster he was brainwashed to believe. So maybe…maybe its something like relief.

She tugs at his sleeve again, wet fingers slipping up his arm to ghost over his bicep. She looks spacey, as if stuck in thought for a moment. He reaches to take her hand, squeezing gently.

And then grey eyes snap back to him. And she licks her lip.

“You’re dirty.” She whispers, reaching to wipe his cheek.

He glances down at his white t-shirt. And she’s right. He is dirty, from wiping his hands off on his shirt.

“And wet.” She adds on.

And he’s that too. Wet from washing her hair.

“Yeah.”

Her thumb brushes over his wrist. And she has a look on her face. And he’s not sure if he would have been able to read it a year or so ago, or if this is another one of those instances where she is an enigma. Because he’s never been able to read her well. Or…he thinks he hasn’t.

“You should…wash off.” She says. “You’re already wet.”

It takes a moment for his mind to wrap around that one. And then he’s bright red.

“You- you mean like- join you?”

She doesn’t give him any indication of yes or no. Just stares at the lip of the tub.

His heart picks up in his chest. And he decides, fuck it. He pulls off his shirt. Her eyes immediately flicker towards his chest.

“Yeah. Join me.” She whispers.

And he takes in a shaky breath. Oh.

She scoots forward in the tub to give him room to slide in behind her. And he knows he’s bright red.

He slips off his pants. Hesitates at his boxers.

“Katniss…you’re sure…”

“Just bathe with me. Please.” She pleads softly, like this is all the fight she has left in her.

She’s naked. He very well could be naked too.

“I…should I-“

“Do you usually take a bath in your underwear?” She asks exasperatedly, turning around to look up at him. Her eyes stray slightly. Which makes his cheeks burn.

“…No.”

She hums, and shifts in the tub, turning back around. He slips off his boxers. Tosses them on their pile of clothes. He takes a seat on the lip of the tub to take off his leg. And then he shifts to swing himself in behind her.

The water is warm as he sinks in. It feels really good. Katniss glances at him, and then she leans back against him. His breath catches at her touch. She pries one of his hands off the lip of the tub, where he hadn’t realized he was keeping a death grip. And she holds it, squeezing his knuckles as she lays against him, between his legs.

He’s certain he’s bright red. His pulse is racing, heart hammering in his chest. And he really hopes he doesn’t get too excited from this. Or at the very least, he hopes Katniss can’t tell.

This is far from what he was expecting today. In fact, today’s been a lot like a roller coaster of emotions. Up, down, sideways, and now this.

They sit in silence for a long moment of time. Katniss traces patterns across his wrist and up his palm, slowly melting into his chest. He closes his eyes, and wills his heart to please stop hammering in his chest. It doesn’t really work.

Katniss sniffles, and he shifts to look at her. He frowns when he sees tears running down her cheeks. And that gets his mind off the fact that they’re both naked and pressed together in a tub.

“Hey- what- what’s wrong?” He reaches to cup her cheek.

She swallows, shaking her head.

“I just- I miss my sister.” She whispers, and then suddenly a sob croaks out of her lips.

He hushes her, thumbs swiping her cheeks. She turns her face into his neck, and all he can do is wrap arms around her and squeeze. She hiccups as she cries, and he presses a kiss to her temple.

“I know, Katniss, I know.”

He doesn’t, really. He lost his family too. Didn’t really have time to grieve them. But he wasn’t as close with his brothers as Katniss was with her sister. His family kind of abandoned him after his first games. And he never really got past that. But Prim was always there for Katniss. And Katniss was always there for her. So he can’t really imagine what that’s like. But he’s sure it hurts. A lot.

He rubs his thumb against her ribs, squeezing her close. And she melts into him, sniffling as her cries soften. He whispers against her hair. Promises and assurances he knows he can’t keep, but he can’t stand to see her cry. And it works. Soon she’s just red eyed and exhausted. He presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s finish getting you cleaned up, yeah?”

She nods.

He finds a washcloth sitting on a ledge within reach. He dunks it in the water, and wrings it out. He has her grab him the soap bar, which he lathers into the washcloth. Katniss closes her eyes as he gently runs the rag down her arms, scrubbing softly. He pushes her up to sit so he can get her back, across her shoulders and down her spine. He adds more soap. And then he scrubs under her arms, and down her sides. She leans back into him when he runs it across her collar bones. And then he pauses.

“You can touch me.” She breathes, softly. “I trust you.”

He takes a deep breath. He knows that means a lot, coming from Katniss. Or…somewhere in his mind he knows that’s meant to mean something.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. It’s that he doesn’t think he should. This is a fragile moment. Neither of them are ready for anything like this. Not right now. Not when they’re both so damaged and still trying to heal.

“Peeta,” she says, “You’re thinking too much.”

And he supposes he is, thinking a lot. Sometimes he thinks it would be easier if just couldn’t think.

It doesn’t mean anything. This is just…them taking care of each other. And he’s happy with that. That’s really all he can handle right now. So this is okay.

His hand dips below the water to carefully clean her chest. Her head falls back on his shoulder, cheeks momentarily burning red. And he’s overcome with the desire to kiss her. She looks so gorgeous, leaned into him, blissful and vulnerable in a way she’s never been with him before. And maybe this is exactly what he needs.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, pausing his scrubbing of her tummy.

She blinks, grey eyes meeting his. Her gaze flickers down to his lips. And she nods.

“Yeah.”

So he does. Meets her lips. It’s an awkward angle. And he realizes the last time they kissed was down in the transfer, when she was trying to pull him out of a hijack episode.

“Stay with me”

“Always”

When he pulls away the words leave his lips without his control.

“Is this real?”

She pauses, grey eyes searching his face. A hand comes up to cup his cheek, stroking his jaw.

“Yes, this is real.” She whispers.

Good. He needs this to be real. Really needs this moment to be real.

She kisses him again. Shorter, this time. But the meaning still stands. It still gives him butterflies, and he suddenly feels giddy.

She smiles softly at him as he scrubs down her hips to her thighs. And he decides that maybe he should stop there.

“Katniss.”

She hums.

“I think you should do the rest.”

She blinks slowly. And she sighs.

“Yeah.”

She takes the cloth from him. Instead he goes about rinsing the remaining conditioner from her hair as she cleans. And he can’t help himself as he peppers kisses to her shoulders. She relaxes back against him when she’s done.

“I don’t want to get out.” She whispers.

He snakes a hand around her stomach to hold her closer.

“Me neither.”

Silence. Warmth. His heart feels overwhelmingly full.

He laces his fingers with hers, smiling as he pulls her hand out of the water.

“Your fingers are pruning. I think that means it’s time to get out.”

She groans.

“We can cuddle in bed.” He says softly.

She huffs. “Fine.”

She pulls the drain, and he leans forward wither her to rest his chin on her shoulder. She curls up, and he curls around her, the air freezing in comparison to the warm water of the tub. With a little coaxing, he convinces her to turn on the shower head to rinse them off of suds. She helps him stand on one leg, and rinses him off. He holds onto her for balance.

She bundles up in a towel, and the digs through the cabinet for an extra. He takes a seat on the lip of the tub, catching the towel she throws his way. He swings his legs over to dry his nub and pull on his prosthetic, and then he stands to make his way to his bedroom. He pulls on fresh clothes. Something soft and comfy. He’s in the process of finishing pulling on sweats when hands snake around him. He jumps, spinning to yank away.

Just Katniss. Katniss is good. Katniss isn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m sorry-“ she starts.

He takes a deep breath. Counts in his head, like his therapist has been trying to get him to do. And then finally opens his eyes.

She looks scared, arms hugging around herself. He sighs, and steps forward to crush her in a hug.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that.” He whispers, “it triggers me.”

“I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay. I know.”

And he does, know. He mind feels the clearest it’s been in weeks. And he’s not sure why. But it’s probably something to do with her.

They sway in place as they hug, and he takes deep breaths to try and calm himself. Her hands are warm on his back.

“Help me brush my hair?” She whispers after a while.

He smiles. “Yeah. Will you keep it down? It’s pretty.”

She hums. “I’ll consider it.”

So they do. They gently brush out Katniss’s hair. Peeta regals her with the coping strategies he’s been working on since they last saw each other. Katniss fills him in on how things in district 12 have been. Which is, admittedly, not a lot.

They curl in on her bed, her head against his chest, fully melted into him. She starts to cry again, and he wipes her tears. And hugs her close. And let’s her cry. And he cries too.

Later he will find himself on the kitchen floor, bread rolls scattered around him, with Katniss in his lap. He’ll have blanked out while baking her cheese rolls. A hijack attack that he should have seen coming with how up and down this day has been. And Katniss will coax him out of it. She’ll tell him where he is. Assure him that it’s okay he dropped the rolls.

And he won’t believe her entirely. But he’ll want to trust her. So he will.

They’ll clean up, and move to the couch. Where they’ll cuddle, and Peeta will fully come back to reality. And he’ll be relieved that he’s finally here.

But for right now, Katniss is in his arms, warm and cozy and safe. And that’s exactly what he needs.

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

[wrencatte]

mini-fic 3! Cere POV. linguist!Cal, Mantis Crew as Family, Merrin & Cal bonding 1.2k words

“This one?”

Cal squints at it for half a second, says “yes,” then looks back down.

“What about this one?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even look!”

“Greez, that’s the third time you’ve shown me that one.”

“No, it – oh, wait, haha, yeah it is. Okay. Let me see….”

Cere watches in fond amusement as Greez goes back to the shelves. Merrin comes over with a tome from deeper within the city library and angles it in a way Cal can look at it without straining his neck. His expression brightens and he takes it, running his fingers over the edges and corners.

There’s a slight twist in the Force that Cere’s beginning to learn means he found an echo. She has to focus pretty hard to feel it so she only pays it enough attention to be sure Cal’s not about to fall into anything nasty – not that she can do anything about it if he does, but she likes to be prepared – and tunes back into the softly murmured conversation between Merrin and Cal.

The Nightsister looks absolutely delighted at having found something in a language Cal doesn’t recognize, all quiet pride and subtle preening. Cere hides a smile behind her hand. Adorable. Cal flips the tome open and the two of them duck heads, Cal underlining a few words with his finger and saying something that Merrin repeats. He shakes his head and says it again. Her face twists in thought as she sounds it out before giving it voice and he nods rapidly, grinning. She smiles back, one of those small soft ones that pops up whenever it’s just her and Cal.

Cere is just about to go back to her own readings when Greez arrives, BD-1 whirling on his shoulder, a book held over his head in triumph.

“Ha! Try this on for size!”

Cal takes the book carefully. “I know this one,” he tells Greez, who groans in disappointment. “But, oh wow.” He flips through a few pages, lips moving as he reads the text silently to himself. “I can’t believe they have a book written in pre-Reformation Gwyrdd’tafodi. Do you know how rare that is? When they switched over, they deliberately destroyed all they could! An archivist hid this away for a hundred years in order to get it safely off the planet. It kept getting passed down the family line until one of them got passage on a ship.”

Greez crosses one set of arms, his free hands on his hips. He watches Cal fondly as the young Jedi’s excitement grows with every page flip. “You know, I would’ve never pegged you as such a gigantic nerd.”

“Jedi were scholars and peacekeepers before they were soldiers,” Cere says quietly. A hush falls on the group. Cal ducks down, shoulders hunching, eyes kept resolutely on the page though it’s obvious he’s not reading a single word. She smiles and adds lightly, “We’re all nerds.”

Cal laughs first, tinged with grief and legitimate delight. He tucks the book Greez brought under the one Merrin showed him, which makes Merrin throw Greez a smirk and for the latero to throw his crossed arms up in the air in a huff. Cere rolls her eyes fondly and catches Cal’s gaze. He grins, unrepentant, enjoying whatever contest is going on between their friends. It gets Cal more books without him getting up, so he’s not going to stop them.

Greez’s frustration is amusing to watch, especially when he snatches BD from scanning the book Cal has open so he can co-opt the droid’s database to help find a language Cal doesn’t know. It’s not helping. BD-1’s database might be filled with years and years of history and culture but knowing the intimate details of a language instead of just a simple dictionary is completely different.

Merrin listens to Cal read out loud for a few minutes, humming at all the right moments, but obviously thinking hard about something. Cere gives up on reading her book and focuses on the two of them, curious as to what’s going to happen next.

“How many languages do you know?”

Cal’s teeth click he stops talking so fast. “I don’t know,” he admits with a shrug. “Sometimes I don’t even realize I know a language until I see or hear it again. Sometimes not even then! It doesn’t always register it as a different language. It’s just…words I understand.”

She tilts her head, expression intense. “Could you learn Dathomiri?”

He grins and quips something in the smokey, gritty sounding language of Dathomir. Merrin’s eyes widen, and then, suddenly, they glimmer with a wetness both Cere and Cal pretend they don’t see.

Knuckles pressed to her lips, she breathes a very quiet, “oh,” before clearing her throat and adding roughly, “Your accent is terrible.”

“Is it though?” Cal asks smugly.

Merrin scowls. “I will teach you more…if you want to learn.”

Cal’s expression softens. “I would love to. Thank you for sharing it with me.” He adds something in Dathomiri at the end that has Merrin abruptly turning back to their shared book, expression pained and grieving.

Cere nudges the Nightsister with a tendril of the Force and gets a small smile in response. They don’t share the same bond as Jedi do, but theirs is enough for Cere to believe her. She settles back in her chair, musing on what her life has become, sharing a bond with a Nightsister, before she shrugs it off and fully intends on finally going back to her reading with Merrin and Cal’s back-and-forth as a background noise.

Except Greez comes back again, the book he carries is much thinner than any of the ones stacked around Cal like a barrier. BD-1 clicks excitedly and Greez is grinning smugly as he waves the book in the air.

“Did you know this place has an unknown language section? Guess who found it!” he all but brags. Merrin frowns, nose wrinkling while Cal laughs brightly and holds out a hand for the book.

Greez slaps it in his hand, earning a scandalized look from one of the librarians. Merrin and Cere laugh as he hunches down with quick apologies. Cal inspects the book carefully. If there are any echoes, they’re soft and quick. He grins.

“Congratulations, Greez, I don’t know this one.”

The latero cheers silently, all four arms thrown up in victory.

Merrin rolls her eyes. “You still lost. I found one first.”

Cal hums. “Best two out of three? This place is open for another five hours.”

The two of them exchange looks for a full second before Merrin jumps out of her chair and rushes into the depths of the library. Greez yelps and follows her as fast as he can without running. Cere hides her face, as though that will keep people from realizing they’re with her. Cal laughs, covering his mouth with his book. His eyes peek over, glittering in mirth. He pulls the book away, and holds it to his cheek, leaning in like he has a secret. Cere can’t help but lean in to hear it.

“I already know the language,” he admits.

Cere blinks at him then laughs loudly – nearly getting them kicked out of the library.

[johnslittlespoon]

Losing my mind over the “such a good little pup, aren’t you?” smut dialogue BUT- with CurtBuck >:)

Also “one more! Please!” from Curt bc I love a good needy Curt soooo much (and I can’t get over what you said the other day about Curt being whiny and needy compared to John’s feral and growly)

post life affirming sex, they all made it back from Algeria and John’s passed tf out from their previous fucking already and Curt’s so tired and already fucked out but he still has this current of energy running under his skin that he can’t help but squirm around until Gale questions him and he just lets out the sweetest little noise before begging and whining into Gale’s neck and Gale just manhandles Curt around so he can slide into him again, shushing him softly when he whimpers from the overstim of being fucked again but he needs it so bad

Anyway I’m actually insane and I desperately needed to entertain some CurtBuck thoughts soooo bad I just love the chemistry of those two together. John may be his partner in crime, but Gale is the steadying and grounding balance he needs too

- @mangokittokatsu

prompts | omg i'm so excited, i haven't written curtbuck outside of the throuple yet but i love them and they are so underrated, i'm so keen to explore their dynamic more <3 thank you for giving me an excuse to!! ~1k words of nsfw drabble below >:)

Curt shifts on the sex–ruffled, sweat–damp bed sheets, heart rate slowly returning to a normal pace but still antsy from the buzz rippling up and down his spine, rumbling uncomfortably just below the surface of his skin.

John’s snoring quietly behind him, one long leg tangled with Curt’s, always finding a way to stay connected even in rest. Gale’s still awake, fingers combing through his hair in a way that only serves to stoke the flames lapping at his insides rather than settle them down to warm embers the way the gentle touch usually does.

Curt turns his face further into the gap between him and Gale, pressing his forehead against his warm chest, pulling himself closer with the arm draped over Gale’s waist and crowding into his space. He’s so tired that it feels like a herculean effort just to bridge the few inches, and yet he can’t help but squirm when Gale’s other hand flattens itself against his back, his palm feeling like a branding iron against his too–hot, too–restless body.

He presses his hips forward, raising his chin enough to mouth at the base of Gale’s neck, tasting the salt of summer heat that’s gathered there, whining quietly. The rumble against his lips when Gale chuckles low in his throat has his hips twitching, fingertips pressing into Gale’s back.

“What’s wrong, doll?” The gravelly voice does nothing to aid the frenzied feeling creeping beneath his skin, and he nips at Gale in retaliation, rocking forward into a firm thigh again when the hand in his hair tightens ever so slightly.

“Need more,” Curt huffs out a breath when Gale pulls his head back so he can get a good look at him, eyes bleary as he watches the corner of Gale’s mouth twitch with amusement and something akin to hunger.

“You can barely keep your eyes open, baby,” he coos, on the verge of teasing, and a whimper slips out before Curt can stop it.

“Just one more,” he breathes out, eyelashes fluttering as he rolls his hips, pretty certain that he can get himself off on Gale’s thigh if he keeps holding his hair tight like that. “Please, Gale.”

That’s enough to get Gale to move, always weak to his begging, hand firm on his hip as he rolls him over and pulls his back flush against his chest like it’s effortless. It makes Curt’s head spin, mumbling a dazed “fuck” as Gale manhandles him how he wants him, his eyes falling on John’s sleeping form.

“What a needy thing,” Gale hums next to his ear, fingers pressing into Curt’s mouth, and Curt dutifully wets them with a moan, though he’s not sure he could’ve stopped himself from drooling had he tried. Gale pulls his fingers out and reaches between them, taking himself into his hand, slicking himself back up before dragging the head of his cock in a teasing up and down over his hole, and Curt trembles, fingers twisting in the bed sheets.

“Please,” he whines again, pushing his hips back, and Gale takes pity on him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before sliding back into where he’d filled Curt up no more than twenty minutes prior. Curt eyes snap shut, head tilting back, mouth falling open in a choked out cry, verging on the edge of too–sensitive but simultaneously feeling the restlessness be smothered.

Gale hushes him softly, moving his hand to flatten over Curt’s stomach as he pulls him close enough that he’s really only gently rocking his hips into him, a painfully slow back and forth of his cock, but so good and so full, pressing right up against where Curt’s still aching for it even after taking both of them until he had been shaking.

“Oh,” Curt sighs out, clenching around Gale’s cock and feeling his hips stutter forward into him, shuddering at the groan he receives. 

“This what you needed, baby?” Gale grazes his teeth just below his jaw, and Curt nods desperately, rocking back against him, whimpering. The hand on his stomach presses down, and hot tears jump to the corners of his eyes at the sharp–sweet pleasure the added pressure grants him, feeling each drag inside him so much more intensely.

“Gale,” he gasps, writhing against the warm body behind him, hands tightening in the sheets.

“Such a good little pup, aren’t you?” Gale murmurs against his neck, and that’s enough for Curt to reach down and take his own cock into his hand, hissing at the sensitivity but needing the friction so bad that he fights through it, feeling the pillow dampen against the side of his face as tears finally leak out.

Gale pulls back a little more to drive in harder each time, still keeping his movements slow and deep, making sure it’s not too much for him, lips soft where he mouths at the crook of his neck. He rumbles against Curt’s skin, chasing gentle nips with the press of his tongue and light enough suction to not leave lasting marks, panting quiet encouragement and praise when his thrusts start to get messy.

He feels Gale nudge at his hand, knocking it out of the way and replacing it with his own, and Curt moans at the way the heat engulfs him, rocking his hips up into Gale’s hand and back against his cock, over and over as the honey–hot feeling in his stomach builds. It doesn’t take long before all his muscles are tensing, burying his face in the pillow to muffle his strangled sob, shaking hard as he jerks between Gale’s hand and body, making a mess over his knuckles.

Curt nearly convulses when Gale pushes in deep and goes still, spilling into him once again, filling him with a heat that feels like it oozes through his entire body, melting his bones down to nothing and turning his brain to mush as he chants desperate whimpers of Gale’s name into the pillow.

Fresh tears well up from the almost painful friction when he slides out of him a minute later, and he whines in complaint, but Gale leans over him and kisses him better, slow and soft with a hand cupping his face to help him tilt it to the side.

“You’re unreal,” Gale murmurs against his lips, and Curt still flushes, even after everything else.

(+ Curt wakes up in the morning to John working him open on his fingers because they all can’t get enough of each other as is, let alone after the scare that was Algeria, and he’s sore and tired but god does he ever need to be full of him again, so they take it slow and gentle and Gale wakes up to the sight of Curt absolutely enveloped by John’s broad body, and fuck, there they all go again.) (p.s. @mangokittokatsu i'm gonna be so real, i only have to see your @ to know i'm about to be knocked back in my chair by whatever words you decide to grace my inbox with LMAOO i hope this is a solid thanks for all the brainrot you share <3)

[welcometoteyvat]

the only thing i took away from hsr 2.1 is that march is gay

[crabsnpersimmons]

Y'ALL HAVE ME LIKE

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID

BUT Y'ALL HAVE BEEN SO SWEET

I'M SORRY IT'S TAKING ME SO LONG TO REPLY

I WANNA DRAW THINGS BACK

AND I WILL

after my exam tomorrow :')

[starheirxero]

I love words so much there's so many fun things to say.... like. y'all hear this shit? divine. theophagy. machine. clockwork. angel. blood. flesh. viscera. primordial. antennae. those words fucking rock i love words so much bro

[wanhedas-dagger]

Do yall think I should write the first chapter or like a little teaser for the pop star x pro athlete au for Wanheda’s Dagger week 🤔

[rooolt]

Me petting and shushing dndads fandom like they’re a scared horse after this episode like “guys I promise he’s gonna be fine”

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

This big boy took almost 14 hours (!!) which I think is about the longest I've spent on an art piece

[socialbunny]

dustindirk get famous au from when i was 15 save me....... 2024 resolution i will write and post some dustindirk shit this year fr this time i mean it

[shizukahaiji]

About to say something controversial but I think some of the Blue Lock fandom is getting way too comfortable with being homophobic

[twilight-deviant]

xenasoul These two were made for the A/B/O verse ❤️

Anything that forces Fisk and Matt together under unfortunate circumstances has my full attention. ✪ω✪ Even better if there's a child involved and they become inseparable forever. (Not great for the child caught in the middle. Great for me though. XD)

I'm very particular about how I like a/b/o, but I love the ones I write. 😂 In their behavior and personalities, DD canon really does set Fisk/Matt up for a/b/o like a dare. Joke's on them. I take very little provocation to accept a dare.

[malikselfindulgence]

I was about to apologisefor the torrent of posts I'm making but I am not sorry about that at all . I am however sorry to everyone who's requests I'm procrastinating on by posting nonsense on tumblr . com

[holybananaoafshoe]

Modern AU: Halloween 🎃 1/2

It’s way after Halloween, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT?? I’m happy you guys are here, and what would the spooky season be without a, hastily written, one shot? Here’s the first half for you guys!

Pairing: Kaeya and Wriothesley  :)

TLDR: What’s Halloween without a party, a ghost hunt, and some well-meaning shenanigans?

“Please, Albedo, it’ll just be for tonight!”

“No.”

“I’ll do anything,” Kaeya pleaded, “I’ll do all of the taste testing for the next month.”

The man in question was lounging languidly on the couch of their shared apartment, feet propped up on the coffee table, and absentmindedly watching some kind of documentary on cryptids across the United States. A large bowl of candy sat on the round end table next to the couch, a few discarded wrappers laying on Albedo's lap as he watched the documentary. 

The living room was dark, the only source of light coming from the various lit candles around the apartment and the glowing TV. Small pumpkins that were crudely carved by Kaeya and Klee littered the counter top, while the more intricately carved ones Albedo had carved (as well as a few he carved for Klee) were displayed on the balcony. 

Their neat apartment had a few cobwebs strewn about and rubber bats hanging from the ceiling. Their kitchenette had some small test tubes and beakers with water and food coloring in them. A few had smoke drifting from the tops to pool on the counter--courtesy of Albedo, who took a few leftover dry ice chunks from work. Ghosts hung in the hallway that led to their bedrooms and the bathroom. They had painstakingly hung up their fairy lights on the ceiling of the hallway in an attempt to make the ghosts seem a little less scary. Poor Klee had gotten quite the scare late one night while she was sleeping over because she forgot they had hung them up, that is until a passing car's headlights cast the ghosts' eerie shadows on the wall. 

Kaeya liked to dub the hallway “Specters Crevice,” but it seems others did not share his sentiment as they’d wrinkle their noses or roll their eyes at the cheesy name. All, besides Klee, who had giggled and hung up a small ghost that looked a lot like Dodoco. The name, lights, and the ghost resembling Dodoco had thankfully helped ease the young girl's mind.

It was their night off from the Knights of Flavorus, which was a small bakery owned by Alice. The local bakery wound up expanding relatively fast with the help of Albedo’s scientific ways of combining flavors and the owner’s own to-die-for recipes. Albedo was the head food and flavor chemist of the company and managed a small team that would come up with wacky flavors that made all the employees a little nervous to try. 

Kaeya had known both Alice and Albedo long before the bakery began. Alice had been close to Crepus, his adoptive father, before he had passed away. She visited so often that he and Diluc have taken to calling her “Aunt Alice.” Since Crepus's passing, Alice had taken Diluc and Kaeya under her wing, treating them like her own children and helping them through the hardships they endured after the funeral. The family held a special place in Kaeya’s heart, they took him in after he and Diluc had gotten into a nasty fight in the bar. The brothers had exchanged harsh words--words neither of them truly meant, but left emotional scars all the same. One of the long-time bartenders broke them up and let Kaeya leave early, just an hour after midnight. Wouldn’t you know, that would be the same night a drunk driver hit Kaeya in a head-on collision as he was driving towards Aunt Alice’s house. 

He lost his right eye and his brother that night. 

The next following days in the hospital were…ones he’d rather forget to be honest. Surprisingly Diluc would visit, which would always end up in a yelling match that Aunt Alice or nurses would rush to break up. During those rough weeks of healing and physical therapy and searching for a job (and trying not to think about his eye), she had let him stay with her. Aunt Alice bought the bakery just a few months after his accident and hired Kaeya as one of the bakery’s managers. After a lot of deliberation and discussions and arguments with Diluc, he started work at the Knights of Flavorus and got an apartment with Albedo. He was often found upfront working his customer service ‘charms’ as Lisa, their accountant, would say, or in the back decorating cakes.

Thankfully, Kaeya and Diluc are at least on speaking terms now. Sometimes, they can even stand each other long enough for Kaeya to help out at the bar or to sit through an event with Aunt Alice and her family. 

Nonetheless, Albedo was not one to dress up for Halloween, often going with whatever costume Kaeya or Klee wore or just donning his lab coat and grabbing some kind of prop he dug out from Kaeya’s closet. Tonight, he sported an oversized white hoodie that had swirling gold embroidery on the arms with stars sprinkled in, a pair of navy sweats, and fluffy Dodoco slippers Alice had gifted to him last Christmas. 

Kaeya had on his costume and a face full of makeup, ready for a night out in the town.

Only, he had forgotten he was supposed to take Klee out to the annual Halloween bash in the park this year. The bash is hosted by the town where various businesses open up elaborately decorated booths ranging from food to games to entertainment. It was one of the biggest holiday celebrations in the town, right next to Christmas. The winners of the booth decorating contest won bragging rights as well as the ability to pick where their booth would be located at the next year's bash.

After the bash, the streets in town would be closed off for a few hours so kids can run around and go trick-or-treating. Everything considered, the turn out for the event was huge and most of the employees at the Knights of Flavorus worked in shifts at their booth.

It was the first Halloween either has had off for…a while. Usually the two spent the night covering each other's breaks at the Knight's booth so they could spend a little time with Klee. Yet, here they were, spending the few hours before the Halloween Bash to get their costumes on and goodie bags for the kids ready, and Kaeya just realized his predicament. 

Albedo slowly tore his eyes away from the TV and looked over at Kaeya, raising an eyebrow at his costume. “Last time I covered for you, you got arrested.”

“And I got a cute boyfriend out of it, your point?” 

Last Halloween, Kaeya had gotten into a small fight with a customer that resulted in both him and the customer getting detained and taken to the nearby police station. He wasn’t even working for the Knights of Flavorus, he was helping his brother bartend. Technically, he was supposed to be at the barkery, but Albedo had covered hsi shift after Diluc had called Kaeya up right around the time the Halloween Bash began, asking if there was any way he could help. His long-time bartenders had called in just before the bar opened: one had gotten sick and the other had to rush their child to the emergency room (word on the street was the child had grabbed a flaming marshmallow with his bare hands, apparently trying to throw it into their cup), leaving Diluc alone at the bar. Kaeya couldn't exactly leave his brother to fend for himself, he knew how busy the Halloween party at the bar got and then the absolute insanity when the after party started. (It was always the best party of the year, fondly remembered by all those who participated until the next rolls around).

It wasn’t his fault and, if it says anything, Diluc and the police agree that Kaeya was not at fault. 

Listen, what was he supposed to do when he kept getting orders for angle shots? He and Diluc made sure to keep an eye out for the creep. Unfortunately, with how packed it was, neither seemed to be able to spot the man. His breaking point was when Barbra, a member of a local band that often played live music at the bar, had shakily come up to him and tell him that it was Albert. At that point, Kaeya had left the bar to hunt the man down. Can you blame him? He was getting sick and tired of throwing Albert out for creeping on girls and following Barbra around the parking lot. No matter what he or Diluc tried, nothing seemed to keep Albert away. 

When he finally caught Albert’s ass, he made sure to get between Albert and the person he was pursuing. Of course, when kicking Albert out peacefully didn’t work, Kaeya had tried to forcefully kick him out. One thing led to another, and Albert wound up breaking a bottle of wine over Kaeya’s head and used the bottle as a makeshift weapon. At some point in the fight, Kaeya had been able to wrestle the bottle away and subdue Albert until the police arrived. 

Imagine Kaeya’s surprise when the police arrested both of them. He supposed it had been a year or two since he’s worked as security, but he thought the local police would at the very least remember all the times he had called the station about an unruly drunk. 

He didn’t exactly regret fighting Albert, the man had it coming for a long time and a small part of him was satisfied that he was the one to put the man behind bars, but he did regret having to sit in an interrogation room for the rest of Halloween without spending any time with Klee. He sat in the cold interrogation room for who knows how long--his head bleeding, feeling a little woozy, and overall reevaluating his life choices--until Wriothesley had walked in. It’s cheesy to say, but Kaeya’s breath was taken away at the sight of the officer. How could he not be infatuated when the officer scrolled in, a slight grin tugging at his lips, and began to tease Kaeya about the fight?

He wound up doing community service for a few weeks, but it was so worth it. 

For one, Albert was officially banned from the bar and Diluc was able to get a restraining order of sorts to keep him off the bar's property. Secondly, it also gave Kaeya more time with Wriothesley. Eventually, he had worked up the nerve to ask the other out for dinner, who had teasingly said he would take up his offer once he was finished with community service. 

“My point,” Albedo said, pointing a Crunch bar at him, “is that last year, you were beside yourself for missing out on spending time with Klee.” 

“I know," Kaeya sighed, "it's just, I can do the Halloween Bash, but Wriothesley and I wanted to go to the after party together and…" 

"That's when trick-or-treating starts," Albedo finished for him.

Kaeya nodded and silence filled the space between them as Albedo thoughtfully munched on the candy. After a moment, Albedo looked over at him and pointed his half-eaten crunch bar at Kaeya: “You know, you still owe me for knocking a whole tub of peppercorns into batter when you and Wriothesley tried to fu--”

“OOOKAAY we agreed to never bring that up again,” Kaeya interrupted, his face turning a nice shade of red. 

Albedo took an aggressive bite of his candy, the loud snap making Kaeya cringe, and threw his arms up as if to say: what do you want me to do, when you haven't touched a single cake pop I've made?

The Peppercorn Incident™ happened when Kaeya and Wriothesley first started dating. Let’s just say Wriothesley's after hours visit to the Knights of Flavorus with Kaeya to pick up a set of keys had turned into an impromptu cake decorating lesson in the large walk in cooler that got a tad flavorful, if you will. In their passion, they had knocked over a large container of peppercorn into leftover dough (who knew plastic wrap was so flimsy?). 

After knocking the peppercorn over, they decided it would probably be best to continue elsewhere, so Kaeya cleaned up (he wasn’t a monster, thank you, people make food on those tables) and they left. Only, he had forgotten to throw out the leftover batter, and Albedo had been the lucky soul who had decided to look at the security footage to find the culprit. Thankfully, Albedo deleted the footage and they both agreed never to speak of it again, so long as Kaeya taste tested anything Albedo made for the Halloween Bash.

You can imagine how much Kaeya had wanted to yeet himself into the abyss when Albedo had dragged him into dry storage and confronted him about it. 

Kaeya can only imagine what would have happened if Sucrose, or, God forbid, Aunt Alice had found the footage.

Small mercies and all of that. 

Regardless, Kaeya didn’t mean to avoid taste testing things for Albedo. Between helping Diluc out with the bar, getting the Knights of Flavorus’s Halloween booth items, and splitting his spare time between Klee and Wriothesley he hasn’t been able to pop by the labs. Usually, Kayea doesn't overwork  himself--he prides himself on his ability to balance his time between work and life--but before he had realized, he found himself committing to setting up the bakery’s booth for the Halloween Bash and helping at Angel's Share all so he could get tonight off. 

He wasn't proud to say that Albedo and Lisa had to send him home early a few times (nearly collapsing at the counter and throwing an entire tray of cupcakes away instead of the broken piping bag wasn't his brightest moments), calling Wriothesley to come pick him up and drive him back home. One day, Albedo took one look at him, picked up his phone, and told Jean Kayea wasn't coming to work--all while maintaining eye contact. Don't get Kayea wrong, he was thankful for his coworkers (if he was being honest, they were all more friends than coworkers) and without them he wouldn't be half as alert as he was currently. 

However, Albedo hasn’t summoned him to the labs once. Instead he just set random cake pops out and about the apartment, and they weren’t even weird flavors, they were vanilla. Perhaps he didn't call him over because he could see how exhausted Kaeya was, but he was fully capable of making caffeinated cake pops.

Albedo can deny it all he wants, but he swears he's seen something about it in Albedo's recipes.

Not only that, but Albedo occasionally enjoyed giving them things to taste test that were unusual, stifling a laugh when they made faces at the flavors. So to say that Kaeya would have been the perfect subject for unusual flavor testing, tired and unassuming as he's been the past few weeks, would be an understatement. 

The perfectly normal and delicious cake pops were odd, suspicious even, and Kaeya had halfway expected one of them to have an interesting candy coating. Except none of them ever did.

(No matter how much Albedo liked tricking others into tasting something odd, he wasn't cruel. Not that he didn't try to make something for Kaeya, he just felt bad pushing his unholy creations onto his tired roommate. Besides, Kaeya has been working his ass off to try to get Halloween off to spend time with Klee. Even Albedo had to admit his efforts were enduring, so maybe he made Kaeya's favorite cake pop flavor to help him feel better after a rough night at the bar. He even made a few for Wriothesley, who would drive Kaeya home. He'd spend the night and cook Kaeya’s favorite breakfast the next morning. Wriothesley would stay over more to make sure Kaeya would actually go to bed rather than work on finding things for the bakery’s Halloween booth.)

So here they were.

Kaeya shuffled his feet, the red shoes of his costume squeaking on the floor. "Listen, I'll make good on that and I'll make sure to help keep nosey cooks and customers away from the labs during the holidays." 

Albedo hummed and stated: "I believe you will…and I'll come up with something you can help me with for this later, so go have fun on your date."

Kaeya let out a victorious whoop, crossing the distance between himself and his roommate to give him a sloppy hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Albedo laughed and patted his friend's back: "Yeah, yeah, don't get too ahead of yourself." 

Kaeya went back into the kitchen, buying himself with packing up a small goodie bag for Klee and another for Wriothesley's adopted cousin Freminet, humming a song to himself happily. 

He paused, his hand hovering between the popcorn balls and Halloween baggies, suddenly realizing: "There's no way you're only wearing a hoodie to Halloween."

"I didn't have time to get a costume." Albedo called from the living room.

"Oh, we'll make you a costume." 

[hanaaria]

creating a new dnd character is so fun like what the fuck