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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch.

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch.

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream.

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.”

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet.

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave.

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now.

Remembering the words.

What are you doing?

Changing the world.

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does.

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is.

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse.

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin.

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside.

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up.

Everything. You're everything.

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin.

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise.

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody.

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is.

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second.

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers.

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too."

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror.

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love.

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie.

I love you.

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days.

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie.

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now.

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs.

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient.

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other.

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie.

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord.

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it."

And so they do.

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means."

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them.

You know, I always figured it would be you.

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be.

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too."

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys."

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his.

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!"

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time.

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile.

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you.

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression.

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?"

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you."

"Hmm. I love you more."

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?"

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers.

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask.

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future.

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieweek2023 #steddie week fic #i feel like this one's a bit disjointed but i kinda like that about it?? little snippets that make a happy ending you know??#idk i hope you like it too (i always get anxious about endings tbh catch me vibrating out of my skin)#dio words #i cannot believe it is done. i cannot believe what a ride it's been. i'll find the words for it later i think. first we read. and we bask 🤍#morcantinon i am ENDLESSLY sorry i forgot to tag you even after you sent that wonderful ask please forgive me 😭🤍#i also forget a bunch of people who asked in the reblogs but dear god i hope you find this anyway i am all over the place #i will edit this and work in more chrissy/robin when i post it to ao3. but this is steddie week. and these are 15k words of an au #that happened spontaneously and within 2h each night of me flying by the seat of my pants. xD

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saleeba · 2 months

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Arguing with Levi over something stupid and ur honestly tired of the whole thing so you just him with “Whatever you say beautiful” and he just turns his nose up and starts stumbling over his words

summary ♡ what the request says!

pairing ♡ levi colwill x gn!reader

content ♡ fluff, attempting to settle a classic british debate, cursing, reader is so over levi

a/n ♡ this is most probably not the argumentative scenario that anon had in mind but i fell into my silly guy tendencies >_< tysmm anon for requesting this & i hope u enjoyyyy <3<3

it’s been over forty-five minutes of the same aggravation from your boyfriend, or at least you assume so — you stopped keeping tabs a while ago, so incredibly tired of arguing with him over something so silly. sunday afternoons were supposed an agreed time for relaxation but today’s snack time was far from that after levi clocked the way you prepare your scones.

“it’s clearly jam first; you spread that shit with a knife then dollop the cream on top,” levi’s hands move maniacally, mimicking the same actions that he’s describing. “how would cream first make sense?”

“i dunno, babe. spread the cream then dollop the jam?” between brief chews of sweet cream-first scones, your words come across as way too nonchalant for the chelsea boy and a shrug from your shoulders to pair with them makes him even more incredulous.

“that’s fucking disgusting.”

an exasperated groan leaves your lips as you push back the stool that you’re sitting on at the island and reach your destination of the fridge, routing through tubs and packets for a refreshing bottle of orange juice.

“levi, if you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” there’s silence from levi as the sound of juice pouring into glass fills the atmosphere, and you can tell the cogs of pettiness are turning in your boyfriend’s brain. it’s the way his eyes narrow at you (you swear that if he were a cartoon character, he’d be shooting lasers at you right now) and his bottom lip juts out just the slightest, thinking about how to get one over you since he actually does want to eat the sweet treats that you had gotten up extra early to make.

“no, no, i have to show you how to do it properly, yeah?” a little point of the butter knife in his hand at you and the boy’s now giving you an unsolicited demonstration of how to layer that jam-cream combo. “so, what you do, yeah, is put the knife into the jam jar and the��”

you seriously can’t take this anymore, fearful that your eyes may get stuck in your skull if you roll them one more time.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say, beautiful.”

and it takes just that to have your boyfriend drop the butter knife in the jam, falling over his words as he struggles to get them out and make his case. it will always be the way you say that word and more so say it to him, about him, that will run his mouth dry of anything against you.

“uh, yeah, well… look, uh–”

a playful smirk from you has his heart squeezing in the best way.

“are we done here, levi? because i would really like us to stop arguing over fucking jam and cream and go cuddle on the couch now.”

you call the shots every time and levi can’t help but drop his case entirely, following you like a lovesick puppy to the sofa where you’ve taken the plate of scones along with their matching condiments, laying them out on the coffee table for him.

“show us how it’s done then, pretty boy.”

#levi @ reader after they called him beautiful: fragmen- woo uuhh- sca- uhh fragment foot bullet fragment foot bitch!!!#hi btw . if u even care #this came out a little later than intended bc mental illness is beating me arseee #rlly hope u all like it tho!!! 💕💕#levi colwill #levi colwill imagine #levi colwill fluff #levi colwill x reader #levi colwill x you #levi colwill x y/n #footballer fluff #footballer imagine #football imagine #anon #˗ˏˋ ✉️ ˎˊ˗#-ˋˏ✄┈ saleeba’s snippets #˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗

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wikiangela · 2 months

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tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @jesuisici33 💖

more of the cheating fic bc I'm loving the scene with Hen and Buck is being sooo messy and sooo oblivious and I'm having so much fun lmao - also, I gave myself a deadline for posting the first chapter whether I finish the whole fic by then or not (I hope I do lol 🤞) so this is gonna be my main focus for now haha (unless inspiration takes me somewhere else)

prev snippet

___

“Do you love Eddie?”

“Of course I love Eddie.” Buck huffs. It’s the most obvious thing in the world. Eddie and Christopher are his world. The only thing is… “I’m just not sure if I’m in love with him.”

“Then why the hell did you cheat?” she asks, exasperated, and so done with Buck. If Buck was her, he’d just kick himself out, to be honest. “You and Eddie clearly have something, and you felt enough for him to cheat on your girlfriend. Don’t kid yourself that you can just go on after this like nothing happened, with either of them. The best thing you can do now is to come clean to Taylor, and probably break up.”

“Well, you cheated too, and you and Karen figured it out.” he blurts out, and immediately regrets it when Hen’s eyes darken dangerously. Okay, this is when he’d kick himself out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No offense,” Hen says slowly, quietly, through clenched teeth, tone icy, and it’s almost worse than if she’d yell at him, “but you and Taylor are nowhere near me and Karen. You don’t even love her, and clearly you don’t regret cheating that much, since you did it twice. It’s an entirely different situation, so do not bring me and my wife into this.”

“I know, sorry, that was out of line.” Buck says quietly, feeling small under Hen’s gaze.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @transbuck @911onabc @housewifebuck @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @steadfastsaturnsrings @giddyupbuck @dangerpronebuddie @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @daffi-990

#buddie cheating fic #tease tidbit tuesday #fic: got a girl at home (but I love the way you taste)#ngl I wasn't sure if I wanted him to go there bc I barely remember anything about that storyline #but i feel like he'd blurt out smth stupid like that lol #why is writing this fic and buck being like this the most fun i've had lately haha #chapter 1 will be posted in about a month and i hope i'll finish the whole or most of the fic by then hah #fic snippet #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips

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save-the-villainous-cat · 10 months

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Hiiii ur writing is amazing:D

Soooo I saw this prompt and u were the first one to jump into my mind!

"Your hair is so soft..."

" stop it! You're making this harder, not letting me focus on killing you."

Hero x villain, where villain is sitting on hero's belly and holding a knife to their throat.

I was wondering if you could write something like this;)

“Your hair is so soft…”

The villain looked down at them, stared into the hero’s eyes as if the abysses of their pupils held any answers. They didn’t and the villain was fully aware of the pain and destruction they could cause in the next few seconds. With the hero’s hand — more fingers broken than healthy — in their hair, they felt quite breathless.

“Stop it,” the villain hissed. The knife in their hand felt heavy, out of place even. It was the first time in their life that a weapon conjured those feelings. “You’re making this harder. You’re distracting me.”

“Homo homini lupus, I get it,” the hero whispered. The villain let out a shaky breath and hardened their grip around the knife. “But it could’ve been so easy. You could’ve been mine and I could’ve been yours.”

“Self-realisation doesn’t include personal relationships. I need to fulfil my potential,” the villain said. Cutting the hero’s throat was supposed to be quick and painless, at least for the villain. But this drama had been going on for half an hour now. The villain didn’t know what to do with themselves, where to place themselves in this fight. Bleeding out was less painful than this and the villain would know. They’d almost bled out several times if it weren’t for the hero. “I need to get revenge. I need justice.”

The hero’s hand glided down the villain’s neck, grasping their biceps weakly. They were unbelievably gently, even in the face of death, even in their final moments.

“I didn’t kill your family.”

“But you’re standing in my way,” the villain said and they couldn’t deny how much their voice shook. “You’re holding me back. You would never let me kill them.”

“You know me too well,” the hero said. They took a deep breath, seemingly tired and overwhelmed. The villain couldn’t blame them, they were tired too. Unfortunately, the only way to end this was bloodshed. The villain was almost sure the hero would close their own hand around the handle of the knife to guide them. “And yet you choose selfishness.”

“I’m choosing destiny,” the villain said. “It is my destiny to do this.”

“What if I’m your destiny?”

“We both don’t really think that, do we?”

“It’s possible.”

“But very far from probable.”

“You’re being cruel.” The hero’s eyes were sharp, despite their physical state. It had something didactic, something authoritative and the villain felt horrible. They pressed the knife deeper into the hero’s soft neck, but there was no blood yet as if that would solve anything.

In their head, they cursed themselves but that disgusting part of their brain thought relentlessly about the right angle and pressure to apply to the cut.

“I’m being honest. We’re perfect for each other but we are not meant to be,” the villain said. Slowly, their eyes began to burn. Everything was hot and they couldn’t really breathe. God, they were killing their lover. The only person who had accepted their mistakes and their bad obsession with revenge.

They were killing them, oh god.

Although the villain knew them by heart, they looked at them as if they had to burn the image of their face into their brain.

“So, don’t make this harder. Be a hero and don’t let me suffer,” the villain begged. Their other hand pushed hair out of the hero’s face and by now, the villain’s tears started to gather in the corners of their eyes. Softly, they let their thumb brush over the hero’s bottom lip, leaning in. But they couldn’t bring themselves to kiss them.

They drew back, grip harsher than ever around the knife.

“You decide,” the hero said. “No one else.”

“Of course, my love. Homo homini lupus.”

They didn’t need to say more. Both knew what they were going to do.

#hope you like it <3 #I want at least 500 essays in my inbox with interpretations on how this story ends TOMORROW 7 AM SHARP #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 9 months

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Kara Prince AU Pt 9

Guilt washes over Kara. All it had taken was a few careless words at a party to bring Lena's greatest enemy to her door. Nevermind that this Lex was different from the one who had haunted Lena in those other realities-- he had found her, because of Kara.

When they return to the cottage that night, Kara explains who Lex is, who he might become, and why he had set his sights on Lena. She tells Lena about the other reality in which she had seen a version of their lives, one that had prompted Kara to seek Lena out in Metropolis, thereby opening the door to let Lex into Lena's life.

Lena listens, and takes it all in stride. Where Kara expects blame, she receives only quiet acceptance. Instead of outrage, Lena takes her hand in gratitude.

"Thank you for telling me," she says softly. "But I have a feeling he would have found me eventually, whether you had spoken to him or not."

"Come back with me to Paris," Kara urges, gripping Lena's hand tightly. "He knows where you are, he might--"

"He will not chase me from my home."

There's steel in Lena's voice, brooking no argument. Kara bows her head, only to lift it again when Lena's hand cups her cheek.

"With you here, I have nothing to fear."

But before long, Diana sends word from Clark that trouble is brewing in America, and a warning that their help may be needed in due time. Barely a week later, a string of attacks in Metropolis has Kara's cousin calling for aid.

Despite her misgivings towards her cousin, Kara can't bring herself to refuse the call. Diana raised her too well to ignore the peril of so many.

Before Kara leaves, however, Lena presses a small crystal into her palm. It's tethered to a narrow leather lanyard-- simple and rudimentary, but precious in that it was given by Lena.

"Wear this," Lena urges. "For protection."

Kara loops it around her neck right then and there. With one last kiss, Kara lifts into the air and soars away, feeling as though she's left her heart behind.

Once in Metropolis, it doesn't take long for them to discover that the perpetrator of the attacks is none other than Lex Luthor himself. At first, they believe it will be a simple thing to take down a single human, but Lex proves resourceful. His allies spread all three of them across the city, and when it comes time for Clark and Kara to choose whether to stay on Lex's tail, or dismantle the bombs he'd placed throughout the city, Kara insists on being the one to track him down.

With the Lexosuit, Lex is a match for Clark-- but he is not a match for Kara. She is stronger, faster than her cousin, with an edge he could never hone himself into.

She is going to stop Lex, and protect Lena in the process.

The task is easier said than done, however. Lex's suit is stronger than she remembers from the other reality, more agile in the air. His lasers too pack more of a punch, and send her tumbling through the air until she's left breathless and acheing.

She takes a moment to gather herself on the roof of LexCorp, propping herself on one knee as Lex hovers in front of her. Gloating, as is his wont.

"Does my bastard sister know what you are?" he asks. "I wonder what she'll say, when she realizes she's been loving a monster--"

All of a sudden, the crystal flashes white hot around Kara's neck. In the next moment, an explosion collides with Lex's chest, sending him tumbling backwards in the air. He lands heavily on the roof, giving Kara the opportunity to look to where Lena stands beside her, another fireball already charging between her hands.

"Lena! How did you--?"

"The charm. Point to point teleportation spell." Lena shoots her a wry smile. "Looked like you could use some help on the news."

Kara grins back. "I love you."

Lex laboriously clambers to his feet, the movement made cumbersome by his smoking exosuit. He glares at them.

"Lena-- sister. Fancy seeing you here."

"Likewise," Lena retorts.

Lex's eyes lock on the magical fire between Lena's palms, and glint with interest.

"It seems you might have something special after all," he delivers. He stands, booted feet clanking against the roof. "Join me, Lena. We are blood, after all. Together we can--"

A second fireball collides with his chest, and the suit's faceplate clangs shut just in time to avoid a faceful of fire.

"Your blood means nothing to me," Lena declares, her voice strong and sure.

Lex scowls menacingly. "Then you'll die with the rest."

With that, his faceplate snaps shut and he shoots off into the air. Before Kara takes off after him, she looks at Lena to check in. Lena nods.

"Keep him busy."

Kara obeys, chasing Lex around the city, landing whatever blows she can. As she does, the wind picks up around her, quickly gathering into a fury. She struggles to stay on course, and sees Lex do the same as Lena builds up a veritable hurricane. Soon a driving rain pelts Kara's skin, stinging her as she flies across the city.

Clouds gather overhead, dark and menacing. As thunder begins roll, Kara understands what Lena is about to do. In an instant she changes tack-- instead of chasing Lex, she begins to herd him back towards Lena as the pressure around them builds.

When LexCorp comes back into view, Kara delivers a mighty kick that sends Lex careening towards his own building. Just as he rights himself before impact, Kara sees Lena lift her hand and bring it down in a fist. As she does, an arc of lightning flashes down with a deafening crack as it connects with the helm of the Lexosuit.

Almost as soon as the first bolt dissipates, another strikes Lex again, and again and again. The blinding light sears across Kara's retinas, forcing her to close her eyes until the brilliance fades and she hears the Lexosuits thrusters sputter and fail.

She opens her eyes to see Lex drop like so much stone. She catches him suit and all, the still smoking hull hot in her hands. When she deposits him on the roof, Kara reaches down to wrench the faceplate off.

One look at Lex's features confirms what Kara already suspects: dead.

She looks up at Lena, who comes to stare down of the corpse who was briefly her unwanted brother. Features solemn, Lena swallows thickly, but remorse is absent from her eyes.

"He can't hurt anyone else."

It's all Lena says.

When Clark learns of Lex's death, he looks at Lena with suspicion and trepidation. Lena remains indifferent to it, but Kara stays close, a buffer against her cousin's heavy judgement. He may not kill, but Kara knows that Lena has done what was necessary to ensure no one else would fall victim to Lex's schemes. Diana, too, understands, and does nothing more than place a hand on Lena's shoulder.

"You should not be here when the authorities arrive," Diana warns gently.

Lena nods, turning to Kara. "Take me home?"

Only then does Clark speak. "I'm afraid we have some questions for you, Miss....."

"None of your business," Lena returns smoothly.

Clark bristles. "But--"

"I am not beholden to you or whatever organizations you work with, Superman," Lena continues. "I prefer to keep it that way."

"You can't just--"

"Leave it, Kal," Kara bites out.

Shocked by her growl, Clark takes a step back, visiblt deflating. The tension in Kara's shoulders only ease when Lena takes her hand. Kara gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Let's go."

#supercorp #kara prince au #the climax #a bit of a longer snippet #but still good #hope you like it #lemme know!

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bardicious · 3 months

Text

Nightwing (2016) #110

All adorable Damian moments.

#A Robin Triumphs on Mount Olympia #dc comics #comics #damian wayne #robin #nightwing #jon kent #so far this is the best cute damian moments I can find - Im moving backwards for nightwing #you get how crazy that is?#this whole fucking issue is worse than a majority of fanfics #like??? WHAT??#its basically a giant meme - I hate this place - imma keep bitching in the tags as a treat for myself #hope you like the little damian snippets - I tried looking for comic panels on tumblr #and it did NOT work out #no one was posting shit - which fair #half the people in the fanart area are coping and stuck in 2009-2013 #much like myself

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thebest-medicine · 5 months

Text

Lustige Geschichten

..a Crit-mas Story for @amazingmsme for Squealing Santa 2k23!!

A/N: Happy Holidays, Merry Chrysler, and Happy Critmas to the amazing @amazingmsme!!!!!! I absolutely loved all your prompts so I tried to combine a few, I hope you enjoy this lovely holiday gift! 💚 (and shout-out to @hypahticklish for organizing and coordinating and presiding over this year’s @squealing-santa)

Critical Role - Mighty Nein - ticklish!Caleb, featuring an assortment of very mean, lovely friends (most of the Nein)

[AO3 Link]

Words: 6.8k

Summary: Jester enjoys a nice story time, and Caleb, despite himself, has a fun evening under the persistent affection of his friends. Errrrybody hops on the tickle-the-wizard-out-of-his-keen-mind train.

...

Caleb stretches his back a bit uncomfortably as he shifts in the wooden chair, having spent the last few hours in more or less the same spot —posture curled forward around the desk.

A cheerful, curious little ‘murrp’ catches his ear. He glances over to find one of the tower cats, Rudi, strolling toward him.

“Mm, guten Abend, Rudi.”

Rudi trots over and rubs up against his legs. His whiskers tickle at Caleb’s ankle.

He smiles, eyes still on his book.

The light, fluffy feeling trails away a few moments later when Rudi pads over to the nearby sofa in the study outside Caleb’s bedroom. Rudi circles a few times before plopping himself down comfortably on a cushion. He ‘mrrow’s and chirrups a few times, tail flicking impatiently as he looks over at the wizard.

“You know, if you wanted some attention you could go find Jester, you know how she loves to cuddle with you at night.”

Rudi meows and rolls over, rubbing his head into the couch cushions.

A few more minutes pass, not without an array of ‘meow’s calling to him, inviting him over.

Caleb exhales, blowing a loose wisp of hair out of his face. “Mmm. You are making it rather hard to concentrate.”

Rudi responds in kind with a trill, rolling back onto his belly. He stretches, then flops onto his other side again in a move to beckon the wizard over to the soft cushions next to him on the couch. He purrs loudly, and then lets out another trilling meow, looking expectantly at Caleb.

“Very well then.” Caleb sighs. “But I’m bringing my book.”

Rudi wiggles, baring his belly as Caleb sits down, a fair bit more comfortable than the wooden chair. Caleb holds up his book in one hand and pats Rudi with the other. He still often denies himself comfort and kindness out of habit — but, it can be nice to be pushed into it by friends (and cats) around you.

“Thank you for the company.” Rudi’s resonating purr sends a wave of calm through Caleb where the cat is pressed up to his hand and thigh.

“Hiiiii. You guys look cozy. Room for one more?” With a colorful blur and twirl around the corner into the doorway, Jester arrives on the scene, a cheerful smile apparent in her voice as she says. “Hey, Caleb.”

Caleb hums in acknowledgement, turning the page in his book. “Hallo, Jester.” He says it without looking up, a dusting of pink on his cheeks at his unexpected guest.

In a few strides, the blue figure in his peripheral gets closer until he feels the couch dip next to him on the opposite side of where Rudi is curled up. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

Jester harrumphs, shouldering against him with a pout. “A book about what?”

Caleb fights off a smile. He is already thoroughly distracted —so he’s made peace with ending his studies early.

He pretends to turn the page and continue reading, and Jester lets out a whine in a pitch befitting Sprinkle.

He lets her fester a few moments longer before he answers, failing to fully fight off his smile. “Just some texts on Pre-Calamity Exandria I borrowed from Essek’s library— well, it delves into some history as well as specifics on the spells and magic of the time, the ideas behind it, and the history of uses within various schools of the arcane.”

“Oh..” She scrunches up her nose. “I wanted to see if I could read with you. But that sounds pret-ty bo-ring.”

He hums in acknowledgement.

Jester’s tail lashes side to side, impatient and bored —two qualities that, when found in her, tend to lead to an afternoon of mischief.

She sighs dramatically, leans her head on Caleb’s shoulder to look at the book.

Caleb hums again, turning the page.

“If I find you something more… fun to read… would you read it to me and Rudi?” She asks a few beats later.

Caleb’s eyes flick sideways to her, a soft smile on his lips. “Ja, sure, of course.” He turns the page. “None of your smut, though.” He adds, fighting down a smirk.

She sticks out her tongue, and he has the good graces not to call her on it.

Getting up and roaming about his bookshelves, she begins. “Okay, okay. What’s a good one— ummm.. Let me look!”

Caleb marks the page in his text as Jester fingers through his books.

“Oh how about this one! Look at this guy, he’s so scary!” She makes a face, holding up the book. There’s a tall figure with wild, wiry, mad-scientist looking hair sprouting in every direction from his head — his face outstretched in a foul scream. His fingernails are longer than his hands themselves, and scatter, crooked, every which way from his hands.

“Ah, that’s a Zemnian children’s classic.” Caleb sits fully upright on the couch, closing his book.

Jester laughs out loud at that. “This is for kids?”

He sets his book down on the table beside him. “Ja. Der Struwwelpeter.”

Jester bounds over with a giggle, repeating the title in a silly imitation of Caleb’s accent. She plops down and quickly snuggles into the corner of the couch, then turns to Caleb, making grabby hands in his direction.

His cheeks flush a little — as they always do in the face of such open affections — as he leans to sit closer to her on the couch. It’s not a moment before he feels her arm loop around his shoulders.

“Oh— hi, ok.” Caleb lets out a nervous little laugh as she draws him closer. Rudi stands with a stretch.

“I wanna see the pictures- here, like this!”

She shifts him, which he allows with a tired smile, until she’s laying against the arm of the couch and he is dragged back against her, back to chest, his legs over hers up on the couch cushions. Her head comes to rest gently on the mop of his orange hair.

“Perfect! Are you comfy?” Jester asks brightly.

Caleb snorts a little, settling in to his new position practically lying down on the couch. He pretends to be a bit put out, but sighs and stretches one leg out and it bumps into the other arm of the couch. He puts one ankle up on the arm and bends the other leg at the knee, getting comfortable. Rudi find himself a comfortable spot across Caleb’s thighs and plops down, continuing to purr.

“Alright, well let’s see,” he brushes off the cover. “‘Der Struwwelpeter, oder lustige Geschichten und drollige Bilder von Dr. Heinrich Hoffmann’ — this book is a compilation of funny children’s tales and illustrations.” He explains.

“Which word means ‘funny’?”

“It’s this word here, ‘lustig’.” Caleb points to the cover.

“Lustige,” she reads and then laughs.

He reads each of the two first pages in their original form, a cadence coming to his lips at the familiar text. She doesn’t understand what the words all mean, but it still sounds lovely, like an old song from far away.

Then, the story putters to a stop as he pauses to explain to her what it says.

He continues this way, reading, explaining, reading, explaining, holding up the book so Jester can look more closely at the pictures, scrutinizing.

A few pages deep, when he finishes the Zemnian, she suggests. “Hm.. When you tell me what it says… Can you do it in a silly voice?”

“Um-” Caleb is a master of changing many things, but his accent is not one of them. He laughs again, a little sheepish. “Okay…”

He clears his throat and then —in a terrible, silly imitation of Jester— he explains what the passage says in Common.

Jester laughs in delight and follows along.

She ooh’s and ahh’s as Caleb reads each of the next pages in Zemnian and then explains what it says in his decidedly silly voice.

Jester lets out a gasp at the next turn of the page. “Oohhhh my gosh, Caleb, it’s the guy from the front, look at his nails.” She grins, observing the full page of artwork depicting a large child —or, maybe, a small man— with wild hair that looked like it had just taken a bit too much lightning damage, and with fingernails grown out much longer than his fingers. They stretch wildly across the page.

Caleb huffs out a little laugh. “Mmhm.”

And then, because she is Jester, she continues. “Don’t you think they would be..” She brings her own nails up to trace gently along the shell of his ears. “Reaaaaally tickly?”

A shiver runs down his spine. “Heh- ja, yes.” Caleb shakes his head a little, brushing off the flutter in his chest and flare of embarrassment. He takes one of his hands off of the book to swat at her hands. “You would love them, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I really would…” She smiles and wiggles a bit. “I would use them for so many pranks.. ooh and tickle fights. Oh, I would win every time.”

Caleb’s hand has successfully deterred her fingers from his neck.

But, he notes with a shiver, she just reaches down to pinch at his sides a few times instead.

He squirms, readjusting. “You don’t need any extra help. You already do.” His elbows don’t quite clamp down to his sides, but come down enough to gently push her teasing fingers away.

Caleb feels the energy of the evening beginning to shift. There’s something flittering about inside him at that, but he presses on with the task, and the conversation, at hand.

But, a few more pokes and Caleb’s arms press down harder on instinct. “Jester— the book..” He reminds her, voice light with almost-laughter.

The cat shifts in his lap, giving Caleb a look that perhaps on a human would look annoyed.

Jester pulls her hands away from his sides, but quickly redoubles her efforts back up on the side of his neck, quick and gentle. “Mmm. Right, right. Tell me more about ‘dar Schtruvvelpater’.”

“Hey- ehe- hey.” He snorts again, scrunching his neck. “Would you stop it— I-I’m trying to read to you.” His voice is light, fluttering, and it cracks with a laugh around the words —it all comes out a little more high pitched than he intended.

Jester lets out a whine, clearly wanting to continue both. “You can keep reading!” She giggles, pinching down his shoulders and around to the backs of his armpits.

“But—” He pleads, but then Jester’s hands are down around the bottoms of his ribs again. “Ah! Je- Jester I can’t—” He chokes out, snickering and wobbling back and forth between her pokes on either side of his rib cage. His elbows squeeze against his sides, trying in vain to protect himself while maintaining his hold on the novel.

Rudi yowls at them, indignant, and turns to plop up onto the back of the couch, curling up in the middle.

“Oh sorry Rudi!” She chuckles. “But, seriously Caleb—it’s fine, I don’t mind if you laugh!” Jester adds, and wiggles her fingers around and over his stomach.

Laugh he does, pressing the book against his middle in a poor attempt at defense. His arms do their best to attempt to cover a few of his weak spots, but Jester doesn’t seem to mind the obstacle, easily finding others. She tuts at him and crawls her hands back up his sides.

Jester’s fingers work their way up and then jump to his neck again. Caleb clings to the book for dear life, pulling it up to cover his face as he fights a continuous, losing battle with the giggles that Jester is keen to draw out of him.

“Wait— hehe wait I- heh- I thought you wanted— aha- ah— y-you wanted me to read to you!” Laughter cracks through every word, climbing to the surface like weeds sprouting forth between the bricks of a worn path.

“Well I did—I do, but now—” She shifts her legs, wiggling to get them out from underneath Caleb and then wrapping them around his middle to block him in against her chest and the couch. “I thought of something else I wanna listen to.”

Caleb cackles when Jester scribbles, unexpected and intently, over his lowest ribs. “Sch-scheiße! Oh noho- ahaHA NAHA-NEIN JESTER!” He nearly squirms out of her grasp, giggling and chasing her hands with his elbows —but, he’s no match for her leg muscles —plus, he’s still trying to hold onto the book.

He just about jumps out of his skin when he suddenly picks up a green figure in his field of vision —Fjord, who somehow made it halfway across the room without Caleb’s notice. Shit.

Blushing further, the wizard closes his eyes and tries to hide his face between Jester’s shoulder and the couch. “No— don’t!” Caleb squeals between laughs as Fjord approaches.

“What are you two doing in here, hmm?” Fjord asks casually.

Caleb shivers, envisioning the grin on his face. He sucks in a breath and clamps his mouth shut, convinced that maybe he can avoid getting someone else involved if he holds it together—if he just doesn’t laugh again for the next few seconds.

“He’s reading me a story!” Jester responds, chipper.

“Oh, that sounds nice.” And then, closer. “Can I listen too? How can I help?”

Caleb’s heart spins in a swirl of excitement and giddiness and nerves. “Nooooohoho.” He responds, unable to hold back the giggles from his words.

“Shh— I wasn’t asking you.” Fjord scolds.

Caleb whines, a little indignant, with a laugh into the crook of his elbow.

“Oh I know!” Jester gathers excitedly, pointedly ignoring Caleb. “I’ll hold the book and turn the pages, and you can hold his hands because they are probably, like- so, so tired from holding the book up this whole time, hmm?” She nuzzles against Caleb’s ear then, teasing. “Right Caleb?”

Caleb squirms, his legs kicking against the couch. “Mmmmf nooooo—”

“Great idea, Jes.” Fjord answers just as Caleb chokes out another desperate little sound of protest as he breaks down into laughter.

“Here, give me this.” Jester commands, ceasing her light, tickling pokes and reaching to take the book from Caleb’s hands.

He shakes his head, curling his upper body inward protectively. “Nohohoo—” Caleb cries as she pokes at his neck with one finger, bringing his hands back in toward his face.

Fjord’s hands wrap —firm and unyielding as any proper sailor’s knot— around Caleb’s small wrists.

Caleb keens forward desperately with a high pitched laugh, and Jester pulls the book the rest of the way from his grip. “There we go! Okay, okay, now then...”

Jester holds the book up above them, flipping to the page they left off on. Meanwhile, Fjord, standing beside the couch, gently tows Caleb’s shaky arms up over red and blue mops of hair.

Caleb giggles, a few anxious little sounds of anticipation making their way out in between. He tugs weakly at his arms as he is brought back down against Jester’s chest. “Hnnnmf— Fjord,” His voice is light, nervous. “W-wait—”

“Can you see okay? Keep reading, keep reading, go on!” Jester draws the book in toward his face.

A few quick, giddy breaths, and then he manages to read the next line of text between little laughs, his voice shaky, before it’s cut off with a squeal. “und die —CH AHH AHA HAH— NEIN!” Jester has one hand off of the book and wiggles her fingers, close but not quite touching, just above his rib cage. He shakes his head. “Don’t- don’t tease! Bihihitte!”

“Ha!” Fjord laughs at that, squeezing at Caleb’s wrists gently in comfort. “Oh? You’re asking Jester? Not to tease?”

Caleb whimpers, shaking his head more. “I- I..”

Jester grins, pulling her hand even further away and dexterously wiggling her fingers at him. “If I was ‘dare Schtruvel Peter’ I could tickle you from all the way up here!”

“Jester—” Caleb sounds like he’s about to die, his voice strangled.

“Are you gonna keep reading or are we just gonna have to put the book down and focus on tickling you?” She asks, a faux impatience in her voice.

“No! HA NEIN DON’T! Please— I can’t!”

“Sure you can, go on then!” Jester teases, her fingers wiggling threateningly above his rib cage.

Caleb shrieks and hides his head against his shoulder again.

“Alright… well, I guess you’ll have to finish the story later, then.” Jester sighs. “Fjord, can you—” She moves the book up over Caleb’s head, wiggling it in the air.

“No wahahait! Wait—” Caleb shakes his head, trying to wriggle his arms free.

One of Caleb’s wrists is released so that Fjord can safely grab the old book and set it next to his other discarded pile on the table beside the couch. Immediately, the freed arm shoots down and presses against his side, blocking his ribs and armpit from Jester’s teasing. His hand then comes up to cover his red face.

“Oh no you dont.” Fjord says with a sternness as he grips Caleb’s wrist once again, gentle but strong, and pries it up away from his face.

Caleb struggles, he fights him on it with a smile on his face, despite his show of protest.

Well, he struggles for all of three seconds before Jester pinches at the soft spot just under his ribs twice and Caleb flails, melting, and his already limited strength is rendered useless. Fjord gets both arms comfortably back up and pinned and leans over, smirking down at them. “Does that book have any stories about……… tickle monsters?”

“Nein—” He snorts, giggles coming out faster as Jester wiggles both hands toward and away from his prone middle, never quite touching. “But I- I think I could heh—send in ideas for their nehehext publication.”

Fjord agrees with a hum. She is rather terrifying.

“What’s that called in Zemnian, hmm Caleb?” Fjord asks.

“Ehehe— what?”

“Yeah, yeah! How do you say ‘the tickle monster’!” Jester asks excitedly.

He thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. “Hehe it would.. it would be ‘das Kitzelmonster’—” He snickers as he says it, blushing a bit more.

“Aww, that’s so cute. ‘Das Kitz el Monstar’.” Jester pokes at his ribs, whispering a quick, teasing ‘kitz kitz kitz kitz’ with each poke.

As soon as she does this, Caleb jolts. He realizes, too late, that he’s just supplied a new and dangerous fuel for the already devastatingly effective teases they both are. His back rockets up and away from Jester, face flushing hot. “Staha- stop- no! N-HNN DOHOHON’T!” His legs kick up and in toward his middle, but are blocked by Jester’s legs wrapped around him.

With nowhere else to go, they start kicking wildly into the air and at the couch. “BITTE! Don’t— don’t say that!” His voice cracks on a loud laugh, neck and ears red hot with embarrassment.

Jester is known for her teasing and taking apart of defenses, and she’s unmistakably the resident tickle monster of the group. She’s tickled and teased Caleb more times than she can count. He is always a sucker for it —never fails to make things a little worse, a little more sensitive, a little more effective.

But, this time, she notices, he seems even more desperate to get away from the teasing. “Aww, I know how much you looooove it when we talk about how ticklish you are…”

“B-Bitte— HAHA DON’T— don’t!” Caleb wails.

“Is it even wooooorse when I say it in Zemnian? Heehee! What was it? Kitzelmonster? Kitzel? Aww are you too kitz-kitz-kitzel-ish Caleb?” She scratches gently at his sides.

Caleb does his best impression of a contortionist, wailing and struggling against her in a way that seems more keen to actually get away than just for show.

“Did the Kitzelmonster get ya?” She giggles.

He’s taken much harder — and much worse — tickling before, and never reacted quite so viscerally to teasing. Jester feels an evil, delighted little twist in her stomach at the knowledge.

“Eheehee no! HAHA JESTER— Please!! N-not that —don’t say it! Mist, stop it —please.”

“HMMMMmm.” She ponders loudly, gently fitting one unmoving fingertip after another into the grooves of his ribs. With his squirming, he’s essentially tickling himself at this point. “How about… if you ask me to tickle you, I’ll stop saying how cute and kitz kitz kitzel-ish you are!”

“NEIN!” Caleb shouts, indignant.

“I’ll even give you a little break first if you ask nice!” She offers with a laugh. “Because like, you kinda seem like you’re gonna die.”

He says nothing, just laughs and shakes his head.

“Okay then.” He feels her shrug underneath him. Her hands pull away from his ribs.

He takes a nervous, shaky breath —just in time for her fingers to walk up to Caleb’s rib cage under his shirt instead and start doing something very fast and very effective.

He shrieks and breaks into desperate cackles. His laughter pitches up to a scream —and, just as quickly, she pulls her hands back out from under his shirt.

“Now, wanna try that again?” She opens and closes her hands like little claws, a few inches above Caleb’s sides. “Or do you want me to keep talking about how kitz-kitz-kitzel-ish poor little ticklish kitzel-ish Caleb is?”

Caleb shakes his head with a surprising voracity, his body flailing and jolting. Fjord nearly loses his grip on Caleb’s wrists.

Still not touching him, she wiggles her fingers, and Caleb laughs as though her claws are already taking him apart.

“BITTE— NEIN!” He pleads. “AHA— STAHOP!”

She persists, voice dark and scary. “Oh nooooo, Caleb! The Kitzelmonster’s almost got you! And it brought its fri-ends!”

As she speaks, teasing and throwing in every silly variation she can of the word that she can think of.

Her voice gets quieter from Fjord’s perspective as she leans in close and continues, whispering into Caleb’s bright red ear.

Jester teases in a way that should be outlawed, truly a cruel and unusual punishment. It’s— he’s… laughing and squirming so hard already, and- and no one’s even tickling him right now.

Tears in his eyes, face red and blotchy, Caleb eventually whimpers out —his voice desperate, breathless, “Jester- enough, STOP stop- stop saying it, plehehehehease! Okay! Okay— ehehe! Stop!” He groans. “Just- just tickle meheHEHEEHEE—”

Her fingers zip in to do just that as Jester giggles triumphantly. “By the way, next time we do this, I’m gonna make you tell me how to ask for it in Zemnian.” She adds casually.

Through silly giggles, he asks. “NE-NEIN- Jester, ahaha, wh-why?” His eyes flutter shut.

Fjord laughs, the sound radiating warmth into Caleb’s skin. “She really is an evil little ‘Kitzelmonster’, isn’t she?”

“Fjord!” Jester scolds with a giggle as Caleb lets out a pathetic squeal in protest at his words.

Caleb’s legs fly into the air, kicking at imaginary targets yet too uncoordinated to hit even those. His laughter rings out loudly in the room as Jester pokes and scritches under his arms.

“You look like you’re ready to try out for the circus.”

The sudden appearance of Mollymauk’s voice sends a chill down Caleb’s spine.

His head snaps over to confirm that, yes, Molly is leaning casually in the doorway. Smile on his face. Mischief in his eyes. Fingers twitchy in a way he gets when he really wants something (and that ‘something’, often, is to draw lovely laughter from those close to him).

“But really, Caleb, you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep floundering about like that.”

“Hi Molly! Oh, you’re right. I did say I’d give him a break,” Jester smiles, bringing her hands down to rest on his thighs, not tickling.

Caleb’s deep breath out is fizzling with anxious snickers. “Ehehehe M-Mollymauk.. Molly. Molly—” How long has he been standing there?

“Yes?” Molly purrs, drawing into the room.

Caleb looks up at the ceiling, whimpers. “Please,” a breath, “you’ll— ehe they’ll— you’re killing mehehehee.”

“I’m killing you? Ha. Well. It’s a good thing Jester’s close by.” Molly smirks, then, dramatically winces with a waiver of his hand. “Mm. Well, I bet Caduceus isn’t far anyway.”

“Hey! Rude!” Jester shifts to stick her tongue out at Molly. “Anyway. Don’t you think he’s had enough of a break? Go get his feet!”

“What? No wait! But you barely—” Caleb cries out, drawing his legs as close to his chest as possible.

“You bet-ter put those back down…” Jester threatens, tracing featherlight circles into the skin of his sides, just under his shirt.

“No!” Caleb wails in protest. His flailing kicks begin anew.

Well, if he’s going to be stubborn about it… Molly strolls to the other end of the couch, chuckles, and then, like a cat watching a flock of birds, begins batting at Caleb’s legs and dodging kicks, hunting for the perfect in.

Uncoordinated, tickled, and giddy with laughter, Caleb doesn’t make it long before Molly’s towing one of his ankles down to the end of the couch with a victorious snicker.

“Got one!”

His other leg keeps kicking wildly, still unclaimed.

There’s a mixture of Common and Zemnian (or at least an attempt at them) in between loud, boisterous, shrieking laughs as Molly swipes a finger up and down his sole.

Jester moves her fingers up, two on each side, scritching lightly into Caleb’s armpits.

Meanwhile, Molly fully disregards the free foot in order to devote his focus to holding down Caleb’s ankle and wiggling more fingers under scrunched toes.

Molly gets a claw under and between some just as Jester adds more fingers to his underarms, and Caleb makes a sound so loud and desperate that he’s glad —somewhere in his mind where he can remember to be— that they is in his tower and not in the middle of a tavern room, surrounded by other rooms, with people around.

In the moment, he fails to consider, however, that there are in fact still people in the tower.

Caleb’s not thinking about that, though. In fact, he’s not thinking about much at all right now, other than how badly this tickles.

“You have ten seconds to put your other leg down, or I’m gonna have Molly come up here and help me get your ribs.” Jester offers as a threat, pausing her tickling, as does Mollymauk.

A beat of silence aside from quavering laughter, then Caleb asks. “Wh-when… when did you become so evil?”

Jester giggles. “Always been!” And then she blows a raspberry on his neck.

“AAAII— OKAY!”

She stops —and then, denying his better instincts, Caleb brings his other leg down shakily. He allows Molly to wrap both ankles up in the crook of his elbow.

The free purple hand wiggles delightedly, a few inches away from the trapped soles before him. He looks back over his shoulder at Caleb —who looks absolutely lovely when he’s devastated in this way.

Caleb protests without any conviction. “This is— very unfair.”

Jester pokes down his rib cage and over to his tummy.

“Plehe— oh nohoh-AHA haha noooo—” Caleb squirms, his head rolling back with laughter.

Just then, she starts to lightly spider her fingers over his stomach, while Molly does the same technique, alternating over each foot. Fjord watches each of them fondly, Jester clearly having the time of her life — she really is a ‘Kitzelmonster’. They take turns, not wanting to completely overwhelm the tired, scrawny wizard, with Molly and Jester each watching the other and commenting on Caleb’s reactions.

When Caleb opens his blurry eyes again, a few minutes and endless laughs later, he sees Veth, looming over the back of the couch next to a curled up Rudi. She gives him a smug, knowing little smile. It can be intense, electric, unbearable at times —being tickled —but Caleb has confessed under the influence of alcohol and ticklish duress that he doesn’t hate — or even enjoys, much to his chagrin — the opportunities that come up in his life for his brain to slow down and fog up a little bit, til there is no room for guilt and worry. He is in (many) good hands, after all. But, it’s nice to know she knows, she’ll be there, she’ll help take him apart a little too, if she likes, and, eventually, she’ll help reign in the tieflings if he needs her to.

Caleb can’t hold her gaze for long, his eyes close just as Jester’s fingers start poking into his sides repeatedly.

A moment later he gasps, curling his head and neck sideways at the first flutter of a light, fluffy edge of a feather along the shell of his ear.

“Ehe- staha— Veheheheth!” Caleb stutters out through laughter. He attempts a peak at her and finds one of her feather-fall feathers held neatly in her mage hand, twirling about just beside his head. “Ahaha— nein!”

“What is this? You guys threw a wreck-the-wizard party without me?” Beau’s voice cuts through the already overwhelmed sensory input in Caleb’s brain.

His voice is shrill, desperate in response. “No— hehehe nononono— Beheheheaureagard! Aha gehehehet out of hehehere! NOHOHOHO!”

“Oh, please. Don’t bother.” Beau’s response is rippling with smug laughter as she waves dismissively at him.

Caleb soon becomes aware of a hand wrapping around his shins a few moments after she speaks. He curses between laughs and hopelessly tries again to kick his legs.

Beau moves one arm behind his legs and squeezes at his calf muscle once, twice, an attempted scolding for his jolts and kicks of protest. Caleb shrieks. Everyone freezes — it almost feels as though time stops for a moment.

Caleb yelps when she does it again, his breath sucking in a half-second later.

Jester peaks over Caleb’s shoulder. “Oooh, what did you do?” Her hands idle over Caleb’s sides.

Molly looks over his shoulder, smug and grinning. “Look— I knew your knees were bad… but.”

“Looks like someone’s a little ticklish here.” Beau smirks, letting out a little evil laugh. She squeezes the back of Caleb’s leg again, a few inches below his knee.

“No!” He cries out, laughing. “Dohohon’t—”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? Laugh?” Beau snickers and begins squeezing the back of each of his legs, up and down the calf muscles. She kneels down beside the couch, finding the perfect angle. Meanwhile, Molly keeps Caleb’s ankles locked up in a solid, tight hold, enjoying the show.

Caleb wails out a few more wheezy protests between cackles as Beau tickles up and down his legs. “Don’t! Beauhoho— hahaha stAHAHOP!”

Jester wriggles underneath him as she repositions and trails her hands down.. down.. down as far as she can, lightly tickling down his ribs and sides as she goes, squeezing his hips, past where her own legs are wrapped around his middle. She reaches out, grabbing in the air at Beau’s hands —fingers still a decent distance from tickling anywhere near his calves or knees. “Ha! You’re ticklish everywhere Caleb!” Jester giggles into his ear.

“Yeah, how’d you manage to hide this spot from us for so long?” Beau asks. “Are your legs this sensitive all the way up and down?” She pinches at the backs of his ankles all the way up to his knees, then continues up, squeezing around his thighs.

“Ehehe- no! Leheheheheave them alone!” Caleb cries.

“Not a chance, man- ha! They so are— look at you!” She pinches at a spot a few inches below his knee that gets him kicking — or, well, trying his best to. “You’re fucking ridiculous!” She laughs.

Caleb lets out a noise somewhere between a snort and a plea. His laughter and thrashing continue to grow frantic.

Beau leans against the couch and wraps Caleb’s knees up in one arm. She pinches and squeezes the backs of his calves with her free hand, a smug grin on her face.

Mollymauk’s tail joins her hand and tries to wiggle against the backs of his legs and knees. Meanwhile, his fingers keep up a quick tempo fluttering across Caleb’s wiggling feet.

“Eeheehee whahahahah-why are you tryhihing to kill mehehehee!?” Caleb cries out.

Jester watches delightedly as Beau and Molly drive him up the wall. She holds tight with her legs as he squirms and wriggles, desperate for escape.

“Aww, you say that like it’s a bad thing!” Jester answers him, wiggling her fingers in a tease a few inches above his armpits. “We wouldn’t do it if you weren’t having fun!”

Caleb turns somehow even more red at that and lets out a pathetic little peal of laughter in response to her teasing.

Veth’s mage hand moves down to start poking at his top rib just under his armpit on the side nearest the couch.

“Ehe— no! Neihihein! Bitte!” He squirms to the side, only to meet Jester’s finger on the other side.

Molly and Beau pause to rearrange a bit, trying to figure out the best way to hold his legs while also watching his helpless little squirms.

Caleb sputters out giggles and half-worded pleas.

Jester ponders aloud. “I should probably call Yasha and Caduceus… I feel like they’re going to be preeeeeetty bummed if they miss this. I know I would be.”

“No— no!” Caleb squeaks.

Molly wiggles a finger up and down Caleb’s arch while Beau squeezes just above his knee.

“Ugh. You’re right, Caleb. There’s barely any room for us. You need to make the couch in here bigger next time you bring up the tower.” Jester chastises, poking at his side in light, random patterns. “There’s not enough room for everyone.”

Caleb whimpers into his bicep through laughter.

“I have an idea..” Fjord grins, transferring Caleb’s wrists to one hand and reaching down with the other to squeeze and tickle at both his and Jester’s sides below.

Caleb cackles with a renewed desperation, while Jester cries out. “Hehehee- hey! Hah-” She gasps in fake offense before breaking into giggles.

“Let’s move ‘im to the bed.” Fjord finishes his thought with a few pokes under Caleb’s arm.

“Mmmf— nooooo heh—” Caleb protests weakly, his face tingling with a happy, giddy silliness —sweet and warm under his skin like fresh honey.

Fjord releases his wrists and reaches down with both hands, and —easily besting the now flailing arms— hooks his hands underneath Caleb’s shoulders and around to his armpits. He lifts up. Caleb squeals. Fjord wiggles his fingers a bit. Caleb makes some kind of choked laugh.

Then Caleb is shaking his head more fervently as Beau reaches to lift him under his knees. Mollymauk releases his ankles with a grin.

“Bitte, you-you’ve had your fun! Y-you’re killing me! Mercy!” Caleb pleads, his eyes wide as Beau and Fjord make quick work of lifting him up.

He scrambles for any sort of anchor or purchase —a steady moore out in the sea of giddiness and laughter he’s found himself caught and floating in.

“Hey!” Almost on cue, a familiar sensation of Jester’s claws make their reappearance on his sides. “That’s mine! Give him back!” She scolds.

“NAHA— ehehehee, don’t!” Caleb can’t stop himself from squirming and flinching away as Jester’s fingers prod and tickle at the wizard above her.

She snickers, delighted, and her fingers follow along for as long as she can reach him. Noticing this, Fjord and Beau seem to take an extra long time moving him up and away from the couch —and out of tiefling range —over to the bed.

Finally, he’s out of Jester’s range. His breath comes in shakily as they deposit him gently on his mattress. He’s red-faced, tears welling up in his eyes with a few running messily down his cheeks. His eyes are squeezed shut to hide from the scrutiny and knowing smiles of his companions above.

“Hee- oh nohoho—” Caleb whimpers with a smile. He reaches up with a shaky hand and grips one of his pillows, dragging it down over his head to shove his burning face into.

“Aww, Caleb! Are you hiding from us?” Jester’s voice alone draws an extra giggle from him behind his pillow.

Caleb shakes his head behind the pillow.

“Come onnnnn, where’s that smile?” The mattress sinks as she climbs onto it near him.

“Nooooooo..” Caleb whimpers, wrapping both arms around the pillow and smushing it tighter against his face. It doesn’t do much to muffle his anticipatory laughter.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Jester scoffs. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Caleb’s legs kick at that, drumming against the bed as it dips a few more times —Molly and Veth, he concludes, since Jester is already looming next to him and Fjord and Beau still have hands on his shoulders and knees.

“Alright, come on, let’s get him already!” Beau declares impatiently.

“Ah, I love the spirit, Beauregard, but it can be so much fun to drag it out —build him up, topple him over…” Molly traces a delicate nail down Caleb’s chest. Caleb shivers deliciously. The claw lifts away.

Jester snickers. “We already tickled him like soooo much on the couch, Molly, he’s already all mush-brain. Come on!”

“Oh alright —you’re right, you’re right.” Molly shrugs, crawling his way up to Caleb’s other side.

Caleb wails into the pillow when two sets of tiefling claws touch down gently over his midriff with purpose, leaving teasing trails down his sides and over his stomach and lowest ribs. “Mmpppph- n- nahaha- oh nohohoho— eheh oh dohohohon’t! Bitte! Mmmf-aha ahahaha! Please— please!”

Fjord leans down, taking Caleb’s hands with ease into his own and pulling them up over his head. He adjusts, laying on the bed while keeping Caleb’s arms trapped against the mattress. He shifts the pillow over and off of him so that he can get in close to Caleb’s pink face, then nuzzles into the side of his hair.

“Mmm. It’s too bad I can’t use my hands.”

Caleb feels some quiet relief at that. Maybe a little disappointment too, but he doesn’t have the wherewithal to focus on that.

Still, some sliver of Caleb’s mind registers the rumbling chuckle Fjord gives as dangerous as he continues. “—I guess I’ll have to improvise, then.”

Caleb’s voice catches in his throat as Fjord’s words take on meaning just in time for lips and scruff to brush right up against Caleb’s ear.

“Eeheehee- ah! Yeehehehee- you— aha- no NO plehease!”

“Aww, he’s soooooo cute!” Jester squeaks with a few pinches to his ribs.

Caleb jolts under them with a whine. “Ha- aha I- noooo— I’m —ahahaha I’m not!”

“Yes! Yes you are!” She pinches his cheek just as Fjord sucks in a breath. Helpful little Kitzelmonster she is, Jester brushes Caleb’s hair away from the side of his neck.

“Nein!” Caleb cries as the breath comes out as a vibrating, ticklish, raspberry on his neck.

Caleb is soon lost to cackling laughter as Molly and Jester prod and tickle at his middle while Fjord mouths along his neck and ear. And it isn’t too long before he registers two sets of blunt nails —Beau and Veth, his mind helpfully provides— that have touched down on his feet. He doesn’t even try to kick beyond the instinctive flinching away —he knows he’s not going anywhere.

The feeling— a mindless bliss not unlike that of an evening spent polymorphed —builds slowly. But, soon enough, Caleb’s mind feels light, unbothered and untethered, as his thoughts swirl and spark with the ticklish input from what seemed like every nerve. There is a… a warmth that accompanies it, one that Caleb comfortably slips into with a strange familiarity as though it is where he had always belonged.

Jester’s voice cuts through the sound of Caleb’s laughter as she begins her sending spell. “Hey, Yasha? Are you with Caduceus—” Fjord briefly gets a panicked look in his eye as she starts, jerking his head back and realizing he can’t count her words out as easily. He taps his fingers into the skin of Caleb’s wrists one at a time in counting as she continues, “you guys should come up to Caleb’s room, we’re having a lot of fun! Hurry up you don’t wanna—”

Caleb feels Fjord’s fingers wiggle individually against the thin skin of his arms. They aren’t the only ones —all in all, he registers Jester’s fingers fluttering around under his arm and pinching at his lower ribs with her other hand, Molly’s claws spidering menacingly over his belly, Beau’s arm tight around his ankles, her fingers pulling back his big toes while Veth wiggles her nails all over his feet. His mind feels dizzy and fizzling —some kind of gelatinous consistency, perhaps.

One of Caleb’s last coherent thoughts is that it was at least a mercy (or… was it a tragedy?) that this hadn’t happened in Beau’s room, where he could have ended up having to watch this giggling, disheveled vision of himself taken apart in the mirror over her bed by his friends.

As it is, he simply closes his eyes and lets himself be lost, swimming safely in the sea of hands poking at him from every direction.

…

Zemnian (German) | English Translations: von - from bitte - please nein - no der Struwwelpeter - the ‘shock-haired’ Peter (book) lustige Geschichten - funny/amusing stories drollige Bilder - funny pictures Scheiße - shit Mist - crap/shit das Kitzelmonster - the tickle monster guten Abend - good evening Mm yeah ..and I’m just going…to include these… kitzeln - tickle (verb) kitzlig / kitzelig - ticklish das Kitzel/n - the tickle / the tickling (noun)

…

ADDITIONAL AUTHORS NOTES:

A/N: And now friends and readers who are still here, if you look to your…down — what you’ll see are some fun notes I did and things I learned while researching things for this story — also side note — it’s been about 10 years since, but I took 5 years of German from middle to high school, I’m not by any means fluent but I remember decent enough (and I had the power of the internet and search engines on my side)!!:

ANYWAY — I wanted to figure out some strange quirky little Deutsch storybook that I could have Caleb have in his library, something with a catchy (see also: silly) cover or title that would draw Jester’s eye..

Found this very quickly with a search for German children’s stories. <— yeah, my silly little lee brain was like “lol those nails” immediately — had to use.

Fic title was inspired from the book cover and title / description

Link to the book on Amazon 😆

Did a decent amount of skimming and looking over, I was immediately thinking German fairy tale / kids story, and they’re usually kind of brutal in Germany.

Did cross my mind to use der Katzenprinz or not go into as much detail on the book, or have her try to convince him to read Tusk Love… 😏 😈

Oh great! (affectionate) now am I gonna have to write that? (compulsive)

Yes!

I was conflicted on which translation to use to refer to Jester in ‘Zemnian’. I saw Hoffnar (court jester, king’s fool) , Narr/Närrin (fool, jester, joker), and Spaßmacher (joker, jester, clown) but literal translation of this one is fun-maker which I feel fits Jester very well. She makes fun, is fun, joke, jests, and is all around silly and teasy the whole fic so. Yes bby girl. In the end I ended up scrapping this longer title but it was essentially gonna be "Lustige Geschichten von der Spamacherin" but twas shortened.

Moving on from the language and literature … the em..um… erm.. position was inspired from this lovely video (also recently found out she’s very happily lee and I’m like YES GIRL. ITS SO MUCH MORE DJFJFJJG TO SEE AND KNOW THEY LOVE/HATE/LOVE IT hsjsjdkf. Truly inspiring. What good friends. Caleb deserves to be in her position.

List of some of the lovely prompts / ideas that inspired parts of the story - original prompts in green:

Critical Role c2

1. Caleb & anyone

2. Fjord & Jester

3. Caleb & Fjord

4. Essek & anyone

5. Any combo of the mighty nein you’d like

me: yess. yes. now that I’m making this I realize Essek isn’t there. (Neither are cad or yasha, they’re… meditating and drinking tea). Essek needs to have a turn helping them melt Caleb.

A has noticed that B is acting much sadder & moody than usual, little do they know that B is hamming it up in the hope of getting cheer up tickles. Whether the beans are spilled or not is up to you ;) (by beans I mean the fact they were trying to fake it)

me: I had a few ideas from various prompts floating around in my mind but also sometimes these fics just flow out of my brain — they go where they decide they’re gonna go! I’m sure you know! Anywho, it doesn’t exactly go into sad and moody but stoic and boring and drawing the silliness out of them.

We love a good flustered blushing silly Caleb, we also love a stubborn little journey to get there while slowly losing his composure.

I feel that Caleb knew what would happen as soon as Jester

a. sat on the couch with him

b. picked out the book

c. asked him to read to her, or

d. pranced into the room.

But either way he was #ready to be silly as soon as she came in - some serious #leebehavior immediately winding her up

A has really ticklish calves & B finds out while pinning them to tickle their feet, & they immediately switch targets

me: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR VERY OWN BEAUREGARD LIONETT PLEASE!!!

TICKLISH CALVES! TICKLISH LEGS! AHH!

I love this so much fr fr fr fr

See, but…. What if you have multiple friends and multiple hands… :D

A has been trying to get B’s attention when it becomes clear they’re deliberately being ignored.

me: love this trope so much

Caleb’s brain: I MUST ANTAGONIZE JESTER IMMEDIATELY. BUT SWEETLY.

Caleb’s brain: tells Jester how to say ‘tickle’ in his native tongue

Caleb’s brain a few min later: in turmoil over why he makes it soooooo much worse for himself — well for a few more minutes until he gets all wobbly and brain-buzzy

A either has something B wants or won’t do their job & need some convincing in the form of B’s tickling fingers

me: inner Jester monologue ‘Come on Caleb. Read the book. Read it. Do a silly voice. Read while I poke at your ribs. I don’t mind if you laugh. Come on keep trying. Okay I guess Fjord and I are just gonna drop the playful ruse. But you’re finishing that book for me later.’

Final Author's Note —

I hope this holiday gift pleases you, my dear @amazingmsme! Happiest Squealing Santa to Thee! 2023! I’m so happy I got you for the exchange and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season and new year!!!!!!!!!!

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infinite-hearts-333 · 1 month

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“Today is a special day! Today, our beloved Rose joins our ranks, our mission. Through time and time again, they have proven themselves- they have shown us all that this isn’t just a mission for joy- but for some, a mission for family. And with this mask, you’ll never be alone again, Rose.”

Au belongs to @onyxonline ✨

#THAT SWEET LOREEEE #♾ art #my art #smiling critters oc #space riders au #space riders oc #I feel so evil #ARE YOU SURPRISED #YOU SHOULD BE #HEHEHEH #let’s just say that Thorn was ‘gentle’ let go from the flower shop because they couldn’t care for the roses #also new OC??? cult OC???? watch out I’m coming for all of it #anyway I hope you liked this small snippet from Thorns past #and if you have any theroies on it I’d love to here it heheheh #it could have been better but it was a rushed peice cause uni life is kicking my ass big time #SR! Oura Thorn

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charlescoded · 7 months

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Begging you for vampy max and omega charles being all gaga over their chubby blonde blue eyed dimpled baby 🙈🙇‍♀️

vampy max would worship the ground charles walks on if so asked. he doesn't because charles is just as enamoured, but he will ask for more chubby babies <3

Sharp fangs graze against his skin as Max leaves sloppy kisses along the expense of his neck. Charles closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation for a moment. Max’s arm has creeped around his waist, keeping him in place. It’s a familiar position that Charles has come to love, but right now they don’t have time for this.

“Cheri,” He murmurs pointedly, and behind him Max groans loudly.

Max rests his forehead against his shoulder. “Just five minutes?” He whines.

He huffs. “Five minutes turns into ten, ten turns into sex, and sex turns into never leaving at all.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Charles can feel his smile press against his neck.

“And if she starts to cry and it ruins the mood—your mood?”

Max hesitates for a split second. “I can deal with that.”

Charles rolls his eyes and turns around in his hold. “No you can’t, you’ll be so distracted wanting to check on her and leave me needing you." He presses his lips against Max’s chin.

He cups Max’s jaw and kisses the pout away. “…It only happened once.”

“Twice,” Charles corrects. “I’m counting Jimmy getting stuck in the chandelier.”

Max makes a face. “You can’t blame that on me, what bat doesn’t know how to fly.”

It’s a rhetorical question, Charles answers it anyway. “You.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

“I know,” Charles grins, and when Max’s face tightens, his eyes light up. “Is she crying?”

Max presses his lips into a thin line. “…She might be.”

Charles shuffles out of his arms and gives him a coy look. “Well? Bring me my baby, Maxy.”

There’s a loud sigh, but Max pecks his cheek and disappears to leave Charles alone in their bed. He sits up and stretches his arms above him, a pleasant ache still pulsing through his body. He waits patiently—Max has the speed to return within seconds, but if he calms her down first, it might take a few minutes—, brushing his fingers against the bite marks left all over his body.

A big smile forms on his face when Max returns, their daughter curled up against his chest. He holds his arms out and Max hands her over as joins him back in bed. “Hey pretty baby,” Charles whispers, shifting so he can settle down against Max’s chest.

“Lisette calmed down as soon as I entered her room.” He can hear the silent typical being added, but Max doesn’t sound too upset about it.

Charles brushes her hair out of her face. “Did you just want attention from daddy, Lili?” Her little hand clasps around his finger. “Yeah? I like his attention as well.”

Max snorts softly. “Needy omega.” He teases.

“Hey,” He lightly knocks his head against Max’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude to your ‘needy omega’, he worked very hard to give you a carbon copy of yourself.”

“The first part wasn’t so hard,” He lets out a soft yelp when Charles pinches him. “…Besides, I think she’ll look like you when she grows up.”

He looks at the chubby cheeks of his daughter, at her golden hair, the startling blue eyes, even the sharper teeth poking out when she opens her mouth to babble and shakes his head. “No, she’s definitely daddy’s girl. Maybe our second will look more like me.”

“Second?” Max asks quietly, and Charles holds his breath. “You want me fill you up with another baby, Charlie?”

His cheeks flush bright red. “I..,” He clears his throat. “Only if you want to.”

Max kisses the back of his neck. “Of course I want to,” His hands rub over Charles’ sides. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Hm. And what if I want breakfast in bed right now?”

“Yeah?” Max’s hands slide down to Charles’ thighs. His voice is slightly muffled where he presses his teeth against an old bite mark, “You’re my breakfast, baby.”

Charles inhales sharply. “Oh my god, cheri,” The hands disappear from his skin. “You don’t have to put a baby in me the first chance you get!”

Max’s laughter echoes through the house as he disappears in the blink of an eye. Charles shakes his head and tries to hide his smile as he looks down at Lisette, his daughter busy playing with the faintly glowing jewels attached to his bracelet. He leans down and kisses her forehead. Maybe they’ll have another baby, but for now, this is enough.

#answered ask #my writing #lestappen #i got an entire backstory for this snippet and it's kinda funny because if i ever wrote it this would actually be post-story lmao #but i hope you like it <3 i don't have time to write more rn i need to hurry up and get ready #which is why this is not checked for mistakes at all #vampire omegaverse

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dollsuguru · 2 months

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starting my curator!geto fic officially now! <3

#really want it to sound artistic bc obvi he’s an artist/art curator so i HOPE that comes through 😭#also finally got the name of the fic down! i was lamenting for ages bc i couldn’t think of anything that was art-inspired #and then i listened to a song and in the lyrics… There It Was… shining like a beacon of light <3 #(funny bc the name has ‘shadow’ in it)#also by alter-ego you’ll see what i mean once i write more of the fic i promise that part will make sense 😭#kenjaku exists in this fic almost like an Entity he’s not actually a person in this fic #it’s a no-curses au! just wanted to play w different facets of suguru’s personality is all :3 #why aren’t tags saving #oh now you save you bitch.#ANYWAYS.#editing me here: i’m already reworking this intro so it’s more descriptive and less choppy #but it’s hard bc i wanna use a bunch of descriptors but i don’t want it to be CLUNKY 😭 intro is beating my ASS rn #kenjaku has me against the ropes 😩🫦#ignore the lipbite or don’t… but omfg… maybe I’M the tortured artist 😳😳😳 suguru step aside #double edit: the newer vision is so much better omfg i’m kinda gagged…#snippets #personal

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valeriianz · 1 year

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it's been a while, but the brainworms would not stop festering until i wrote this little prequal to my original Vampire Hunter!Hob ficclet. dedicated to @mathomhouse-e, the biggest instigator for this au lol. thanks @quillingwords for some mad crazy beta skills <3 i appreciate you!

“Don’t look now, but that guy in the back has been staring at you since we sat down.”

Hob hummed as he took a long sip from his tankard for his mate’s benefit. Hob didn’t have to turn to confirm this; he’d felt the stranger’s eyes on him as soon as he’d entered the crowded pub, though he hadn’t spotted him yet.

The revelation fascinated Hob now, after weeks and weeks of scattered moments where he had felt that itch of being watched, Hob could recognize the feeling and pinpoint it to one, singular person.

Their eyes had met a handful of times, Hob turning away politely at first, sometimes lengthening the stare with a curious look, or more recently, staring back with challenge in his gaze. Intentionally holding the man’s icy blue– visible even in the murky, darkened room– stare until Hob was forced to look away first, a chill running up his spine.

The feel of the stranger’s eyes on him had become frustratingly familiar. It was a bit hair-raising, to be sure. But it was also… alluring. Inviting. Titillating.

Hob had begun dreaming of this mysterious man, drafting up introductions in his mind, anticipating a confrontation eventually. Whether their meeting would be easy or difficult was warring within Hob’s chest until he’d finally made a decision to confront the pale man with striking blue eyes. It seemed like divine intervention that, the day after making this decision, the stranger would appear in his usual spot, at Hob’s usual haunt, precisely as he sat down to join his friends.

“Want me to tell him to fuck off for ya?”

“Nah,” Hob downed the remainder of his pint before slipping off the barstool, tossing some coins on the counter. “I got it.”

Hob made his way to the man’s table, tucked away in a corner, where he sat alone. Where he always sat alone. The mud brown of the pub's interior seemed amplified by the yellow glow of the electric sconces on the walls. It made the White Horse’s patrons seem dull and muted, even those who wore many colors or laughed raucously. Hob’s stranger in the corner, however, seemed to push through the soft and warm glow like a supernova.

And strangely enough, he was dressed in all black. Darker than shadows and just as intangible, like the starless night sky when the moon was hiding. The lights hit his cloak and revealed a matte, velvet texture that looked rich and soft and clean. Too clean, too pressed. Like the man had walked straight out of a tailor’s and came right in here. The man stuck out like a sore thumb amongst everyone else, and yet no one seemed to be paying him any mind.

Hob kept eye contact as he drew near, his posture lax, unimposing, though he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. And he wondered, briefly, if his stranger could feel it too. The way his eyes seemed to brighten as Hob approached, the way the corner of his mouth began to curl, making Hob’s stomach twist with a mixture of unease and delight.

“Hello,” Hob greeted as he finally stepped up to the empty chair opposite the man. “May I sit?”

The man lifted one elegant dark brow in response and Hob took that as an affirmative, pulling out the rickety chair and dropping himself into it.

Hob had to remind himself how to breathe, looking upon the man who’d been unashamedly watching him for the past few weeks. The dark clad man was already a vision from across the room, his eyes alone making a statement. But up close he was devastating. His coal dark hair was thick and messy, long tendrils that framed his ghost-white skin and severe cheekbones like a painting. A vision of lust, secrecy, and– Hob realizes belatedly with a stab into his gut– danger.

And he hadn’t even spoken yet.

“Are you aware of how obviously you behave?” Hob managed to find his voice again, dredged up from where it had fled moments prior. “Maybe instead of staring at me all night, you can buy me a drink.”

The man across from him tilted his head a fraction, imperceptible. Hob forced his usual smirk, roguish and sly. The one he used countless times to woo women to his bed, as he waved down a barmaid.

“And what is obvious… about my behavior?”

Hob looked twice at the man, unable to parse the words at first, convinced he had just heard a rumble of thunder outside. But as he stared, the stranger’s face became more and more curious, waiting for an answer.

Hob swallowed. The question– spoken in a low murmur, deep and decadent– fluttered around his chest before finally settling somewhere low in his gut. Hob felt his bravado promptly leak out his ears.

“Ah. It’s not exactly what I’m used to,” Hob hid his hands under the table to hide how he began to fidget. “Typically a ‘hello’ or ‘how do you do’ is more acceptable than silently watching.”

The barmaid finally arrived and it gave Hob the excuse to pull his eyes away from the indigo sea swirling before him, almost hypnotic. He took a shuddering breath and blinked, staring up at the woman who was waiting for an order.

Hob ordered two cask ales, forgetting about the bold way he’d suggested the man buy his drink and operating now on autopilot. As the woman left, Hob brought his attention back to the enigmatic man before him, his skin prickling with gooseflesh at the realization he hadn’t moved an inch, piercing gaze still on Hob, posture straight and solid as a wooden stake.

“I was watching,” the man spoke again, his voice soporific. “Because I’m interested.”

Hob’s heart, which had finally calmed down a bit, flipped over in his chest. “In me?”

The man hummed, his chin tilting down, considering, while something akin to a smile tugged on his lips.

“In a way…” he replied cryptically. He spoke slowly, as if mulling each word over, making them deliberate. He closed his eyes for a moment and Hob belatedly realized the man hadn’t blinked once thus far.

“You are an apprentice.”

Hob couldn’t help it, he grinned, pulling one hand back on the table’s wooden surface to drum his fingers.

“How can you tell?”

The man tilted his chin up, taking a moment to study him and Hob felt his smile grow with the attention. Though there was something in the back of his head, tickling his base instincts of self-preservation. It was odd, Hob didn’t feel as though he was in any danger, but there was a certain… air about this gentleman. Hob couldn’t be sure yet, but there was definitely something off about him. Perhaps he was a lord– he certainly dressed the part. With his thick cloak, parted just enough to see an expensive looking waistcoat made from damask, the design threaded in gold that glinted with each microscopic movement.

The way he carried himself too, was with arrogance and power, and without a trace of sympathy. It was cold and hard. It was also breathtaking and Hob delighted in the man’s sharp gaze, his scrutiny, focused solely on him.

Not just now, Hob had to remind himself with his own smug grin. But for the past few weeks.

“You dress the part,” he nodded down at Hob’s clothes. “But you are still young. I assume you’re in training.”

Hob looked down at himself, hardly dressed for style, but comfort. For easy movement during his training but also leather clad to protect against blunt force and brutal encounters. His coat, which he’d draped over the chair, had deep pockets for concealing weapons and the thick utility belt around his waist had many compartments to hold his tools… though he had very few at the moment.

And like his stranger, Hob wore all black, to blend in with the night. He wouldn’t say what he was, even if the handsome man asked… it was frightening enough that he’d managed to even guess at his occupation thus far.

“Good observation,” Hob said, offering nothing else.

The barmaid returned, setting their drinks on the table and leaving again with a smile.

Hob brought his own up for a long drink, for thirst and also to distract his hands, which desperately needed something to take hold of.

A beat passed before the stranger spoke again. “A priest?”

It’s the tone of the question that made Hob set his drink down slowly, swallowing deeply and eyeing his stranger again, his own brow arching. His tone was polite. As if he did know what Hob was and only asked to prompt him to reveal his true work. Like the man was playing dumb.

Hob looked down suddenly at the wooden cross hanging low on his chest, which is what might’ve provoked the inane suggestion. He laughed and he could hear in his own ears the edge to it.

“Far from it,” Hob tucked the cheap jewelry into his shirt. “Just superstitious, is all.”

The man hummed and seemed to relax, imperceptibly, in his chair. Hob took note of it with a curious expression

“And what about you?” Hob leaned back, fiddling with the handle of his pint. “What is your business?”

“Hardly worth mentioning.” The man responded quickly, his words premeditated. “I am curious though, young apprentice. Do I entice you?”

Again, Hob’s heart lurched at the forwardness. His blood racing through his veins and nearly making him dizzy.

Unexpectedly, the stranger took a slow, deep breath through his nose, his chest rising with it and Hob unconsciously felt himself leaning forward. It is as though the man intended to pull Hob in, like he’d tied a rope around his chest and tugged. Hob caught himself on the table’s edge, forcing his eyes down at the man’s untouched drink and took a shaky breath, stolen from him, back into his lungs.

Hob laughed, shaking his head, pulling himself back up and hoping he hadn’t made too much of a fool of himself. His chest and neck were burning.

“What kind of question is that?”

For the first time all night, the man took his hands from where they’d been hidden under the table and clasped them on the surface. Hob sees no rings but couldn’t help but to fixate on his long pale fingers, his knuckles smooth as silver bullets. Hob wondered if they’d be just as hard and cold, too.

“You approached me. You sat at my table.” His hands turned palm up, fingers spreading wide. “What kind of question do you think it is?”

Hob laughed again, nerves getting the best of him. His young, traitorous heart was like a racehorse galloping along his ribcage.

“I’m afraid to answer that question,” but Hob smirked anyway, taking his drink up again to distract himself.

A small, barely there smile crept through his stranger’s carefully composed visage. A proper smile filled with pure amusement and– Hob blinked dumbly as realization settles in– desire. His eyes seemed to glint with excitement, hunger.

Ah, that was it. Like looking upon something you craved, pupils dilating with it and lips unconsciously parting, which Hob’s stranger did now. It was an intoxicating sight, and Hob could only stare, caught like a mouse in a trap.

Then he rose, so fluidly and gracefully that it took Hob a moment to even register that he was staring up at the man.

“What’s your name?” Hob asked, his voice gone quiet, awestruck.

The man hummed again, eyelids low, considering.

“Next time.”

He set a gold coin on the table, right next to his untouched ale, and left.

#dreamling #dream x hob #vampire au #i can and will blame Eliza for this little thing lol #i hope you like it <3 #this is for sure something that could be a full length fic...#but for now im just gonna add on to it on tumblr #in lil snippets like this #whenever i feel like it haha #my writing

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thedevilinmybrain · 9 months

Note

Pleaseeee queen give me a short something of this.... jealousyrry 😎✌️ I need it

https://twitter.com/stylinarts/status/1693031282001789153?t=cMtKVXiK74Stj3_T9kSZLQ&s=19

"First it was the shirt, which might I add, I helped him pick out. He looks so good in a matching set." Harry sighs miserably into his glass of wine, pouts at Niall's face through the phone screen. "And now this? This? Like I'm not fucking standing backstage with his whole fam." "It was just a safety precaution, love. If they had let him in that crowd, he'd have walked out more thank half naked." Niall soothes, his own glass of white just barely taking the edge of the camera screen. It's their monthly ritual - a wine and whine night. It's the way for both of them to get everything off their chests, no judgement, just safe space. "He doesn't even like being manhandled." Huffing, Harry side eyes the bedroom door. Downstairs, Louis is on the phone with one of his managers, knows to give Harry at least an hour. "You know, he really doesn't. Fucking Capricorn. Has to always be in control, you know, calculated. But oh no, one look from that fucking..." "Fucking?" Niall prompts, so used to these sorts of rants, even thirteen years later. "Fucking what?" "I don't know. That fucking Achilles looking security guard and suddenly Louis likes being thrown around?" Harry's voice drags up at the end, close to a true whine himself. "Italy is supposed to be my thing. It's our honeymoon spot! Our villa is here! And now I'm being usurped by some Italian demigod." "Greek." Niall corrects, grimacing a little, wrinkles his nose. "What?" Harry pauses, stares into the phone with a little furrow between his brows. "Achilles is Greek, darling. He fought on the side with the Greeks." Niall explains, waving a hand. "You want like Hercules. Hercules was Italian." "Okay well," Harry will blame the alcohol for his lack of mythology knowledge. He, like everyone knows, that Greek and Roman mythology is a pipeline to queerness. "Well, like Hercules, I'm going to kill myself if I have to watch one more video of that man feeling up my husband." "Please don't. I really don't have the mental capacity to find another best friend." Niall sighs, rolling his eyes with a fond shake of his head. "Just go down there and like, play wrestle or some shit. Show him you've still got it. You guys used to do that shit all the time in the X Factor house." "Yeah only now, I don't have to worry about twenty other people listening to me take his cock-" Harry begins with a wide grin only for Niall to immediately end the call. He's heard enough, enough times. Knows way too much. If Oli is the holder of all of Louis' secrets, then Niall is the one holding Harry's.

#larry #snippet #i hope you like this!

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huntersrequiem-if · 3 months

Text

The city is bustling, crawling with activity. Sounds upon sounds, voices competing with each other. A thousand of different scents, mortals, food.

Thousands of feet scurrying towards their destination.

Hell, if you concentrate you can even hear the voices of the merchants in the marketplace rising over each other.

So different from your forest, your beloved Wyldewood. It has noises, but they are familiar, soothing. Like leaves ruffling in the breeze, joyful birdsong dancing along the plains.

The babbling of the rivers traveling through the forest.

The squelch of a beast ripping its prey apart, blood dripping down its fangs.

You are shaken out of your stupor when a stranger bumps into you, roughly. You growl at them, barely stopping yourself from baring your fangs at them.

They give you a rude gesture, as they continue onwards with an uneven gait.

With a sound of discontent, you drag your hood deeper over your face. Until you are hidden in its shadow, barely two faintly shining eyes.

How embarrassing of you, to be so caught up in your thoughts.

Right, this alley can no longer shield you. At the mouth of it lies an ever-flowing sea of mortals.

You were waiting for just the right moment to break in. But it seems like it is never coming.

Keeping a hand holding the hood still, you make your way. Shoving some, sidestepping others.

You continue until you are amidst the heart of the crowd. Follow its flow.

Ignoring the way your head is pounding from the cacophony of noises and smells. The voice of the crowd like the angry buzzing of a wasp hive.

Your claws twitch.

At least your eyes are working fine. You search for a glimpse of warm tawny skin, a shock of blonde hair glowing in the sunlight.

Nothing.

...wait. You stop in your tracks. The flow staggers, pushing into your form. The humans curse you as they avoid your prone form. Some ask if you are alright.

You ignore the ceaseless buzzing, focusing on the sweet scent. It reminds you of a summer day.

Warm sunlight on your skin, the sweet aroma of flowers.

Your teeth sinking into soft skin. Their pulse like the erratic heart of a deer. Their little whimpers, a delight to your ears.

You bound towards it. The other mortals stop if they don't want to be plowed. Others are too oblivious to that.

It guides you in deserted alleyways, busy streets. You dodge and wave between the humans. Until.... there they are. In a less populated corner of the market, they lean against a stone building.

Santana.

The very picture of relaxation. But you know them better. Crossed arms, staring into the moving streets. The subtle tension of their shoulders. The slow taping of their foot.

Dressed in plain clothes, a white tunic and dark brown pants. They might look like a commoner. They are so much more.

Soft tawny skin, tiny freckles much more evident in the sun. Long golden blonde hair, in a messy braid. The wayward strands perfectly framing their face. Long lashes hiding deep blue eyes.

They haven’t noticed you yet, of course they haven’t. As much as you would like to stay here hidden in the shadows and admire them, you can’t keep them waiting.

Your steps are silent, noiseless. Forty steps away, they tug at their braid. Thirty steps away, they glance at the stalls on the other side of the street. Their foot quickens its pace, each tap producing a small noise.

Fifteen steps away, they lean their head on the wall, closing their eyes.

You wonder how close you will get before they notice you.

Ten steps away. They’re absorbed in their world.

Five steps away.

Extending a hand, only for it to be slapped away when they twirl. Their other hand goes to their belt, grabbing thin air.

Blinking owlishly, they stare at you for a long moment – before their face takes a regretful look. Their eyebrows furrow. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, I got surprised.” A small smile follows. “Can I help you with something?”

It is easier this way, to ignore the bustle of the city. Just focus on their melodious words. Focus on their smell, wildflowers. Their heartbeat, how it had gone from a harried pace to a steady one.

Ignore the stomping feet.

They squint at you, trying to see under your hood. You help them, raising it slightly. Their eyes widen. “…you came?” Their face brightens up, though there is an unsure shine in their eyes, the small twitch of their brows. “I wasn’t sure you would do that.”

You blink, tilting your head. Why would they think that? “You wanted me here.”

They glance away, a small smile on their lips. Clearing their throat, they refocus on you. “I hope the line wasn’t too long.”

You frown. “What line?”

Blinking, their eyes dance between you and the crowd. “The entrance line..?” Their voice is laced with uncertainly, they speak like they’re trying to jog your memory. “The one you have to use to enter the city?”

Oh.

“How did you get here then?”

“I scaled the wall. Of course.” You shrug. It seemed like the easiest way.

They stare at you, wide-eyed. Their mouth, agape – closes and opens like a dying prey. No words come from them. “You did what?!” The words come sharp, piercing your ears.

The other passerby give them a strange look. Santana responds with an embarrassed smile, lowering their voice to a murmur. “What if someone saw you?” They glance around.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “And who could have seen me?” The mere notion laughable. From up the walls, the mortals resembled ants. Glancing at them, as they pass you by – well, you don’t see changing your opinion anytime soon.

Wait. Their heartbeat quickened. Glancing at them, you find them worrying their lip, eyes darting around. Oh, shit, they’re agitated.

You take a breath. Mellow your voice once it comes out like a soothing whisper. Open hands. You approach them, this time trying to make sounds.

Not like you are stalking your prey. No, no. You’re only trying to help a wounded deer.

When you are right in front of them you move your hands near their shoulder. Not touching. They’re already skittish enough. One wrong move and they might bolt.

“Hey, hey. Santana. Look at me,” their eyes dart to your face. You’re not sure what they see - a beast with sharp fangs and glowing eyes? A concerned smile? Whatever they see, it works because their eyes stay glued on yours. “No one saw me. I was very careful.”

They nod, slowly and then with more force. “Yes, yes. You might be right.” A soft sigh exhaled through their lips, they gave you a small smile. A hand gently tugs at their braid. “I suppose I’m just nervous.” The smile wobbles, just the tiniest bit. “I haven’t done this before. Lovers’ Day, I mean.”

You give them one last sweep, stepping back. Their heart is calm again.

Still, their choice of words gives you pause. Haven’t done it before? You open your mouth, ready to – what do you mean? We did it countless times before. Looking into their eyes, glance away. Right, not that Santana. Not yours. You close your mouth.

They caught that. Something in their face changes, is more taut.

A charged moment passes, you ‘admiring’ the market, and they looking at your profile.

The stalls are brightly colored, with a multitude of things for sale. Some you know – pelts, fresh meat. Some you don’t know – silk, gems. All have little symbols, little figurines of the stallkeeper’s chosen deity. Nothing for you, of course not.

They clear their throat, your eyes dragged back to them. “When was the last time you were here?”

Much has changed, that’s for certain. When you were up to the walls you had a change to see the layout of the city. It expanded.

You shrug. “A few centuries at least. It changed.”

Their expression withers, glancing down. “Right. It must been a sight to behold.”

You tilt your head. What have you said now? Why are they upset?

You don’t like seeing them like this. Your tongue licks over your fangs as you think. Ah, something to do might cheer them up. You clear your throat. “Truthfully, I…,” prefer is too strong a word, not with all this damnable noise, “like it more now. It is prettier.” It doesn’t feel satisfactory, but it made them look at you. “You could give me a tour. Show me all the new things added this century.” You try to smile.

They perk up. A hesitant nod follows and they step forwards. They show you their favorite stalls, their favorite places to get food. And to their credit, the scent is enough to make your mouth salivate.

It would been perfect really. If only this damned city would just shut up. It makes your teeth ache, your hands twinging. One swipe and you could shut them up. The humans who bump into you. Into Santana.

The last straw was when someone stepped on Santana’s foot with enough force to make them yelp.

You growl, lunging toward the human, grabbing them by the collar. Your claws slice through the thin fabric as you bare your teeth towards the fool.

You might’ve taken a bite of them too, if desperate hands didn’t drag you away. Initially you tensed up, ready to destroy the idiot who dared grab you. Still, you relaxed and let yourself dragged away when you recognized Santana’s warm palms.

They have a vice grip on your forearm, hastily retreating from the whispering crowd. Running from shame…?

A dark alley appears soon. They throw the two of you towards it. Their hurried steps slow down only when they reach a dead end.

With a sight, they release your arm and learn on the cool wall. They slide down it, meeting the hard ground.

You do the same. You rub your face. How stupid of you, to get so carried away.

Your ears pick up their heart galloping in their chest.

A few moments, minutes pass. It slows down.

“Did this happen often?” You glance at them, finding them with looking heavenwards. “With the original me, I mean.” A gulp. “Or former me?” They give a weak laugh, devoid of any joy. “What would they done in my place?”

#owl hooting #hunter's requiem if #interactive fiction #valentines day snippet #beware this is long!#it just ran away from me...#hr: santana #hope you guys like it!

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