#drabble drabble

[evvrloree]

one shot

NETEYAM x fem!human!reader

summary: neteyam is very intrigued by the numerous piercings you have all over your face. innocent curiosity, so you think.

tags: fluff fluff fluff , a little suggestive , reader is implied to have alternative style / look

a/n: haha this was silly and cute to write! in all honesty, i have a nostril piercing and that shit hurt like a BITCH ain't no one told me nothing

theme: ecstacy i just wanna be your sigmaaaa

Neteyam hadn't stopped staring at you. In fact, he was staring so hard, it became impossible to focus on doing your makeup, to which you dramatically closed your folding mirror and turned to face him.

"What?" You gestured, tossing your mirror away, "Is there something on my face?"

He sat cross-legged on the woven mat in front of you, tail flicking lazily behind him, but the rest of him was unnaturally still.

"No," he said finally, voice low and thoughtful, the way it got when he was puzzling something out. "Nothing on your face." His gaze drifted again. Lingering first on the tiny silver hoop in your septum, then the delicate studs along the curve of your ear, the little barbell through your eyebrow, the one just on the very bridge of your nose, and the dermals lined up on your cheek bones, and finally to the labret on your lip.

You raised an eyebrow. "Then what? You've been staring like I grew a second head."

He leaned in a little closer, careful. The freckles across his cheeks caught the low light of the lab's emergency strips, making him look almost ethereal. "Your... decorations," he murmured. "The metal. The shiny pieces. They go...through the skin?"

You couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up. "Piercings. Yeah. Humans do them for fun, mostly. Or to look cool." You tilted your head, letting the lab light catch the glint of silver in your nose again. "You like them?"

Neteyam's ears perked forward. "They are... strange. Interesting." His fingers flexed like he wanted to reach out. "Do they hurt?"

"Some did more than others." You pointed to the one on your eyebrow, then your ear where your conch piercing sat. "I have seventeen in total."

His eyes searched your face, counting each little piece of metal jewelry he could visibly lay his eyes on. "Wait, you said seventeen, I only count fourteen."

You paused for a second, then stuck your tongue out playfully, showing off the small silver ball that sat in the middle of your tongue. "This one hurt the worst. Swelled up for days. Worth it, though."

His eyes locked onto your tongue instantly. He leaned even closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.

"You have one there?" His voice dropped, almost a whisper, like the idea itself was secret. "Why would you put metal in your tongue?"

You shrugged casually. "I dunno, thought it looked cool."

His gaze flicked from your mouth to your eyes and back again. "That's fifteen."

You side glanced him, not really trying to look at him in the face. "Well- Let's just say the other two are definitely there."

Neteyam's ears flicked forward so sharply you almost laughed again.

His golden eyes narrowed, not in suspicion. "You are hiding two more."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. "Maybe."

He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he was determined to solve. "Where?"

You gave a tiny shrug, vague. "Places you can't see right now."

His pupils dilated until only a thin ring of yellow remained, the way they did when he was trying very hard to stay polite and not just stare harder. "Show me," he said.

You arched a brow. "Bold of you to assume I'm gonna strip in the middle of the lab just because you asked nicely."

"Uh- I- What?" He looked absolutely flabbergasted and pulled back a bit. The violet flush that had been creeping up his throat exploded across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

You pressed your lips together hard to keep from laughing outright, but the corners of your mouth still betrayed you, twitching upward. He looked so genuinely horrified at the implication that it was almost unfair how adorable it was.

You finally let the laugh escape. "Relax. I was teasing."

His ears twitched forward again, cautious. "You enjoy making my heart race like I have just startled a thanator?"

"Sometimes." You reached out and gently tapped the tip of one flushed ear with your fingertip. "You're cute when you're flustered."

He huffed. "I am not cute. I am… dignified. Responsible. Eldest son of Toruk Makto."

"Uh-huh. And right now you're also bright purple and tripping over your own tongue." You poked the center of his chest lightly.

Neteyam exhaled through his nose, long and slow, trying to gather his composure. "I am curious," he admitted. "About all of it. The metal in your skin. The way you choose to mark yourself like that. It is… brave. Beautiful. Different from anything I have known." His gaze drifted back to your face, lingering again on the silver hoop in your septum, then back to your mouth. "Especially that one."

You felt the heat rise in your own cheeks this time. "Yeah?"

He nodded once. "When you showed me… I could not stop imagining." He paused, careful with his words. "What it would feel like. Against my lips. Against my tongue." Another pause. "Against me."

You swallowed. "You still want to find out?"

His eyes snapped back to yours. "More than anything."

You considered him for a long moment. Then you crooked one finger, beckoning him closer. He leaned in instantly, until his forehead rested gently against yours again.

"Close your eyes," you whispered.

He obeyed without hesitation. You tilted your head just enough, parted your lips, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, tongue darting out asking permission to push past his lips to which he did.

Your tongues slid against each others, the little barbell in your mouth softly clinking against his fangs. Neteyam made a low sound in the back of his throat. His hands came up to cradle your face, careful palms framing your cheeks like you were made of glass.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, his pupils were blown so wide the gold was barely a ring.

"That…" he whispered, "…was worth every day of your swelling."

You laughed breathlessly, pressing your forehead harder against his. "Told you."

"And the other two?" he murmured against your lips. "Will I ever get to meet them?"

"Maybe," you whispered.

taglist: @queefmasterr @naveaian @thel0v3hashira143 @ynniksslirg @yumyumyumsworld @akaakari @ivarasite @simpingoveredmundbrb @sleepygirl-inc @bunnyredgirl @zzma-rs @starmylife4ever @pinkdestinytaco @scenic236 @hiyik @haunted-haven @fizzywizzyglizzy @celestialsonglines @char-izard3 @marinefreaakk @nicaur @artfulthoughtsblog @trashyandtiredsol @erenjaegerwifee @arusblogg

[ladymarshmall0w]

“So, you’re vegan now?”

Oscar sees Lando glance up, piercing sea waves washing over him.

Then he hears a chuckle.

“Yeah, guess so.” Lando shifts so he’s facing Oscar fully.

They’re barely talking above a whisper, people too close by to be loud about it. He’s worried someone will hear but it also burns a fire in his gut at the scandalousness of it.

“Mmmm,” Oscar hums, shy and suddenly at a loss for words at the premise of Lando being so upfront.

“Don’t believe me, Osc?”

And that. That does something to Oscar. He can feel his clit fluttering between his legs— He crosses them.

Fuck, his face is probably so red, the heat is starting to warm him up. It’s frustrating because he can drive a car that could kill him and talk to the most important people on the planet and be fine but Lando Norris and his— that look right there. And that fucking tongue at the side of his mouth—Oscar can already feel wetness soaking into his panties.

Lando sits back in his chair, arms stretching high in the air. “I can prove it, can show you.” He smiles when he says it, tooth gap glinting at Oscar. “Can take you to my driver room.”

Oscar hears the words and they go right through him, making his pulse spike.

Lando is leaning forward now, lips parted like they aren’t sure if they want to assist in saying words. They do anyway— “Can eat a little snack for you.”

And Oscar doesn’t know where the courage comes from, maybe the fact that he hasn’t had a tongue on him in way too fucking long but…. he says, “Wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect reputation by thinking you’re a liar would we?”

That’s all it takes for Lando so softly shove his chair backwards and stand.

Lando’s standing and— so is something else. Oscar thinks Lando would try to hide it but remembers how unashamedly the man walks around with his bulge out. 

And at the moment it’s not too different from his normal.

For a second they stare at each other, mostly Oscar unsure what to do.

“Come on then. Since you’re so eager to know the truth.”

Eager. The playful jab stabs Oscar and then leaks out of him, making fabric stick to him when he rises.

Not a word is said as they head back to Lando’s driver room.

Not a word is said as Lando falls to his knees, beautiful teeth shining at Oscar.

And not a word is said as Lando’s massive hands pull down Oscar’s panties—no, words are said, Oscar can just barely hear them over his own pulse.

“Fuck, Osc, I haven’t even touched you and you’re soaked.”

Oscar doesn’t care about embarrassment anymore, doesn’t care about the blush and the shaking. He needs Lando to shut up and— “You said you were gonna prove it, Lando. Can’t do that without your mouth full.”

That gets an eyebrow raise and a slack jaw out of Lando, shock.

But, it works.

Lando shuffles and wraps a hand onto each of Oscar’s thighs where they meet hips, spreading them wide. He rubs circles into Oscar’s skin and bones, getting so close air tickles his folds.

Oscar knows he’s glistening and puffy and already practically begging for it and that he should be embarrassed—he is, but it just makes him want it more.

Then, Lando plants his beautiful heart-shaped mouth that Oscar has stared at for years onto Oscar’s clit and flattens his tongue.

Lando starts moving, toying with his clit like this a game for him. It’s a balance of soft and firm, slow but paced.

It’s perfect.

And it’s making Oscar cover his mouth to prevent awful, incriminating sounds from escaping. Both hands clamping his lips shut.

Oscar’s hips try to buck up as Lando slips lower, tongue traveling down him and dipping into his hole, but Lando doesn’t allow it from the way he’s holding Oscar pinned.

A muffled ‘oh my god’ escapes Oscar by accident.

Lando hums into him in return and speeds up a little, starts using his lips to suck in all the right places.

There's too much in his stomach already, electricity building and building and building inside him. Nearing fireworks exploding in his gut. His head is fuzzy now, he can’t think—doesn’t know what noises could be coming out of him, doesn’t know what Lando is doing anymore.

He’s close, so close. He needs just a little longer, just a little more.

He’s—

Lando stops.

The man leans back in record time, hands peeling off Oscar’s sweaty legs. He can hear Lando breathing heavily, and can hear fabric ruffling.

But Oscar can't see, is frozen in place.

He was so close.

Finally, Oscar glances at Lando, at Lando and his award winning, championship winning, smile.

And Lando says, “I said a little snack, didn’t I?”

He wipes Oscar from his face.

“I just got a bit full, wouldn't want to spoil my dinner. Now would I, Osc?”

[bruisedfig]

daddyissues!reader not even hesitating to call ben dad the SECOND he starts doting on her. daddyissues!reader pawing at ben to get his attention. daddyissues!reader doing every thing he asks so they can be praised and then absolutely beaming at the littlest bit

daddyissues!reader who is so wildly pathetic and knows it, sucking up to ben with big wet eyes, calling him daddy in that sweet little voice. ben knows he’s playing with you, wedging his fingers between every wet fold of your brain and manipulating you into believing he actually cares. but you’re just too sweet, too easy, too stupid for him to feel guilty. and the way you caved, calling him dad for the first time—why would he ever quit toying with you like this? it’s like you were made for him. he oughta thank your father for doing such a pisspoor job with you, leaving you wounded and pliable for any grown man who’s kind enough.

[extrasteps]

"What?" Mack asked, tilting his head as he looked at him, like Will was the one who was weird. "Doesn't your family have like a generational baseball thing going on? I would have thought you'd be all over this shit."

Will just stared at him, his mind racing. Wait, did they? His mom did talk about the baseball stuff a lot, but he hadn't paid much attention since he'd dropped it for hockey.

"Explain it to me like I don't," he said instead. Because he very much did not get it.

Mack shrugged but leaned back against the headboard in Will's childhood bedroom, looking cool and calm and very comfortable. Which was wild, consider Will felt like he was losing his fucking mind.

"Alright," he said. "Basically, since science started catching up with like drug doping and stuff, teams started turning to the supernatural to get an edge. And some of those things run in families."

"Like yours," Will said. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Yeah," he agreed easily. "Like mine. The vampire thing comes from my mom's side. She's a born vampire, while dada was bitten."

"Wait, there's a difference?" Will asked, fascinated despite himself.

"Of course," Mack scoffed. "Born vampires are much stronger, for one."

There were hierarchies to this shit, fucking of course there was.

"So, you and all of your siblings are vampires?" Will asked faintly.

"Yeah," Mack said with one of those beaming, gummy smiles. "And if any of us have kids, then they'll be vampires, too."

Jesus Christ.

"it's actually pretty interesting, when you compare different sports, different teams. Everyone has different approaches," Mack continued explaining. "Take Boston, for example, they prefer weres because they like their teams to have this real pack mentality and physical presence."

Will blinked. He'd been going to Boston games his entire fucking life. What the fuck?

Before he could get over that revelation, Mack kept going.

"Whereas Montreal has a thing about shapeshifters," he said. "Dunno why, I've never understood it. I mean, if they get particularly good at it, I think they can change just like their eyes or ears or something, help them react faster?"

Will wrinkled up his nose. "That's so fucking weird, dude."

"Right?" Macklin agreed.

"And Vancouver like vampires?" he guessed. "Is it an alliteration thing?"

He shot him a confused look. "Huh? No, don't be stupid. Smitty. It was always gonna be San Jose."

Will blinked a few times. "Wait, are you saying that all our teammates are vampires?"

Mack rolled his eyes like he'd said something particularly stupid. "Not all of them, obviously. Just the drafted ones. The ones who get traded to us are generally different."

Misa, then. Dickie. Cherny. Ekky. Mars. Cags. He wasn't sure about the undrafted guys like Goody or Graf, but he was starting to feel a bit hysterical, so he didn't ask.

And then, suddenly, his brain stalled.

"But I was drafted," he said slowly, looking at Mack. "And I'm not a vampire."

Mack looked a bit shifty at this. "No," he agreed. "You're not... currently a vampire."

Will went very, very still.

"What, exactly, do you mean by that?" he asked, his mouth running dry.

Mack sighed, looking away from him. "It's a born vampire thing. We um, we tend to imprint on people, like-"

His voice trailed off, and his cheeks turned a little pink. Will stared at him, and then a lightbulb went off and he choked.

"Like a soulmate thing?" he asked weakly.

Still avoiding his gaze, Mack nodded.

"I knew I was going to get drafted by San Jose. It was basically a done deal since dad moved us here and I played in the Junior Sharks program."

"So?"

Mack gave a deep sigh. "So, when there was a draft year with no vamps, they gave me a call, asked who I wanted. And well, you'd been lighting it up, Smitty. I couldn't fucking beat you at any level, and I knew you were the best choice, so I told them. Will Smith. I want him."

Will blinked. "The San Jose Sharks picked me as their fourth draft pick because you told them to?"

"Yep," Mack said, at least having the grace to look a bit embarrassed by the admission. "I knew from the first time I faced off against you that you were special. There was something about you that called to me, and your scent, it was like nothing I'd ever encountered before. I couldn't get you out of my head."

Holy shit. He felt faint. His entire future decided because Macklin Celebrini thought he smelled good.

"What the actual fuck?" he whispered. He buried his face in his hands, trying to focus on his breathing.

Mack didn't say anything, letting him have his freak out in relative peace.

Will shook his head a few times, trying to recalibrate his understanding of the world, of his life, his journey, and falling short.

Then, he froze. His heart started racing again.

Slowly, he looked up.

"Not currently a vampire," he said slowly, staring at Mack. "That's what you said."

Mack grimaced. "Ah," he said. "Yes."

He glared at him. "Explain."

"Well," Mack said, looking nervous. "You're a beauty, Smitty, you know I think that. I really do. But Warso, he's getting impatient. He wants you faster and stronger. He blamed me for that injury you had, said you would have shrugged it off if I'd bitten you last summer like I was meant to, or been fast enough to dodge it."

Will reeled back, his throat tightening, his stomach dropping. "What?" he breathed.

"To be fair, he's probably right. Not saying that you'd never get injured again, obviously, but the likelihood would drop pretty significantly, Smitty." It was the earnestness in his voice that got to Will, like he was just explaining the obvious play to him. It was breaking his brain.

He shook his head again, getting up to start pacing in his room. It felt too small, suddenly, like a cage. And he was stuck in it with a predator, one who apparently had to turn him into a fucking vampire.

Or else- what, exactly?

Will paused, looking at Mack. "What happens if you don't?" he asked, his voice carefully even.

Mack bit his lip. He didn't say anything. But he didn't have to. Will could read between the lines.

No more first line. No more San Jose, probably. Maybe they'd put him on waivers, send him down to the Barracuda, or ship him off to another team altogether. The Rangers had been sniffing around.

Here, he was only valuable because Mack said he was.

Enter Smith, 20.

Fucking hell. They'd set him up, they all had. Greer. Warso. Rick fucking Celebrini. They'd mapped out his whole future for him, with him none the wiser, just blindly walking the path they'd set at his feet.

He took a thin, shaky breath. His chest felt tight, the world dimming in at the edges, and he dropped onto his haunches, trying to stave off the panic attack he could feel coming on.

And then Mack was there, and he was speaking in this soothing, hypnotizing voice, and his eyes were so green, and he was telling Will to sleep, and...

The world went black.

[asterifish]

Currently back in the Kim Seungmin feels so here's a request based on these beautiful works of art. He's just so soft, the world is spinning.

Seungmin X Male Reader

His cute Puppy smile and adorable laugh as you compliment him on how cute he looks. A pink blush taking its place along his cheeks and nose. He loves feeling cute and adorable with you. Just so soft and safe and sgfkjiAafjdsl. Sometimes he just wants to be babied and doted on by you, being able to let his walls down and feel free and floaty. He'd come into your room and flop onto your chest, rubbing his face into you as you giggle at his cute behaviour. It would end up in soft sex with lots of compliments and encouragement. Even though he is topping this time he loves losing control to you.

Idk if that's enough but by God this would be sickening cute and wholesome

FINALLY GETTING TO THIS ‼️

I really don't think I needa add on....

Seungmin was always the type to seriously blush when he received compliments from 🪐. As a make-up artist, it was 🪐's job to take care of Seungmin, so they were always in close proximity.

One day 🪐 had said something unexpected, causing Seungmin to blush so deeply his ears turned red. Excusing himself, Seungmin covered his mouth and left the room. Chan had been watching and suddenly laughed as his member left the room. "🪐, you're going to kill that boy one day."

🪐 smiled and bowed, "I hope not, sir." Leaving the room, 🪐 trailed after his boyfriend, catching him in the bathroom washing his hands.

"Did I go too far earlier?" 🪐 asked, a bit nervous as his patted Seungmin's back. The boy shook his head and turned, "no baby, you just.. It suprised me.."

. Or .

Seungmin sighed as he walked into 🪐's apartment, tired from his long day of filming. Walking into his boyfriend's room, he flopped down, rolling into 🪐's chest.

"Rough day pretty boy?" 🪐 puts down his book and rubs his boyfriends back. Seungmin would nod and sigh, nuzzling into 🪐's neck.

Usually when seungmin got like this, he wanted to be babied, and 🪐 knew that. Smiling softly, 🪐 started giving seungmin soft compliments and occasionally kissing the boy's forehead. This led to them making out softly, 🪐's legs wrapped around Seungmin's waist.

They very rarely had sex, but when they did it was always soft and sweet. 🪐 always complimented Seungmin, knowing that he loved it. Seungmin would be blushing the whole time, his face red. He'd often shake his head and hide his face in 🪐's chest.

"Come on baby, show me your pretty face.. please? Pretty boyyyy" 🪐 would whine, moaning softly as seungmin slammed into him roughly on accident. His head would snap up, an apologetic but determined look in his eyes. "Shit.. You can't keep doing that baby, I'm gonna fuckin...." Seungmin's voice trails off as he groans, feeling 🪐's nails on his back scratching him softly, 🪐's eyes piercing into his own.

This is short but I coulda gone crazy w it‼️

[owl127]

single moms meet at boyband show

(Ao3)

Lexa focused on the green at the tip of Serah’s braid as she followed her daughter through the never-ending crowd.

"Mom, I want to be up front for the starting band!" Serah cried from right in front of Lexa, and Lexa took three long strides to catch up with her daughter. 

"Do you have your phone?" Lexa asked for the fourth time, to which Serah rolled her eyes.

"Yes."

"Full battery?"

"93%."

"And the location tags?"

Serah looked around them, biting her lips as other teens—mostly girls—ran to the front of the stage. "Yes, one in my purse and one in my belt," she said between gritted teeth, all unnecessary teen rage. Lexa nodded, reaching for her daughter’s hand. God, she would be taller than Lexa soon. 

"I’ll be back at the food stalls. I’ll call you, but we meet here after the concert, okay?"

"Okay, mom, now please can I go? The opening band is about to start!" 

"Alright. And Serah?" 

The fourteen-year-old stopped in her tracks to turn back and glare at her mom. "What!"

"Have fun." Okay, it was true: Lexa liked to torture her daughter sometimes, but just a little bit, so she wouldn’t get completely lost in her head. One of her books said it was a way to bond with teenagers.

A small smile cracked Serah’s frown, and she nodded, all limbs and gracelessness as she followed the flow of screaming girls to the front of the stage.

Lexa had no idea what she had done to have a daughter who liked boy bands, but there she was, escorting her only baby to said band’s show. Lexa had been a hardcore punk at that age, parading black, rebellion, and a couple real, unmemorable tattoos. At the same time, that was the lifestyle that led to an early pregnancy, so maybe having a daughter who loved bands with an odd number of boys was a good thing.

Lexa looked back at the kiosks line and started to look for anything that said coffee when someone stumbled at her back. Lexa tripped forward but reacted in time to hold the person, who would for sure fall on the dirty grass if Lexa hadn’t reached for their hips and arms.

"Oh my God, mom! You’re so clumsy!"

"I’m so sorry," the woman in Lexa’s arms said, flushing a beautiful shade of pink. Lexa’s hands were warm where she touched her.

"Mom!"

They broke apart at the teenager's yelling at them.

"Are you alright?" Lexa asked, but the woman faced the teen instead.

"I tripped because you’ve been running since the gate. Now where’s your phone?"

"I have it. Now can I go?"

"Don’t lose your phone!"

"I won’t!" The teen bobbed her head in excitement, her tight curls, a coppery shade of auburn, bouncing in her head. "Now can I go? The opening band is on the stage!"

"Yeah, but stay close to your phone!" The woman’s plea was lost as her daughter rushed in the same direction Serah had disappeared into.

"They always seem to lose the phone," Lexa said, and she found herself staring at that pink blush again.

"Right?  And fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trip all over you."

"It’s okay. This grass is horrible." Lexa looked down at the woman’s red converse, a stark contrast to her boots.

"Do you want some coffee? Or a drink?" Lexa looked up again to get lost in freckles and blue. "I’m sorry, maybe my daughter is right and I’m always talking too much," the woman continued before Lexa could respond. "I don’t even know if you’re here with a partner or whatever; I just assumed you’d be another mom."

"I’m mom. I mean, yes, I’m with my fourteen-year-old. She also ditched me for the opening band."

"I think they all sound the same."

"And coffee sounds good. I’m going to need some to survive the night. And—" Lexa cleared her throat, falling into step next to the woman "—No partner. It’s just me and Serah." There was that beautiful blush again.

"Coffee it is, then. And it’s just me and that thirteen-year-old you met. Lumi. But she’ll tell you she’s fourteen. This is her birthday present, actually."

They sat at the kiosk, far from the screaming crowd, with the bartender making espresso shot after espresso shot for the multiple parents. A couple dads talked about football next to their stools while a flock of suburban moms ordered margaritas.

"I’m Lexa." She extended her hand and offered to pay for the coffee.

"Clarke." She accepted the coffee with another blush, and Lexa realized she loved to watch those cheeks fire up. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad concert after all.

0000

Lexa wasn’t sure how that happened. Okay, maybe she had a clue, since the only time she had been with a man ended up with Serah, and she had enough flings with coworkers to have a certain reputation in her station. But whatever the reasons, Lexa was not complaining about having Clarke’s tongue in her mouth or her legs wrapped tightly around her as they made out behind the dirty alley of stalls that served terrible coffee. Under the sound of broken-hearted love, Lexa pressed closer until Clarke moaned in her mouth, all velvet and want. Lexa pulled back to allow curious lips to explore her neck and moaned low under Clarke’s ears. Clarke pressed harder, uncaring that the two single, thirty-something moms were dry-humping in the dark while their daughters screamed at hairless boys.

"You okay?" Lexa whispered the question when Clarke hissed after a hard kiss.

"Oh, I’m great!" Clarke gasped, finding Lexa’s lips again. "It’s just... it’s been a while. Single mom and all."

Lexa nodded. She knew the drama.

"I wish I could touch you," Lexa confessed between blonde tresses, inhaling the lingering scent of rose shampoo. Clarke moaned in response, grinding harder on Lexa’s thigh. "I bet you’re—"

The loud ringing of their phones cut off Lexa’s, admittedly, dirty talk, and they parted at the accompanying vibrations in their pockets.

"Shit," Clarke mumbled as she checked her phone. There was a lack of endless screams in the air. "I think the concert’s already ended."

Lexa was focused on her phone, Serah’s calls and texts, typing furiously back. "Let’s go back to the stalls."

"Oh, shit." Clarke, flushed and grinning with kiss-swollen lips, placed both hands on Lexa’s abs, stopping her. "I might have given you a hickey. Sorry." Lexa’s eyes widened, and she touched her neck. "The other side… I think you should lose the braid."

And that was how Lexa found her daughter in front of the coffee stall, typing furiously on her phone. "Mom!" she yelled when Lexa approached.

"Hey, honey, how was it?" Lexa placed both hands in her pockets, running her fingers through her hair.

"Why are you acting weird? And what happened to your braid?"

"Mom!" They looked to see Clarke hugging her daughter; there was an excited squeak between them. "It was awesome!"

"I’m glad, baby." Clarke waved at Lexa, and Serah looked between them, eyes narrowing.

"Clarke." Lexa cleared her throat when Clarke approached while holding her daughter’s hands. "This is my daughter, Serah."

"Hi," Serah said while eyeing Clarke up and down.

"Hey. This is Lumi, my daughter."

"Hi." Lumi waved at Serah, then saw the pin in her jacket. "Which song is your favorite from the new album?"

Serah’s frown melted into a smile as the girls started to talk about the show. Lexa took a step closer to Clarke but didn’t touch her. "Where did you park?"

"Oh." Lexa would never get tired of seeing that beautiful blush. "We took the bus here. We’ll probably Uber back."

"Can I offer you a ride?"

"It’s alright, we’re used to it." Both moms stared at the girls as they talked non-stop about the concert and the band, and Clarke shrugged. "Yeah, a ride would be nice." 

As they walked to the parking lot, Serah pulled Lexa to one side. "Mom."

"What’s up, kiddo? I hope you don’t mind that we’re giving them a ride."

"It’s not that." Serah kicked a pebble on the dirty road parking lot. "Lux is fun. I want to be friends with her."

"That’s great."

Serah kept staring at Lexa, their eyes so much alike that it gave Lexa the chills sometimes, like now. Lexa did have a reputation, but she also had a daughter who was too smart for her own good.

"Please don’t ruin this," Serah pleaded. "Don’t make it like my swim teacher. Or my violin teacher."

"You didn’t even like violin."

"That’s not the point."

"We got a discount for three months."

"Lux is nice, and she also has a PS4. Please don’t mess up with her mom, please."

Lexa scoffed. "Why do you even—"

"You have a hickey, mom."

Damn kid. 

"Alright, I’ll behave. For you," she promised.

Serah kissed Lexa’s cheek. "I love you, mom."

Lexa looked behind them to find Clarke listening to her daughter, but her eyes were focused on Lexa. She winked, her cheeks flushed with the wind. 

Okay, Lexa might be in trouble with that promise.

[el-yon]

death and princess

bleach pilot AU has been brought up on tags today and the drabble is coming out of my cage. This is simply Rukia and Orihime bonding. It is silly, sweet, and comforting, and that’s all there is to it. Also on Ao3. 

Summary:

Orihime is a soul, Rukia is a mess, Heaven is closed for them, and Enraku is very judgmental.

Karakura Town

“ooooh, and how does this Shinigami-thing work? Does Kurosaki-kun have to do this everyday? Also, how old are you, Kuchiki-san? Can I pass through walls, now? Waaaah, I can’t believe I told Kurosaki-kun I had to come back to take care of things in my house for my funeral… his father owns the mortuary! What if they arrange my funeral? This is so embarrassing….!”

The girl fusses and even though there is no blood circulating within her, she raises her hands to her cheeks in embarrassment as if she was blushing

“… darn it… you don’t talk to the guy you like about your funeral, right? I-I mean, I don’t like, like him, I just… oh dear, what is he going to think, I’m such a klutz…. I need a donut…OH, WAIT, Kuchiki-san, can I still eat?!“

Rukia’s mouth open and closes a few times as the girl – well, the girl’s spirit – asks her a thousand questions. Some of which she has the answers to, some were trickier and she quite wished someone could answer for her, as well. And while she found the teenage romance amusing, she did not have the time for it - not right now, anyway.

Because the one question Orihime did not ask – how could she; she had no idea the depths of the trouble they were in – was the one question tying up all the others. The one question pounding in her hear, hanging over her, over them, like a blade against their throats, and she could not even see who was holding it.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

There she was, back to her normal self, yet unable to go back to Soul Society, sitting on a dead-girl’s living room with her silly – however adorable – pink teddy bear staring directly at her, as if it was judging her. They had just returned from her failed, embarrassing attempt to cross over to Soul Society, and both her – and the innocent person next to her – were denied entrance.

But… she’s an innocent soul!

If her pleads were even heard, it would be more than she would expect. 

Soul Society was not known for its forgiveness, nor its flexibility when it came to rules.… 

she should know.

And yet, it ached. Deep within her chest.

How could this happen?

All she wanted was to do her job.

This kid with unusual high-density spiritual energy shows up, is nearly killed and, to save his life, she gives him powers.… And she is stripped of hers.

Rukia sighs. Nothing has prepared her for this.

‘aaaaah? Kuchiki, get back on your feet!’

She could almost hear him.

‘… Yo, Rukia… chins up!’

… She missed hearing him.

If only she could reach out to one of them.

But one was dead.

And the other…

The other was unreachable.

The thought clutches her throat, and she swallows, clenching her hands as if the last time they touched happened just a few seconds before, instead of decades.

“… oh, and what do I tell my landlady….?”

“I don’t know!”

The words escape her, and Rukia regrets it the second Orihime’s eyes widen tremble.

The girl does not seem to get angry at her, which only made the matters worst. It was the oddest of feelings, but looking at those brown, watery eyes filled with fear and wonder, Rukia felt a rush of sympathy.

And it got to her.

“… Sorry, Inoue…” She coughed “.. I… I don’t know what to do next, really. I….” She sighs, trying to relax her shoulders “… I I need some time to think…”

“… oh… ” Orihime speaks, softly, and the erratic, vibrant energy from a few seconds before gradually fade away. In its stead, a calm, warm humming silence fills the room, and Rukia instantly felt herself being enveloped in tranquility as the girl seats down in front of her

“… Sorry for my rambling, Kuchiki-san… I was just overwhelmed, hehe…”

“… yeah… you and me both….” She answers, partly smiling, partly snorting as she turns away to gaze at the night sky, crossing her line of sight with the obnoxious teddy bear again.

“… Oh, right, I forgot to introduce you!” The girl beams, snapping Rukia out of her thoughts before she could drift into gloom-driven ideas. Still, she jumped back on worry-mode.

Introduce me to who, exactly?

She feels her face ask the question, as if also asking “what is it, this time?!”, yet as Orihime’s eyes sparkle, all she manages is a poor pronounced

“… huh…?”

“Enraku!” She points to the tiny creature “… He doesn’t talk much, but he observes a lot…! He’s actually a good company, but you need to give him time, you see…”

As if the absurdity of the situation was not enough, Orihime turns to speak to the toy.

“Look, Enraku, you’re making Kuchiki-san feel self-conscious!” She picks it up and shoves it in front of her, faking a low-pitched voice “… Please, accept my apologies, Kuchiki Rukia-sama! Make yourself at home”

Rukia's face reflect her utter shock at the turn of events….... yet she deeply appreciated it.

“…. H-hi…” She stutters, then scratches her throat, making her own theatre-pitched voice that she was, in fact, very proud of “…pleased to make your acquaintance, Enraku-sama, thank you for your hospitality”

Orihime lets out a soft giggle, and offers her a gentle smile.

Rukia takes it.

“… so…. I’m going to explain everything to you… and we’ll figure things out as we go, ok?”

“Ok!”

She answered in the most optimistically-sounding “ok” Rukia had ever heard anyone say, and while she could not answer what would be of their fate, she knew what she was supposed to do now.

She had chosen to be a Shinigami.

And he might have not been there with her now, but they made this choice together.

It was the promise of optimism.

It slipped right through their fingers.

Again, and again.

Not this time.

She would be a Shinigami, even if it got taken away from her. She was going to keep that promise.

She saved the kid’s life. Now, she would help this kid, too.

“Ok… alright… so, first, I’m going to need a scrapbook. And pencils.”

“Oh…! Then, we’re in luck!” Orihime beams, rushing to dresser unit on the other side of the room, crouching towards the bottom drawer “… aha!”

She points, triumphantly, to the unit filled with all sorts of crayons, glitter pens, highlighters and stickers – much richer than anything Ichigo had within his study materials.

Yes, Rukia thought to herself.

Things could actually be looking up.