#fic under 1k

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

I have a sickfic prompt for you!

Okay, so imagine Peter sick in bed. Tony babysitting because May has to work. Before May leaves she mentions to Tony, “Can you grab his pjs out of the laundry? He always wants a particular pair when he’s feeling sick-“

And Tony doesn’t think anything of it. So he goes to grab Peter’s clothes and sees the pjs…

Are a tourist shirt and Hello Kitty pants

This ask came in all the way back in March. It was a fun idea so I held into, hoping to eventually turn it into a mini-fic. Well, friends. Today is the day. Have a big dose of soft, guilty Tony and sick, cuddly-warm Peter.

Hello Kitty Pajamas - 826 Words

“May! May, I’m here!” Tony called as he let himself into the Parkers’ apartment. He’d received a message an hour prior requesting his presence. Specifically, so he could babysit a significantly ill spider-baby while his aunt went in for a mandatory shift. He’d hesitated at first because was he really the best choice? May had assured him there was no one else. And that even if there were, she was sure Peter wouldn’t want anyone but him. An unfamiliar warmth had bloomed in his chest, prompting him to obtain his keys.

“Sorry!” May called from down the hall. “I'm sorry! He sweat right through his clothes. I was changing the sheets, so you didn’t have to.”

Tony pulled a face without meaning to. A slight laugh escaped May’s lips as a result.

“He’s in the shower now. That should help with a lot of the congestion.” she paused, sighed and twisted her lip between her teeth. “I know he’s old enough to take care of himself. I just- with his fever going up and down so rapidly I didn’t want him to be here alone. Just in case.”

“It’s fine, May. You know I don’t mind spending time with him,” he said, keeping his voice as steady and nonchalant as possible. “Thanks for changing the sheets, though. Housekeeping isn’t really my thing.” They both knew, without a doubt, that he’d do it again if needed. But neither of them commented on it.

"Shoot! How did it get so late? I really need to get going.” He watched May scramble to find her purse and keys. “His favorite pajamas are in the dryer. Can you grab those for him?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks again, Tony,” May said, already halfway out the door. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Tony smiled and waved to her toward the hall. “Any time, May. You know that.”

Once she was gone, he located the laundry area and opened the dryer. Inside was a heap of towels of varying sizes. Among them, he managed to stop a white shirt and some pink fuzzy pants. Although it wasn’t until he hauled them out that he realized what they were. Hello Kitty was patterned across the bottoms, and the top was the over-sized tourist shirt. He suddenly realized it was the outfit he’d purchased the kid directly after their first argument. He blew out a breath as an image of Peter, wearing that exact outfit with tears running down his cheeks popped into his head. Guilt began to swirl in his gut. He dug around in the dryer hoping to find different pajamas. He couldn’t fathom how those could possibly be Peter’s favorite. Unsuccessful, he clutched the shirt and pants tightly in his fist and carried them to the restroom door.

“Pete?” he called. “I’m putting your PJ’s outside the door.”

“Thanks,” Peter rasped, coughing harshly after. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Take your time, Bud. No rush.”

Tony sat down on the couch. His leg bounced and his fingers tapped on his knee as he thought more about that decidedly horrible day. The whole thing has been his fault, really. If he’d just told the kid he’d called the FBI… He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand down his face. God, he’d been a jerk. He shouldn't have shouted in the kid’s face and really shouldn't have taken the suit. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

“Hey,” Peter said as he rounded the corner. “Sorry, May made you come.”

Tony swallowed with difficulty. The sight of the pajamas making his stomach churn. “I-”

“Are you okay?” Peter interjected.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Tony quipped. Peter continued to frown. “I’m fine. Just- thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Definitely,” Tony agreed, then sucked in a breath. “May said those are your favorite pajamas.”

Peter hummed positively and dropped down onto the couch. “They’re comfortable.”

Tony's brow furrowed. “They don’t make you think about that day?”

“Sometimes,” Peter shrugged. “But mostly they make me think about you.”

A warm wet head landed on Tony’s shoulder. Water soaked through his shirt. He found he didn’t really mind. “I’m so sorry, Kid,” he whispered. “I really didn’t handle that situation very well. I didn’t communicate with you the way I should have, I lost my temper when that backfired, then I took it all out on you. I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me?”

“Already did,” Peter yawned. “Like- a long time ago.”

It shouldn’t have been that easy, Tony thought to himself. But Peter is such a good kid… he leaned his cheek against the top of Peter’s head and sighed. “Tired?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t feel so good.”

“Well, let’s get you into your bed, hmm? May changed the sheets and everything.”

Peter nodded and started toward his bedroom. Tony followed behind, smiling softly as the kid exhaustedly crawled under the covers. Astonishingly, the sight of the pajamas didn’t bother him so much anymore. He traversed the room and ran his fingers through his kid’s hair.

“Sleep well, Kiddo,” he murmured. “I’ll be out there if you need me.”

#happyaspie mini fic #under 1k #fic under 1k #tumblr mini fic #peter parker #tony stark #may parker #spider-man #iron man #irondad and spiderson #marvel #mcu #irondad #aunt may #sick peter parker #sick character #mildly sick- like- it's a cold #fever #pajamas #hello kitty pajamas

[rafeandonlyrafe]

distraction

words: 400

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming

“no, it’s fine.” you sigh, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you pout at rafe, his skin illuminated by the lamp placed on his desk, casting the room in warm light. “you don’t love me anymore, whatever.”

rafes fingers pause their flying over the keyboard as he finally looks over to you, chair swiveling as he faces where you are perched on the edge of his desk. “baby.” he says firmly, a warning in his voice.

“no, no, it’s alright.” you wave your hand like its dispelling his warning. “you don’t love me. you won’t let me sit on your cock. it’s fine.” “princess.” rafe reaches for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “it’s just that i’m busy, darling. i really have to get this done.”

“i’ll sit super still until you’re finished, won’t be a distraction, i swear.” you promise, shifting your hand so you can wrap your pinky around rafes, shaking it to prove your point.

rafe sighs before using your interlocked fingers to pull you closer as you squeal with happiness of finally getting your way. you straddle rafes lap, having already taken your underwear off from under your skirt before entering rafes office, knowing exactly what you wanted from him.

“you’re already hard.” you giggle, reaching between your bodies to undo rafes pants, his bulge clearly straining.

“i got hard the second you walked in the room, bunny.” rafe sighs, leaning back and lifting his hips to let you tug his pants and underwear down to expose his stiff cock.

“then why didn’t you let me ride you?” you whine.

“work.” rafe gestures vaguely towards the computer, not wanting to explain what he has to get done, not when you are lining yourself up with his cock and sinking down with a moan.

“fuck.” rafe groans, one hand coming to grip your ass as you settle against his lap, arms wrapping around him as you lean in, resting your head against his shoulder.

“thank you.” you press a kiss to his neck. “love you.”

“love you too baby.” rafe says, moving his chair back in so he can continue to type. “be still for me, yeah? fuck you after i finish.”

“mhm.” you mumble into his neck, satisfied that you've got rafe stretching your insides, satisfying your craving. you know you won’t be sitting still for long, it’s just a matter of who breaks first, you or rafe.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk

#i feel guilty tagging my taglist for fics under 1k words so like #im sorry #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe x oc #rafe imagine

[steddiehyperfixation]

eddie munson has only ever been kissed in clubs, in crowds, under deafening music and flashing lights with more alcohol in his veins than blood. he knows what it's like to kiss rough and want carnally, to be pushed against walls and dragged into bathroom stalls.

but what is it like to kiss someone and have it mean something? what is it like to know someone's soul, or even just their name, before their lips, before their body?

what is it like to kiss someone and feel something? what is it like to have a kiss make your heart beat louder than the music and set off fireworks in your body brighter than the flashing lights?

that's something he's never known, something he's starting to believe he never will. maybe it's something he's not even capable of knowing.

he's loved before, never been loved in return. the men he's cared for, fallen for, in any real way were always ones who would never be able to care for him the same. the only men willing to kiss him are the ones who dance away at the end of the night and leave only faceless, nameless memories in his hazy mind.

until steve harrington. until a chance encounter in a gay club with a high school crush years after high school has ended.

it's the same old story: too-loud music and strobe lights; drunk and dancing closer, trading glances and smirks until hands land on waists and slide over hips and lips crash together and bodies collide. it's the same old story: kissing hard and wandering hands and grinding hips; eddie gets pressed back into the gross wall damp with the humid sweat of all the other bodies in the room.

but steve doesn't dance away at the end of it. he pulls away with a grin, keeping his fingers entangled with eddie's as he jumps and shouts along to the lyrics of the song that just came on. he dances with eddie innocently then, just for the fun of it, not like he's trying to get any more out of him.

and when he tugs on eddie's hand and drags him from the dance floor, it's not to a bathroom stall but to the bar where he buys eddie a drink and they talk. they catch up on all the years that have passed between them, trade stories and laughter and banter that reawaken eddie's old crush and set it aflutter in his stomach like he's 17 again.

eventually they return to the dance floor. ("i love this song!" steve gasps, eyes lighting up, and how could eddie refuse?). after a song or two, steve pulls eddie into another kiss, hands and lips softer than before, yet still just as passionate.

and the music is still deafening and the lights are still flashing, but this time, finally, eddie's heartbeat is louder, the fireworks brighter.

#idk what this is i'm just projecting onto fictional characters at 2am #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie drabble #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ficlet #mine #(now also on ao3 under the user brokenfandoms) #1k #2k

[nomazee]

enough to make me cry

blade is your only roommate, your only friend, and your only way home from this terrible party you found yourself in.

blade x gn reader — 3.3k — college & roommates au!, very americanized college experiences, frat parties, mentions of drinking & vomiting, could be read as platonic but there are definitely romantic undertones, feelings of inadequacy/being out of place, hurt/comfort, social anxiety, blade is probably ooc i'm gonna be so honest, mild kafka & reader friendship, erggg im probably missing something

notes: no i have to be so honest blade is probably completely out of character i have not played a single side quest with him in it but i just think he has reluctant roommate-to-best friend potential and i wanted to pour that into a fic,,, this is mostly unintelligible but i did proofread! love you all

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A warm hand rests on your shoulder, and the first thing that you think is Blade’s hands are supposed to be cold.

It’s really pathetic. You’re somewhere in a stupid frat house, the thrumming of music around you. There’s the flashing colors and sounds of Mario Kart on the TV, the smell of puke (probably yours) and corona lite, and a hand on your shoulders that you’ve discerned is not your roommate, Blade’s. 

Looking to the side, you follow the hand (painted, manicured nails, definitely still not Blade’s), and it leads up to an arm up to a shoulder up to a face, and—oh. 

“You’re—” you pause, getting your words in order before you puke them up, “you’re Blade’s pretty lady friend?” It’s supposed to come out as a statement, but leans more to a question. She looks down, a bit of a teasing grin on her face, but her eyes are a little soft so you trust her. 

“Is that what he calls me?” she jokes.

“No, I’m— I came up with that.” If you had any dignity left in you, you’d be embarrassed to admit that to her. Unfortunately, you’re pretty sure that Kafka (the pretty lady friend in question) just held your hair back and wiped your face as you puked into a frat-house toilet, flushing your dignity away with your dinner. Your eyes burn with tears and mortification, and you pray that only Kafka saw your embarrassing mishaps.

“I called him to pick you up,” she tells you, already looking away from you and scanning the room as if looking for something, or someone. “I would take you home myself, but I’ve got some things to take care of. And I’m assuming you didn't bring your keys with you?” 

A quick pat-down of your pockets confirms that, yes, you somehow managed to leave your keys at home, the one personal necessity that you were supposed to bring besides your phone. Which, thankfully, you do at least have.

“Umm, the…” you mutter, tongue tangling uselessly as you try to find a way out of here without facing the impending doom of Blade’s aggravated scolding and his I told you so’s. 

A week ago, you went to him with an invite to this frat party and begged him to come with you, saying something like You don’t go out much, this is your chance! He’d adamantly refused, calling it a bad idea and rolling his eyes whenever you brought it up. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to have a fun college experience, so you forced him to drive you to the party with the promise of paying for his next gas payment and getting your own ride back home at the end of the night. 

“I can go,” you finally tell Kafka, mind stringing along memories and thoughts and alarm bells of get your ass home before you have to sit in an awful car ride with Blade, “It’s, like, a fifteen minute walk, don’t call him.” 

“It’s a little too late for that, kid,” Kafka drawls, amusement in her words. She’s smiling down at you, and you’re reminded of how small you feel. “He’s already on the way.” 

“No!” you protest, a little too loudly, but not loud enough to be heard over the thumping of music and bodies and voices. “It’s— Kafka, please, just tell him to turn around, I really don’t want him to deal with me today.” 

If you knew her even less, you’d misinterpret the twitch in her expression as concern—but you’re not too dumb, so you read it as amusement. “Trust me, he’s not going to have a problem with that. You’ll be fine.” 

Whatever that means. Kafka’s too cryptic for your liking, but you won’t complain. She wiped up your vomit from the dirty bathroom tiles and stayed with you to make sure you didn't get trampled, and she didn't complain about any of that. In a week, when you have enough strength to face her again, you’ll treat her to a good, expensive, flaky pastry. She seems like the kind of person who would love those. 

Her phone buzzes with a text notification, and she clicks her tongue, standing up and pulling you with her. Her hand is still warm, seeping through the sleeve of your shirt as she takes you by the forearm, gentle but guiding. Your stomach churns at the thought of seeing Blade, the thought of him seeing you like this. Freshly-puked-out with a nasty stomachache all because of a party that he told you not to go to. 

You hold back your protests as Kafka leads you through the still-crowded frat house. What time is it? Has nobody gotten bored yet, seriously? At least you didn't kill the mood by running to the bathroom and weeping into the toilet. It seems like nobody noticed, except for Kafka, and you don’t know if that should make you feel comforted or just more upset. 

The cool air of the night hits you as you step through the front door, eyes tracking your feet as you walk down the concrete steps. You see the silhouette of Blade’s ugly blue car in your peripheral vision, but you don’t want to look up in fear of seeing the disappointment on his face so soon. He’s going to rip you a new one, and then call you a slob and kick you out of the apartment and say I can’t have a party fiend living with me even though this was your first party ever, honest. 

You barely register that you’ve reached the passenger side of Blade’s car, only coming back to awareness when Kafka opens the door for you and starts nudging you into the seat. A really pathetic part of you wants to grab onto her arm and cry hard enough that she just relents and lets you walk home, but you’re already half into the passenger seat, looking everywhere but Blade. 

“Take care of them, won’t you, Bladie?” Kafka commands lightly, her hand leaving your arm as you get situated and buckled up in the car. Blade lets out a little huff in response and your stomach sinks. He’s already annoyed. 

The car ride to your apartment is only five minutes at this time of night. You just have to survive five minutes in silence and pray that he doesn’t tear into you and scold you like a disappointed parent. A glance at the clock on the car’s console confirms that it’s half past midnight. What the fuck. What were you even doing at the party for that long, besides vomiting and crying? 

The car rumbles, exhaust sputtering a little bit as Blade pulls out from the side of the street and drives slowly, carefully, as if not to rattle you, and you really just want him to speed up and throttle the car around so you feel more guilty about waking him up in the middle of the night to come pick you up. Blade goes to bed at eleven, the latest. You can’t imagine why Kafka thought it would be a good idea to call him, of all people, but then you remember that you kind of don’t have any other friends on campus. Your chest tightens at the thought. 

Blade makes some kind of sniffling noise, his way of trying to initiate some kind of conversation. There’s not even any music playing, because he always drives in dead silence because he’s abnormal, and on any other day you’d tease him about it like you always do. You see him turn his head to you in the corner of your eye, but you refuse to acknowledge him. You wish he’d just start scolding you, yelling at you or something. 

Tears prickle behind your eyes, painfully so, but your hands tighten around each other in your lap as you will yourself to not cry like a baby in front of your roommate. He lets out another sigh, but it doesn’t sound angry, just tired, and somehow that makes you feel worse. 

“What were you guys even drinking?” is his question of voice, and it’s the one question you didn't want him to ask, and you can’t help it when the tears spill over and you bring your hand up to wipe them away frantically, hiccuping a little bit as your gut churns. 

“What—” Blade stutters, and he never stutters, and you see him whip his head around to look at you, crying into your hands over a simple question, and you just want to leave the car and walk home like you told Kafka you would do. He pulls over to the side of some residential street. There’s a dog barking in a yard and wind chimes clinking together, and you think of your handmade bottle cap wind chime hung in the balcony of yours and Blade’s apartment, and it just makes you cry more. 

The car comes to a full stop. Blade puts it in park and turns completely to you. You spare a quick glance at him through the gaps between your fingers, and there’s something like worry on his face, which you’ve never seen before. His face is pinched, lips parted as if wanting to say something, but he can’t. He’s waiting for you. 

“I didn't drink anything, Blade,” you sob, feeling miserable at the state of yourself, at how you went to a frat party with nobody you knew and just walked around like a lost child, too scared to drink or talk to anyone, too anxious to say a word. “Not even a shot, or a sip, nothing from the fridge. It was so stupid, you were right, okay? It was a stupid idea, and I shouldn’t have gone.” Your breath catches in your throat, and the car is dead quiet as Blade lets your words sink in. 

You try not to make so much noise when you cry, but you’re sniveling and wiping your face and wishing that he would just stop looking at you like that. You can still see the ruby-red of his eyes even when you can’t bear to look up at him, and it makes you so viscerally upset. 

Blade is beautiful, really, and it makes you so upset that he looks better than you right now despite him being dragged right out of bed by Kafka’s phone call with a request to pick you up just minutes ago. You, who spent hours selecting an outfit, just to feel inadequate and wholly ugly the minute you walked through the door. It felt like you were back in middle school, spending hours with your parents picking out an outfit to a school dance, looking through ties and pants and shoes, just to show up and feel both overdressed and underdressed, feel like a fool, feel like you just can’t look the way everyone else does. Like something is always a little wrong. 

“Kafka said that you got sick. You didn't drink anything? You’re sure?” 

“No,”  you confirm pitifully, wanting him to just drop the topic and drive the rest of the way home and never talk about this again. “I was just anxious, and I puked like an idiot. Kafka helped me, she was the only one that I knew at the party. I don’t know. I don’t remember anymore. I was just anxious.” 

He says your name, not unkindly, but with a prying tone that just makes a fresh wave of tears stream down your face in rivulets. “Why would you go if you didn't know anyone?” 

“I don't know!” you shout, heated with embarrassment. You’re acting like a child, throwing a tantrum and crying and shouting in Blade’s car. The seatbelt is too tight on you. You fiddle with it, pulling it from the juncture of your neck and shoulder and loosening it, scratching your bitten nails against the scratchy cloth and looking out of the car window so that you can avoid Blade’s awful, terrible, intrusive gaze. 

“I just wanted to be normal, or something. I don’t know anybody from any of my classes. I don’t talk to anyone from my major. And then I got the invite for the party somehow and I just thought it would be fun. I don’t know, Blade, I know I should’ve listened to you, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop,” he says firmly, fully turned to you now, as if he wants you to look back at him, to listen to whatever he’s going to say, and that’s the one thing you don’t want to do. You hate that he’s being kind. You wish he’d be sarcastic and mean and cruel, bite into you and feed off your self-pity. But he’s being nice, nice in the same way that he’s nice when he buys the right brand of milk for you (because the others make you sick, and the taste is different), or when he drives you places in his car when it’s raining so that you don’t have to take the buses everywhere, or when he comes home with your ridiculous coffee order that costs a hellacious amount of money with all of your substitutions and additions and flavorings. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says resolutely, leaving no room for argument, “Just— I didn't know you were feeling like that. I would’ve gone with you if you told me you needed someone. I assumed you were going with a friend.” 

You don’t respond with I don’t have any friends, because you’re pretty sure that’s clear enough by now, and you don’t want to confirm what’s already been confirmed a million times over just from the way you act. The way you cling to yours and Blade’s apartment, the way you never spend a second longer than you need to in any of your classes, the way that sometimes, when Blade goes out for class or work, you sit on the couch in silence with your laptop out, doing your work for the week and checking the clock and taking naps so that you don’t have to feel so alone for so long. 

“You didn't want to go,” you say instead, “I wasn’t going to make you just because I’m— I don’t know.” 

“I would’ve gone for you,” he tells you, really tells you, with a force in his words, like he wants to drive the point into you with a stake, driven right through your heart. “I would do a lot of things if you asked. You just need to ask.” 

You don’t— you really don’t want to think about what that means. What he means. You rip your eyes away from the car window and turn to face him. He’s not too close. You almost wish he could be closer, but you would suffocate under the pressure in your stomach and behind your eyes. 

He shouldn’t say things like that, things like You just need to ask, because you’d ask for a lot if given the chance. You’d ask for him to come to parties with you, stay by your side, let you put a hand on his shoulder and guide him around another disgusting frat house as if you know what you’re doing. You’d ask him to sleep in the same bed as you some nights, just a foot away from each other, backs turned to each other but still close enough that you can feel the unnatural coldness that radiates off of Blade. 

You’d ask him to introduce you to Kafka and that other girl they hang out with, to say something stupid and funny like This is my abhorrent roommate, be nice to them, and that way you’d have more contacts in your phone that aren't just Blade and your parents and two old high school friends who you haven’t spoken to in a year. You’d ask him to be a lot more than just a plus-one to a party full of people you’ve never met. 

“I just want to go home,” you breathe out, a guilty confession burning your gums and leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying sorry,” he asserts for the second time tonight, making your lungs squeeze as you puff out a tired exhale. Blade turns back in his seat, taking the car out of park and heading back onto the road—driving slowly, yet again, avoiding cracks and potholes in the road. “You need to eat something. You’ll wake up with a hellish headache if you go to bed dehydrated.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“I said it, so it’s true,” he says petulantly, turning the car down into a road that’s definitely not in the direction of your apartment building. To your hidden delight, the glowing sign of a twenty-four-seven ice cream store comes into view, and you sit up just a little bit. Blade slows the car as he turns into the drive-thru, glancing at you with an eyebrow half-raised. 

“What do you want? I’ll order for you.” 

“I don’t have my wallet,” you admit, just a little bit embarrassed. “I didn't even bring my keys with me. Do you think they take Apple Pay?” 

A breathy laugh escapes him, and you catch sight of a dimple pressed into his cheek, and you want to press your thumb into it and look at his smile, just for a little longer. “Don’t be dumb. I’m paying,” he tells you, the same way he has every time he pays for your cafe drink, or when he comes home from work with your favorite, and says You’re broke enough without having to pay for these drinks, don’t pay me back in that snippy way he shows his care. 

You ask for a medium vanilla milkshake, with sprinkles, and he gets you a large instead, which you’re more than grateful for. He refuses to let you look at the receipt for the total cost, and hands you the milkshake with a comical severity that you often see in him. The sweet drink washes away any bitter taste left in your mouth, and you feel a little better, a little nicer in your haphazard party outfit and under Blade’s fleeting gaze. 

A deep sigh escapes you, one of relief, when the car finally parks at your apartment building. Blade puts a cold hand between your shoulder blades, unobtrusive and leading, and it’s a comforting contrast from the heat lingering on your skin from the party and the closed car. It feels right, more in-place than Kafka’s warm hands were when she wiped your face and kept you steady, though she was just as gentle. 

Blade all but tosses you onto the couch, claiming that it’s much too late for a shower and he’d rather not deal with you collapsing from exhaustion in the tub. You relent easily, the exhaustion of the night hitting you and soaking into your limbs. 

“I’ll let you sleep on the couch,” he says, and it’s a good and kind thing, because he knows that sometimes you hate your bedroom because it’s just too empty, and the constant sound filtering into the living room puts you at ease. He never lets you sleep on the couch, because it’s bad for your back, and he jokes about you developing adult onset scoliosis with the awful way you sleep. Letting you do it, just this once, is another one of his small mercies. 

The TV is on, humming at a low volume, and your legs are thrown across Blade’s lap. You’re shocked that he’s willing to fall asleep with you like this, but he’s kind, sarcastic and biting but kind all the same, as much as he loathes to admit it. It’s not too lonely, you decide, hearing the bottle cap wind chimes on your balcony clink together in dissonant harmonies. 

(There’s a missing text from a new contact on your phone when you wake up, coming from pretty lady friend, extending an invite to brunch in two days, and you kick your legs on the couch in giddy excitement, thinking about how you’ll rope Blade into coming with you, too.)

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taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

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#blade x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #blade hsr x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr ren x reader #thats his name right.......... #blade x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #begging myself to write something under 1k next time #i miss when i had the ability to write short drabbles instead of behemoths #i say this as if i don't have a supernatural blade fic thats already 5k and not even halfway done #THATS the real behemoth #he's so out of character here forgive me #i just like his pretty face #me writing about a frat party when i have yet to even touch the vicinity of a party house

[starrystevie]

based on this headcanon i posted previously!

"what do you mean you've never had a valentine?"

eddie rolls his eyes and swings his arms across his front as if to gesture to his entire being at steve's question.

"consider me flattered that you think all this," he gestures again, "would land me a date at all, but it's not like i even want a valentine in the first place."

they glare at each other as steve picks at his cold diner fries and eddie finishes off his strawberry milkshake. they've landed at a stand still, steve trying to figure out how eddie can experience a real valentine's day, and eddie trying to figure out how to talk steve out of whatever sympathy thing he's planning. he opens his mouth to say something, and before he can get a word out, eddie cuts him off.

"whatever you've got cookin' up in that pretty little head of yours, i want you to stop. i don't want a bullshit pity date on a fake holiday that only puts more money in the hallmark ceo's pockets. forget it."

eddie watches as a grin spreads across steve's face and he knows then and there that there's no way in hell steve will forget it.

it's four days later that eddie is packing what is bound to be the best bowl of his life, feet up on the coffee table and the wizard of oz playing faintly in the background, when he hears a knock at the trailer door. he ignores it with a huff and shakes his curls out of his face, bringing the bowl up to his lips only to be cut off by the knocking once more.

"what?!" eddie yells out. he doesn't want to get up and see who it is. he wants to wallow in the weird liminal space of self-pity and anger about capitalism and smoke weed until the flying monkeys in the movie seem even scarier than they already are. he doesn't want to deal with someone when he feels so crushingly lonely-

"it's me!" steve's voice is muffled through the door. "let me in, munson!"

something vaguely hope-shaped catches in eddie's chest before he pushes it away with a deep breath and a shake to clear his head. "open the door yourself, lazy. it's unlocked."

he hears something hit the door, a loud thump that he thinks might be steve kicking the door, and then hears the door handle rattle for a few seconds before steve clearly gives up with a groan.

"come on, a little help here?"

"this better be fucking worth it," he grumbles under his breath. eddie rolls his eyes and set the pipe down on the coffee table next to his pbr with a huff. "fine, fine, i'm coming hold your horses."

he doesn't really know what he is expecting, but steve with his arms wrapped around a bouquet of daisies, a too-big heart shaped box of chocolates, a stuffed bear and a card is at the bottom of the list. he's smiling that smile, the one that eddie takes a mental picture of and files into the steve-shaped folder in his memory every time he sees it, and he has on a stupidly charming button up shirt to go along with it all.

"what." eddie says blankly, the cold february air making him shiver as it hits his bare arms. steve thrusts the gifts towards him with an even brighter smile that has his eyes crinkling and eddie's heart thumping painfully in his chest.

"be my valentine?" steve breathes out and eddie has half a mind to pinch himself.

"steve, i don't-"

"nope," steve responds and pushes past eddie to get into the warmth of the trailer. "you don't get to say no or tell me it's stupid or that today's only a money grab for the corporate elite or whatever-"

eddie balks as steve beelines to the kitchenette to pull out a large glass to put the flowers in. "it is, though."

"-we're going to sit and order a pizza and eat these stupid, over-priced chocolates for dessert, and you're going to like it."

there's butterflies and knots and something that's too close to love fluttering around in his stomach, so eddie sits down on the edge of the arm of the couch and watches as steve finishes adjusting the bouquet.

"daisies?" eddie asks after a beat of silence.

steve beams. "they're your birth flower so i thought..."

dorothy's in the background saying something about not being in kansas and eddie feels the same.

this is all as foreign to him as tin men and scarecrows and wicked witches would be. he's never had anyone, let alone someone like steve fucking harrington, barge into his house and demand a date. he's never wanted anyone to demand a date out of him, especially on valentine's day of all days. he sees steve reach for a phone book and start searching for a pizza delivery number to call and it all feels right in a way that it probably shouldn't.

"are you fucking with me?" eddie asks. his voice feels small.

steve looks up, face smoothing out from determination to something softer, and puts the phone back in the cradle. he hesitates before grabbing the card and teddy bear, this fuzzy brown thing that's holding a heart that says 'i love you beary much', and hands them to eddie.

"not in the slightest," he tells eddie. with a wave of his hand, steve motions for eddie to open the card before pulling his hand up to his mouth to bite at his thumbnail.

the front of the card is simple, just some hearts with a 'be mine' in a fancy script, but it has eddie's breath catching anyway. it's a real card with real stupid hearts and real meaning behind it and it forces him to pause before he can open the rest. he's too cowardly to admit that he's afraid of whatever it could say.

"open it," steve says like it's the easiest thing in the world and eddie pulls his eyes away from the front of the card to see how steve is staring at the paper like it's going to burst into flames. "but don't read it out loud. please."

it's an easy request to follow. with the card open, eddie glances down to see only a few short sentences written and yet it still hits him like an arrow through his goddamn heart.

you're going to think this is a joke, the card starts, but i promise it's not. it's not pity, either. it's just some crazy little thing called love. be my valentine? xo, steve.

eddie can feel how big his eyes are, wide as dinner plates, as he looks between the card and steve who probably won't be hungry for pizza after he finishes chewing off his thumb out of nerves. a laugh sneaks out in a gust of wind through his nose and it has steve wincing despite himself, which has eddie rushing into action.

"you mean it?" he asks, wrapping his hands around steve's shoulders. their eyes meet and steve looks as scared as eddie feels as he nods with a watery laugh of his own.

"yeah, i mean it. you haven't had a valentine and what better way to start than with a harrington that is absolutely nutty over you?"

the tin man is the background singing something about having a heart while eddie's beats out of his chest as steve connects their lips in a soft kiss. and eddie might be against valentine's day, against capitalism and the mass-produced niceties that it brings to the everyday consumer, but if steve keeps pressing into him like this, it might just become his favorite holiday yet.

#under a read more solely for length! #daisies for april cause eddie is an april aries okay #steddie #steddie headcanon #steddie fic #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #1k

[gardenoflupins]

Angel/Demon AU / @wolfstarmicrofic / 989 words

CW: sexual content, drugs & alcohol

Remus points a blessed sword against the side of the demon’s throat, eyes narrowed in his direction. He feels Minerva McGonagall’s divine energy as she apparates beside Remus.

“Leave her alone,” he warns in a low voice.

The demon, Sirius, slowly turns around with raised brows. Both Minerva and Remus scowl at him. Sirius had always been a threat to them. Always found a way to corrupt humans, especially the ones assigned to specific angels.

He always got his way.

“She isn’t doing anything she doesn’t want to,” he replies, unbothered about the divine beings in front of him. You’d need to be a major nuisance to have not one, but two angels corner you. And yet, he was indifferent.

Minerva steps forward, quiet and lethal. “You are encouraging a range of unhealthy activities. Drinking, drugs, luring her to this…” she scrunches her nose at the club they were standing outside of.

Sirius grins as if they’re all sharing a mutual joke. “I know, isn’t it fun?”

Minerva looks down her nose at him like he is nothing but filth. “She is under our guidance.”

“Is she?” Sirius asks innocently.

Marlene McKinnon stumbles out of the club in that moment, bottle in hand as she sings out of key. Remus doesn’t need to check to feel the drugs in her system.

Minerva thins her lips. They had lost another one. If there was one thing Remus knew very well, it was that angels were not as forgiving as humans made them out to be.

Remus redirects his sword so it’s right under Sirius’s chin, almost touching him before Sirius flinches away. Blessed weapons had the ability to injure a demon painfully. “You turn them all like you. You ruin everything good. Nothing thrives in your presence. You are a leach,” Remus hisses.

Sirius’s eyes flash in warning. “Careful, angel. Don’t forget I’m not above tearing the wings off your back.”

Minerva tenses and Remus can see her calculating. He knows she is thinking about killing him. He also knows that they’re both aware that they can’t. Not when Sirius belongs to a dangerous family. Killing him would cause a chain of events they didn’t want to deal with.

This is why Remus had come. To make sure someone didn’t die.

Another woman walks out of the club and makes her way to Marlene. Remus watches as she pulls her in for an embrace. Marlene grins up at her before leaning in for a deep kiss.

Minerva’s wings ruffle in agitation at the display.

A tremor goes through Remus’s own, for reasons other than annoyance.

“We will guide her back,” Minerva cautions, wings pulled tight. “Outside of drugs, you have nothing. You are nothing. She will come to the same realisation.”

Sirius glowers at her then directs it to Remus. “What makes you think I won’t torture him. He’s also nothing. There’d hardly be a consequence.”

That much was true. Minerva was more like Remus’s… mentor. She was a higher up. He was, well, replaceable.

She gives him a deadpan look. “I’ll kill you.”

With that, she disapparates.

Remus watches Sirius with stiff shoulders, feathers ruffling from anticipation. They stare at each other, both bracing for bloodshed.

They wait and wait and Remus realises no other angel is coming.

Sirius seems to realise it too.

He is on Remus in a second, hand on Remus’s throat to pin him against the wall. Remus lets out a grunt at the force as Sirius drops his hand to pin him by the hips instead. Remus shivers when he feels Sirius’s hot tongue sliding down his throat. His mouth opens instinctively and he tugs at Sirius’s hair to connect their mouths.

It should be mortifying how quickly that hot liquid of desire spreads through Remus. He is already moaning lightly against Sirius’s mouth, tugging, tugging, tugging to get him even closer.

“My beautiful angel,” Sirius whispers against him, leaving wet kisses across his jaw. Remus sighs contently, spreading his legs so Sirius can be between them. When that doesn’t feel close enough, he attempts to wrap his legs around the other’s waist. Sirius gets the message instantly and indulges him.

Remus loves the closeness.

“Have they been nice?” Sirius murmurs, still leaving kisses across his body.

Remus ignores him. “Stop stealing my humans. You’re going to make it obvious,” he breathes out shakily.

He feels Sirius grin against his throat. “No, they won’t suspect anything. We hate each other.”

Remus arches against him with a gasp when Sirius’s hand slips under his shirt and up his body. “Absolutely loathe each other,” Remus agrees breathily.

He holds Sirius close, deepening the kiss as Sirius tenderly strokes his wing.

“Missed you,” Remus mumbles and Sirius hums. “I missed you too, had to get your attention.”

Remus tries to pull back to give him a disapproving look but Sirius just leans in to kiss his furrowed eyebrows.

Remus gives up. “You’re going to leave traces of yourself on me.”

“I’ll wipe my aura off you,” Sirius mumbles, still peppering him with kisses anywhere he could reach.

“Oh,” a voice says. Remus pulls back to look at Marlene who begins to grin widely. “Fuck yeah Sirius, this is a win for the gays tonight.”

Sirius looks at her smugly as she drags her lover away, saying something about recreating what Sirius was doing. Remus is instantly curious about that interaction as it wasn’t common to directly interact with humans. Both Remus and Sirius were glamoured to look more human so she hadn’t seen the wings or horns.

Sirius mistakes the look on Remus’s face. “She’s fine, just partying,” he says, knowing Remus was still an angel at the end of the day.

Remus can’t even think to reply because Sirius is leaving love bites, pulling pleasurable sighs out of Remus and oh, does it feel lovely.

Sirius had won twice today.

Corruption, afterall, was his strongest ability.

#i bet u guys experienced whiplash #the second reread has a different tone #in public? how indecent. what have u done to him sirius #my fics #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fanfic #i’m mourning that i couldnt fit marlenes story in there along with more about sirius and remus #keeping my fics under 1k is a challenge 😮‍💨 #wolfstar fic #wolfstar fanfiction #sirius x remus #wolfstar microfic #sirius/remus #demon sirius #angel remus #wolfstar angel/demon au

[theicarusconstellation]

kinktober day seven

prompt: virgin // pairing: jegulus // word count: 1.3K // includes: cunnilingus, daddy kink, daddy!james, sub!regulus, trans regulus

“Hey, baby,” James murmurs, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around Regulus’ waist. He presses his face into the other man’s curls with a deep inhale.

Regulus turns around and meets James’ waiting mouth with his own. He can taste pomegranate juice on his lips.

It’s been a long day for the both of them. Despite being new Hogwarts alumni, their collective fortunes make it so that they don’t need to work, but James insisted on enlisting into the Auror program anyway. He’s gone for hours at a time, sometimes at night, to complete his training, and every day, he comes back dead on his feet.

Regulus, on the other hand, does no work at all. Waiting for James is work enough. They might be a bit codependent, but he couldn’t care less, honestly. His world spins when James is with him, and it stops when he’s gone. That’s all that matters to him.

“How was training?” Regulus asks between kisses. James is always extra touchy after work, always cuddling and kissing like his life depends on it. Tonight though, he’s practically lifting Regulus up off his feet with his arms as his mouth travels up and down his neck.

“Good. Fine. Tiring,” James replies, the words rushed like he can’t get them out fast enough. Regulus pulls back for a moment, raising a brow.

“Are you alright?”

“Very,” James mumbles. Regulus sucks in a breath as the other man’s teeth capture the soft skin of his neck. “A little tense though. Missed you a lot.” He runs his hands up Regulus’ body until they’re cupping his face and kisses him fiercely.

There’s something different about the way James is touching him tonight. They’re usually very intense, sure, but they’ve never…he’s touching Regulus like this time, he wants something more.

They’ve talked about it. Sex. Talked about what they’d like and wouldn’t like. However, Regulus neglected to mention a very crucial detail that seemed pathetic to say in the presence of James Potter at the time, and he’s been too prideful to bring it up ever since. Now though, with James touching him more and more insistently, a question burning between his palms against Regulus’ hips, he knows he has to.

“Baby…” James whispers below his ear. Regulus shudders and leans into his chest. That same unspoken question wraps around them like a blanket.

Instead of answering verbally, Regulus loops his arms around James’ neck and hides his face in the man’s shoulder, hopping to allow James to press his hands to his thighs and hoist him up. James carries him through the flat to their bedroom despite his obvious exhaustion from Auror training. He sets him on his back on their bed and props himself up over him, barely letting him breathe before going in for another deep kiss.

“James,” Regulus half-gasps as James’ hands begin working Regulus’ shirt off. “I haven’t — I’ve never —“

James stops immediately and falls to his side so that he’s laying beside him, concern in his eyes.

“What? Reg, are you…you know I don’t care that you’re trans, right? You know that, right? I promise, Regulus, I don’t —“

“It’s not about that.” Regulus shakes his head. He feels his cheeks flush hot and bright. “It’s not…it’s…James, I’m a virgin.”

James’ eyes go wide, and his perfect, perfect mouth drops in a way that makes Regulus want to crawl under the floorboards and never come out.

“Oh. Oh, Regulus, I’m sorry. I should have — Merlin, how did I not — I’m so stupid. I’m sorry, baby,” he rambles, frantically kissing Regulus’ face. “We don’t have to — shit, I’m so stupid —“

“You’re not stupid, James, I was just too embarrassed to tell you,” Regulus snaps in the firm tone he always uses whenever James starts to berate himself. “You’ve been with so many people before…I just thought…maybe you wouldn’t want me.”

James blinks furiously, looking wildly confused.

“Wouldn’t want you? Regulus, I want you more than anything. I don’t give a fuck about experience or — or whatever people told you the standard was,” he insists. Regulus shakes his head, but a smile tugs at his lips.

“Besides, “ James continues with a new spark in his eyes. “I’m a very good teacher.”

“Hm?” Regulus’ breath catches when he feels the pressure of James’ hand on his waist.

“If you’ll let me…” James kisses him again, more tender this time, and his hand snakes its way under Regulus’ pants.

“I’ll let you,” Regulus breathes. His heart pumps faster in agreement, let you, let you, let you.

“We’re not going to do everything all at once,” James says, which has Regulus feeling oddly disappointed. “You’ve touched yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. We can go a bit further then.” James slides Regulus’ pants off, tossing them over his shoulder like they’ve offended him. Regulus’ legs are already shaking when James places his hands on his inner thighs and gently spreads them apart.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans.

Regulus’ fingers clench into a fist against the sheets as James attaches his mouth to his thighs, teasing at the skin with his tongue. James sucks dark hickeys into his pale skin, surrounded by bite marks that have Regulus swallowing back moans as they get closer and closer to the wetness between his legs.

“You still okay?” James lifts his head, and as he does, his glasses brush against Regulus’ folds. Regulus bites back a yelp, nodding feverishly.

“Yes,” he manages to get out. James doesn’t wait for further confirmation after that. He kisses Regulus’ hip, and then he lowers his head again, licking a slow line up between Regulus’ legs.

James goes at a leisurely pace, and Regulus feels every fucking second of it. James’ mouth sucks at the most tender of places, and when he bobs his head, the cool metal of his glasses teases Regulus’ clit with a shocking but welcome touch.

“D-daddy —“ Regulus whimpers the first time it happens, the word slipping out like it’s instinctual. He slaps a hand over his own mouth at this, thoroughly mortified, but James doesn’t miss a beat. He just hums happily, and his tongue takes on new enthusiasm as it flicks in and out of Regulus’ hole.

“Again,” he says lowly from somewhere deep within his throat. Regulus whines, his back arching when James licks at his hole again.

“Daddy,” Regulus whispers, “Daddy, please —“

“Good boy, baby,” James replies as he hooks his arms under Regulus’ thighs. Regulus can’t help the loud moan that he releases at James’ words. He wants to hear that over and over, wants to hear what a good boy he is, just for James.

“Fuck, Daddy —“ Regulus cries out much louder than he intended. James is properly sucking and licking at his clit now, swirling his tongue around it and lapping at it with quicker and quicker motions.

Regulus has no idea what an expert is actually like, but if he had to put a face to the word, it would be James. James and his masterful mouth and fucking excellent motions of his lips. The coil within Regulus’ stomach is so, so tight, squeezing and making him shake with need.

“Daddy, I’m — mm —“ Regulus’ voice breaks as James brushes his teeth against his clit, just enough to send a shock through him. “Coming,” he barely manages to gasp out before he’s rocked with the peak of his pleasure, his orgasm ripping through him in what feels like endless waves. James eats him out through the whole thing until Regulus tugs him away by the hair.

Tremors still spasm through Regulus’ body as he draws James up to his lips for a tired kiss. He can taste himself when their mouths meet.

“So, was I a good teacher?” James inquires with a smug smile. His lips are swollen, and Regulus suspects his might be as well.

“Teach me again tomorrow,” is all Regulus can breathlessly say in response.

James chuckles and pulls him closer, guiding him so that his head is against James’ chest.

“Anything for you, baby.”

#i am incapable of writing anything under 1K #it’s a problem #a vice #kinktober #regulus black #marauders #jegulus #starchaser #james potter #dom james #sub regulus #trans regulus #daddy james #ao3 writer #sunseeker #writing #jegulus fic

[thisisnotkitty]

Ness tending to Mike's injuries 😭

me when i steal the scene from the movie and make it securitywaiter

-so yknow when mike is like “yeah ill trade in abby for garrett (which like why did he do that lmao) and gets just like mauled by the animatronics

-anyways instead of vanessa finding him ness had actually gone in to snoop around freddy’s bc thats what he does as a conspriacy theorist

-he gets there just in time to save mike but mike’s like,, OUT so he takes him back to his apartment to fix him up

-while mike takes a while to wake up ness begins cleaning his wounds and stitching him up and there’s a brief moment when mike is nearly all cleaned up that he looks kinda peaceful(?) lying on ness’s couch and ness is like “huh” but he doesn’t quite get why his heart speeds up a bit

-as ness finishes cleaning him up he starts humming and singing gently and it kinda wakes mike up but he’s still a little out of it and can’t quite open his eyes fully so he’s just like “are you an angel?” bc he fully thought he died back there lmao

-and ness just laughs and goes “i’m fully human as far as i know. the name’s ness and i found you at freddy’s which is lucky for you bc it looked like you were in a bit of trouble there” bc he’s cheeky like that

-and mikes still a little dazed and confused from the blood loss but still he’s like “wait a minute… narrows eyes why were You at freddy’s”

-ness is just like “well you see it’s a long story” and mike just looks down at this injuries with a look that says well i’m clearly not going anywhere soon so i’ve got time

-ness starts explaining the fnaf lore while bandaging up mike and mike is trying to pay attnetion bc this is kinda imp but he can’t help but get distracted with how gentle ness is handling his arm and maybe he’s still a bit dazed but he swears this guy’s voice is a bit melodic and oh. oh.

-mike hasn’t really been in the dating scene much bc of abby so when he realizes that he might be developing a crush on this guy he’s known for a grand total of 30 minutes (and he was only awake for 10 of those) he begins to panic a bit

-uhhhh yeah. they go back to freddys and vanessa’s there and they save abby and it’s pretty much the last bit of the movie but w ness there now! (i couldn’t figure out how to end this im so sorry)

prompts, hcs, whatever random thoughts you guys have on these silly little fellas pls be sure to send them my way bc im going a Bit insane

#i got a bit sleepy at the end bc its nearing 2pm so i need another coffee #and this has been sitting in my inbox for a couple days bc i initially wanted to write it as a oneshot #but im incapable of writing anything under 1k #slowly turning the first date prompt into a fic #but im also working on the 5+1 #and now this #and other one shots that started bc i thought too much #gosh is this what being a writer is about #why do i have like 5 wips going on #anyways i hope the brainrot is as real for u as it is for me #fnaf #fnaf movie #ness the waiter #kitty.twt #securitywaiter #mike schmidt #mike x ness #fnaf ness #abby schmidt #vanessa afton #vanessa shelly

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs- Dribbles & Drabbles: 1K Words Or Less For those of you with a short attention span, short on time or perhaps new to the fandom and just want to get a little taste... Here's a handful of fics with less than 1,000 words. Happy reading!

Be sure to show the authors some love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

✨ Likes are lovely, but please reblog to share this wonderful content with your mutuals! 😁

*If you have a tumblr (or other socials) you'd like linked, let me know and I'll add it. Also, if anyone doesn't want their socials linked here, please let me know and I'll gladly remove it.

🥛 Six-word stories from every decade by @carnivalrow // nightfall_in_winter [NR, 12] A heart for sale. Used once...* Hawk Part 1- stories from the 60s. Part 2 -stories from the 70s.

🥛 you know, you’ve been rather sweet lately by tangerineflamingo* [NR, 255] They stay like this, wrapped in each other’s embrace, their bodies entwined in the warm glow of sunlight. Part 1 of fellow travelers drabbles 🥛there is no sin in what you & I just did by @beyondxmeasure // Cyantific [M, 250] The burden of guilt weighs heavily on Tim for what he's about to do, but for now, he sets aside any conflicting feelings where God and Hawkins Fuller are concerned, along with the cross around his neck.

🥛 Blessed by @lookturtles // look_turtles [G, 300] Tim is sick and Hawk takes care of him.

🥛 Golden Fire by @itslexduh // ItsLexDuh [T, 478] A little drabble about Tim seeing Hawk with his wedding ring for the first time in 1957.

🥛 so you'll remember me by voidedcat* [G, 548] Hawk finds the cufflinks Tim'd kept after all these years. But now it's too damn late.

🥛 Yours Truly by Cozy_coffee* [G, 630] Love is…the three times Hawk said “I love you” to Tim.

🥛 if i have to switch the lights off, i wanna switch them off with you by @startagainbuttercup // startagainbuttercup [T, 661] "I don't remember our last kiss," Hawk blurted.

Tim's face instantly changed as he parted his lips in surprise.

"The whole time you were there, with the doctors, I thought you were dying, and I couldn't remember when was the last time we kissed." Hawk's voice trembled a little. He looked at his lap. "There were so many, but I just couldn't remember the last one."

Or, a little scene after, "Did you forget that I'm a convicted felon?"

Part 3 of Fellow Travelers 1x06 extra scenes

🥛 You didn't have to love me like you did, but you did, and I thank you. by @in-our-special-place // Cupping_Cakes [M, 708] “He wasn't my friend. He was the man I loved.”

🥛 Cherry blossom by @carnivalrow // nightfall_in_winter [M, 740] There is a moment when they both travel west and Tim falls asleep in the car. An excerpt is provided. This fic examines Hawk's thoughts in that precise moment.

🥛 Liability by @solitudinariann // Dysterscribbles [T, 804] Angstier version of the scene where Hawk asks Tim to write a letter for Mary and calls his friends a 'liability' which makes Tim think Hawk must think of him as a liability too. Angst and something more ensues.

🥛 The Twelth of Never by ghostandwitness* [M, 973 WIP] What if Hawk didn’t prevent Tim from passing the security clearance? A retelling of Hawk and Tim’s story where their affair is continued through Tim’s employment at State, for those of us who want a different ending (but of course, not without a hard time getting there-After all it's Hawk and Tim).

#ftficrecs #fellow travelers fic recs #fellow travelers fics #dribbles and drabbles #under 1k #ficlets #ftfics collections #short fics #ftfics jan24

[chanbig]

A cat appears in the Theerapanyakul compound. No one knows how it got there, or why it wants to follow (a highly-allergic) Kinn around. Chan is called in to help. OR Big gets turned into a cat, and Chan takes care of him.

#chanbig #bigchan #kinnporsche the series #kpts #kpts fic #userdarcey #what was i thinking when i wrote this? well. lets just say. i dont know. i was having fun #i literally thought i could do it under 1k but it ended up 3.5k against my will RIP #it is crack but crack taken seriously #benoit blanc voice: it makes no damn sense! compels me though. #WHY IS THE SUGGESTED KPTS TAG MISSPELLED?? kinnporche. who is she

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

How about Peter feeling touch-starved and asks Tony for a hug?

These mini fics often turn out super self-indulgently soft. Haha. But hey! We love it, right?? We're here for the fanon?? I know I am! I hope Anon is too because this one is hurt/comfort with a heavy emphasis on the comfort. Peter desperately needs a hug and doesn't know it. Good thing Tony does. :) Super sweet. Very fluff.

Peter Parker Needs a Hug 967 Words

At sixteen-years-old, Peter was eminently capable of spending a week alone in the apartment. May had been begged to take some shifts at a short-staffed hospital a few hours away. She’d tried to decline. She’d told them she had a nephew at home and couldn't uproot him in the middle of the school year.

Peter had argued the compensation was too good to give up. He’d assured her he would be fine. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home anyway. He’d attend school, patrol, complete his homework and sleep. If he needed anything, he would have the Leeds’, MJ and Mr. Stark.

Reluctantly she had accepted the offer. She’d packed a few bags, hugged him tightly and driven off.

As it were, Peter flourished in the independence. He woke up early to make himself breakfast, watched whatever he wanted on the television and made sure to get to bed at a reasonable hour. It was great. And when the first week went well, May apprehensively agreed to one more.

While Peter missed his aunt, he wasn’t terribly upset that she had decided to stay longer. It was only seven more days and they talked on the phone all the time. However, the intrigue and sense of accomplishment that came with being trusted to care for himself came to a screeching halt in the middle of his eleventh night of solitude.

For no discernible reason, Peter woke up too early in the morning feeling uneasy. He didn’t think he’d had a nightmare. If he had, he certainly didn’t remember it. Sighing, he went to get a glass of milk from the kitchen; something he often did when he simply couldn’t sleep. But as he walked down the hall, he realized something was different. What he ordinarily thought of as a peaceful silence in the apartment, had been replaced with an eerie feeling of emptiness. He rolled his eyes at his own dramatics and flipped the light on.

The rest of his day didn’t go any better. He got to school and went through the usual paces. Really, it would have been a completely ordinary day had it not been for the lingering discontent in the back of his head. It made him irritable and anxious, and he had no idea how to combat.

When lunch came around, Ned put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was okay. He shook his head, his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he fought back the overwhelming desire to pull his friend into a bone crushing hug. Being that they were in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, he fought the urge and wrapped his own arms around himself instead. He mumbled he was just in a bad mood, apologized and tried to go back to his suddenly tasteless sandwich.

Patrol was a no-go. He wanted to go out and help, but lacked the motivation. It was odd. He couldn’t think of a time he’d ever not wanted to patrol. He brushed it off as another symptom of a bad day and went straight home. He’d only been there about ten minutes before Mr. Stark texted him.

‘You’re not patrolling today?’

‘Taking a break,’ he replied, not wanting to give too much away.

‘Want to take that break at the tower? the next message read. Followed by, ‘I could use your help.’

Peter read the message over a few times, surprised that going to the tower actually sounded really nice. Hurriedly, he changed into this suit and headed in that direction.

“Hey, Kiddo!” Mr. Stark cheerfully greeted. “How goes your lack of parental supervision? I haven’t gotten any emergency calls, so I assume it’s gone well.”

Dubiously, Peter narrowed his eyes. “May asked you to check on me, didn’t she.”

Mr. Stark smiled sheepishly, his hand moving to the back of his neck. “She did. Said you sounded a little down this morning.”

Peter’s eyes tried to well up again. It was super aggravating. Especially in front of Mr. Stark.“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he growled. “I’m antsy and annoyed for no good reason.”

Mr. Stark’s head tilted to the side. “How long has May been gone?”

Peter scrubbed at his face and did a mental tally. “Almost twelve days.”

There were a few beats of silence. Then Mr. Stark beckoned him closer. “Come here, Buddy.”

“Why?” Peter asked, feeling more defensive than he should have.

“Just come here. Trust me.”

Peter did as asked. He closed the distance between them and was met with a tight embrace. He stiffened for a split second before melting into the pressure. He couldn’t restrain the fresh round of tears that sprung to his eyes. Mr. Stark tightened his grasp, swaying gently as he ran a hand up and down his back. He didn’t stop until Peter gathered a breath and pulled back on his own.

“Better?” Mr. Stark asked, one hand still squeezing Peter's bicep.

“Yeah,” he replied, his cheeks pink with mild embarrassment. “Yeah, that’s better.”

“I know you’ve been doing fine on your own, but you know you’re welcome to stay here tonight,” Tony offered. “Pizza and movies. I’ll get you to school in the morning.”

Relief Peter didn’t even know he needed, washed over him. “That actually sounds really awesome,” he sighed, leaning in for another brief hug. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. You always seem to know what I need.”

“That’s my job,” Mr. Stark said softly. “But next time you need a hug, all you have to do is ask, okay, Pete?”

“Okay,” Peter echoed. He bit back a smile and looked up through his lashes. “Can I have a hug?”

Tony barked a pleasant laugh. “Of course, Kiddo! Any time,” he said, arms outstretched for Peter to fall into. “Absolutely anytime.”

#happyaspie mini fic #<- check out that tag #mini fic prompts are open #send an ask! #mini fic #fic under 1k #tumblr mini fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #marvel #spider-man #iron man #mcu #irondad #touch starved #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug

[chaoscradle]

Winter Is Not Eternal

(um. this is really short, and i wrote this in one night at like 11pm so if it makes no sense/is too fast paced/ooc etc please excuse that i am very sleep deprived + i never write this kind of stuff so out of my element)

---

It’s snowing hard.

That’s not going to be stopping Mike from seeing Will.

It’s been too long, in Mike’s opinion – two months since they’ve been able to see each other on their own and talk without someone else with an open ear around.

Two months since the Mindflayer was sealed in the Upside Down.

Things have been a little hectic since then. Erratic and overprotective siblings and adults, paranoid friends, everyone still trying to come to terms with everything that’s happened.

It’s not that Mike isn’t upset – he really is, like really really is – but seeing Will has always just made everything so much calmer. Made his mind less clouded, more discernible and manageable. Nancy’s been following him around since the incident though, and that doesn’t exactly make his quest of spending time alone with Will any easier.

“I know what you’re going through, Mike, I’m trying to help! Why don’t you understand that?!”

She was the one who didn’t understand. Nobody does, nobody except Will. Even El doesn’t understand, she hadn’t been there – she hadn’t seen Will in the hospital, screaming and crying and struggling. She hadn’t seen Will in the shed, tear tracks staining his cheeks as he desperately tried to fight against the Mindflayer’s control. She hadn’t watched Will slowly forget who he was, and who he loved, and be completely helpless to stop it. None of them got it. Even Joyce, who had been there for every single one of those moments, didn’t get it.

But Will understands everything. He understands him on a level nobody else ever has and nobody else ever will. It’s scary sometimes, but at times like now, it’s everything he needs.

And if it takes Mike having to sneak out into the cold night snow to be able to see him without his sister breathing down his neck, so be it.

There’s more snow coming down than Mike had originally thought, and he’s come close to losing control of his bike and crashing several times as the patches of ice become less and less visible under the fresh snow.

He pedals faster.

His mind is going at a manic speed, his thoughts indiscernible besides the clear sound of all too familiar guttural screaming and the ever-present and increasingly panicked mantra of Will, Will, Will, Will playing on loop.

He’s almost there. Almost to Will.

It doesn’t take too long for him to finally reach his destination, dropping his bike under a tree by the side of the road, hidden enough for it to be left alone by any drunk teens. Taking a deep breath, he makes his way across the snow, trekking his way down a path that had unfortunately made itself all too familiar in the past few months. A path he had walked down time and time again with Lucas and Dustin, Joyce and Jonathan, sometimes Nancy – but never once he had walked down alone.

Every headstone in the cemetery has a fresh snow covering their tops, making them indistinguishable to an outsider, but not so much to Mike. He’s always been able to find Will, no matter where he is. It’s no different now, even if the circumstances aren’t the same.

He brushes the snow from the top of Will’s headstone, more for the sake of doing it than actually getting the snow off.

“Hey, Will,” Mike says, his voice breaking mid-sentence, “I… keep seeing you in everything. It’s like you’re still here, sometimes. We promised to go crazy together, but… you’re not here anymore.”

Time still passes. The world still spins. People still live their lives.

None of them care for the death of Will Byers.

But the night sky weeps alongside Mike. Its tears fall in soft, white specks, flooding the world with its sorrow for what could have been.

It snows, and it snows, and it snows, and Mike cries, and cries, and cries.

And when Mike finally heaves himself up, forcing himself back onto his bike to return home, the snow stops.

It will snow many more times – it’s only December – but for now it’s calmed down, and eventually, snow will not fall as often. 

Winter is not eternal.

Neither is spring or summer, for that matter. Eventually it becomes winter again, but after that, spring follows once more.

It will take time, but eventually, Mike will learn the same thing.

#byler fic #byler #byler tumblr #my writing #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #<- aha. #i probably wont post this on ao3 since it's under 1k but idk we'll see ig

[panic-flavored]

Follow up to the nightmare question- for mermaid stobotinik.

What if Stone stuck his hand towards Ivo’s head to fast and it made Ivo flinch away?

What if that when he assures Stone he wasn’t flinching because he’s a monster but because at the orphanage he got hit a lot.

Or worse. What if he doesn’t just flinch but goes into a full on panic flashback- where Stone has to calm him down from.

Altogether, it had been a successful day. 

Stone found plenty of interesting specimens for Robotnik, the badniks documented an unusually timed migration of Atlantic sturgeon, and he’d gotten to have a long, luxurious swim in the ocean. It’s always nice to stretch his fins and swim as fast as he possibly can through the turbulent undercurrent, but as strange as it is, he’s grown to love his tank in Robotnik’s lab just as much. Whenever Stone hears Robotnik’s voice through one of the aqua-badniks reminding him to return to the surface, Stone’s heart soars, and any feelings of nostalgia he has remaining for his birthplace fade almost instantly. 

Today, Robotnik’s voice sounds oddly tame. “Wrap it up, Stone,” Robotnik snaps, his voice hard to make out through the badnik’s speakers. They must be deeper underwater than Stone realized.

Stone pulls off his backpack and places the last specimen inside - a perfect junonia snail shell - and then slips it back on, signaling to the badniks to follow him back to the surface. 

He feels his bones readjust to the new gravity as he breaches the surface of the water. Per the usual protocol, the badniks switch to flight mode and raise up out of the water to scan the surrounding area, ensuring that there are no unwelcome visitors within range. When Stone receives the all-clear, he swims to shore, eyes scanning for Robotnik. 

He can feel him nearby. Usually, Robotnik is tucked away in the mobile lab while Stone is out on a survey mission, but for some reason today feels different. He’s not in the lab, Stone is sure of it - there’s a powerful pull in Stone’s gut guiding him, instead, to the cliffs.

Stone motions to the badniks to locate Robotnik, and immediately the drones fly off toward a rockier stretch of beach not too far away from the mobile lab. Stone follows them, finally spotting Robotnik sitting on a small outcropping overlooking the ocean. A flutter of concern courses through Stone at the sight of him sitting there; Robotnik is never stationary, he’s never this quiet and contemplative. Stone pulls himself onto the shore, shouldering off his bag and handing it off to a badnik to take into the lab. He then makes his way to where Robotnik sits, his tail leaving a deep, curved groove in the sand as he goes. 

Robotnik finally notices him when he’s practically beside him, tossing him a brief look of acknowledgment over his shoulder. “Took you long enough,” he grunts. 

Stone sits on the rocks next to Robotnik, letting his tail hang over the cliff. With one arm supporting himself, he signs one-handed:

Is everything okay?

Robotnik snorts. “Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be? Am I not allowed to look at a sunset every now and again?”

Stone looks out at the horizon, noticing the deep purple sky settling over the ocean. There’s a warm layer of red-orange breaking through the purple, the very last sliver of sunlight dipping below the horizon. It looks like my tail. “I hadn’t noticed.” Robotnik grates out.

Stone watches Robotnik curiously. There’s something wrong, he can practically feel Robotnik’s tumultuous emotions as if they were his own, crashing over him like a wave and churning up his stomach with anxiety. 

Some strands of hair have fallen over Robotnik’s forehead - the humidity’s fault, probably. Stone absently reaches a hand up to gently brush the hair aside, but before he can make contact, Robotnik flinches away from his hand and grabs Stone’s wrist tightly in his hand. 

Stone freezes. Robotnik turns to look at him, and for a moment, neither of them moves or says a word. Robotnik’s eyes are wide, his face pink in embarrassment, almost like he’s surprised at his own reaction. He comes back to himself quickly and releases Stone’s wrist, turning away to look back out at the ocean. 

“Time to get moving,” Robotnik says stiffly, pressing a few buttons on his control gloves to get the mobile lab ready for departure. “I hope you got me some good stuff, Stone. You were down there long enough, you’d better have something to show for it.”

Wait, Stone moves so that Robotnik has no choice but to look at him. Something is wrong. Tell me what it is.

“Nothing’s wrong!” Robotnik growls. “Why are you so insistent that there’s something wrong with me? I’m feeling better than ever.”

You can’t lie to me! Stone signs. He makes a circular motion over his own neck and collarbone, mirroring where his marks are patterned over Robotnik’s skin, hidden under his shirt and jacket. We’re connected.

Robotnik scoffs. “Ridiculous. The ‘mating bond’, is it?” He outlines the words in sarcastic air quotes. “You’ve explained it before. It’s pseudoscience, Stone. No such phenomena exists.” 

Stone would be hurt by those words if he truly thought Robotnik believed that, but he doesn’t. Robotnik has a habit of closing himself off, putting up walls between them when things become too intimate. He knows Robotnik feels the bond too, though he has yet to outright admit it.

Whether or not you accept it, I can feel that something is wrong, Stone says. When you stopped me just now, I felt fear in you. If I’ve done anything to make you afraid of me–

“No, that’s… No.” Robotnik sighs, swatting Stone’s hand down to shut him up. “I’m not afraid of you, moron. Why would I be? I’m not afraid of anything. Not anymore. Though… I suppose sometimes certain memories dredge themselves up from the depths of my mind when things get a little too quiet. That’s all this was, alright? Just old, superfluous memories that are best left forgotten. Meaningless drivel.”

Stone frowns. Not to me.

Robotnik’s expression softens. “This might come as a shock to you, but I’m not exactly well-versed in the language of physical intimacy,” he mutters. “Or… physical anything, really. A fact I’m not particularly upset about, you understand, I’m only trying to illustrate that– well, that this is all new territory for me. And I’m not always prepared for-- well, for… UGH!” he cuts off his own ramblings with a frustrated groan. “This is so ridiculous.”

Stone shuffles a little closer to his mate. Moving more slowly and carefully this time, he sets his hand on Robotnik’s knee. It’s not. Please, keep going?

Robotnik doesn’t flinch away this time, to Stone’s relief. He squeezes the bridge of his nose irritably. “Rewiring my brain takes time, alright? For most of my life, physical contact was not something I relished. Orphanages in the 60s weren’t exactly loving, nurturing environments for children - not that I needed any of that nonsense.”

Stone frowns. What does that word mean? “An orphanage is a place where human children go to live if they don’t have parents to take care of them. Though, that’s a bit of an antiquated term nowadays - I suppose it would be called a group home, now.” Robotnik explains. 

Stone’s mind spins. He had no idea such places existed, and now that he knows, he can’t fathom why any child would be mistreated in such a place. Robotnik catches Stone’s confused expression and grins wryly. “Let me guess - your species takes exceptional care of their young, hm? No deep sea orphanages to be found?”

Stone shakes his head. All the calves born in the pod are raised by everyone in the group. 

Robotnik hums. “‘It takes a village’...” he muses softly. “You may have no frame of reference for this, then. Humans are notoriously selfish creatures who often discard or mistreat their young at the drop of a hat. That’s all you need to know.”

Stone squeezes Robotnik’s knee. Other humans hurt you? Robotnik chuckles darkly. “Only until I was old enough to hurt them back. Then they all kept a wide berth.” 

Stone’s fins frill dangerously. I’ll kill them.

Robotnik slides his hand over Stone’s. “I appreciate the sentiment, Stone, but I doubt I can track down all of the teachers, caregivers, foster parents and schoolyard bullies who have ever hassled me. None of them are worth the trouble.” He glances at Stone’s tail. “We should get back to the lab, you’re starting to dry out.”

Wait, Stone signs. He shifts his weight to move closer to Robotnik, pushing between his knees. Robotnik allows it, watching him approach with calm curiosity. Stone taps a finger against his own mouth questioningly - not a proper sign, he knows, but Robotnik understands regardless.  “Yes,” Robotnik says softly. “You may.”

Stone wraps his arms around Robotnik’s neck and gently presses their mouths together, unable to prevent a musical sound from vibrating in his throat when Robotnik leans into him, kissing him back earnestly. Stone is still new at kissing - well, Robotnik is too, actually - but he makes sure to keep his teeth away from Robotnik’s delicate lips, and suppresses his second jaw from extending although it's difficult to do so when he's excited. And it is always exciting to touch Robotnik - all the more reason to make sure Robotnik always enjoys being touched by him. If Robotnik has never known loving physical contact, Stone will make sure that’s all he receives going forward. His mate deserves to feel safe and loved. 

When they break apart, Stone rests their foreheads together. Robotnik sighs gently against Stone’s lips. 

“The sunset. It did look like your tail,” he mutters grudgingly. “A little.”

Stone smiles. He can feel his fins glowing with their gold spots, the spots only for Robotnik. I promise I will never hurt you, he signs, and he knows Robotnik can feel the intention slipping through their bond from the way his breath suddenly hitches. Robotnik laughs through his nose, letting his eyes fall closed. The salty sea air blows gently over them as waves slosh melodically against the cliff, the sun finally dipping below the horizon to cast the beach in soft hues of red and violet. 

“I know,” Robotnik says, with absolute certainty. “I know you wouldn’t.”

#stobotnik merman au #stobotnik #fic #sonic movie #agent stone #doctor robotnik #mating bond #i literally can't keep these drabbles under 1k words to save my life #gonna make an A03 doc soon to put all the art and drabbles together

[0and0its0doctor0]

Date Night

David Rossi x OFC Slightly NC-17 Warnings: Heavy kissing, light touching, no actual smut Summary: Bella is new to the FBI and literally runs into David Rossi who she happens to have a massive crush on. He takes her out to dinner and they wind up on his couch.

Word Count: 946

“I mean who would ever want to be with me? Especially someone like David Rossi? I doubt he even knows I exist.” Bella tried explaining to Penelope. She was fresh out of the academy chasing her fathers coattails while trying to pave her own way and David Rossi was well…David Rossi. Bella was just a paper pusher with hopes and dreams of joining the BAU. Thankfully she was weird like Penelope so she quickly became her new best friend. Bella sighed deeply and left her office to get back to work. When she got back to her desk she groaned. Her paperwork pile had doubled during her lunch break. She quickly shuffled through them and knew she needed to make photocopies. Gathering them up she made her way to the file room only to find the copier broken. ‘Use BAU copier.’ The sign said. She frowned but made her way to the next floor up. 

Bella had her hands full and turned a corner cursing as she collided with someone. Paperwork scattered across the floor and she landed on her ass. “You okay kitten?” Oh shit. She knew that voice. She looked up to see David Rossi looking down at her. “I’m so sorry Mr. Rossi. I wasn’t paying attention and I just am not as graceful as I used to be.” She was rambling as she got on her hands and knees to pick up the scattered papers. “No it’s okay it was entirely my fault.” David said, helping her pick up papers. Once she was done she looked up at him while still on her knees, batting her eyelashes. He bit his lip and cleared his throat causing her to blush. “Need a hand kitten?” He asked, holding out a hand helping her up. “It’s Bella. I mean I don’t mind if you call me kitten. But my name is Bella.” She said tucking back a red curl. “I know who you are. Arabella Montgomery. Fresh out of the academy. You help put together our finished files after cases.” He said, causing her to blush. David Rossi actually knew who she was. “I worked with your dad a few times. I was sorry to hear about his accident.” He said, still holding her hand after helping her up. She deflated a little when he brought up her dad. “Would you like to join me for dinner tonight? Fizolies. 8pm.” He asked and she nodded. “See you later kitten.” He said with a smirk and a wink and she quickly ran to tell Penelope what happened.

Bella sighed as she picked at her little black dress and nervously looked at her phone. 825. She frowned and sipped at her wine. She would give it a couple more minutes before accepting the fact she got stood up. Who was she kidding? No one liked her. Especially someone as special as David Rossi. She was about to get the check when the chair across from her pulled out and a handsome man in a suit sat down. “Sorry kitten. Got a case file dropped off right as I was leaving and had to get the team. Looks like we are going to New York tomorrow.” He said ordering himself some wine. “Oh. I’m originally from New York.” She said, sipping at her glass. “What brought you out here?” He asked, sitting back. “Well I had been a ballerina since I took my first steps. I was a ballerina with the American Ballet Company then one performance of Romeo and Juliet…I was Juliet…I blew out my knee. I can no longer dance so I decided to take after my dad.” She explained with a bit of a frown. “Your dad would be proud of the Agent you are becoming.” David said with a reassuring smile. “Just wish he would have lived long enough to see me graduate. Now I’m just a paper pusher.” She said with a bit of a frown as she shrugged her shoulders. 

Bella and David both drank a substantial amount of wine. “I’m only 5 minutes away from here.” He had his hands wrapped around her waist and was brushing his lips against the curve of her neck. “Wanna come over?” He asked and she quickly nodded. David flagged down a taxi and once inside his hands were all over her. But she definitely didn’t mind. Once they arrived at his house she giggled as his beard kept tickling the sensitive skin of her neck. He paused from kissing her just long enough to unlock the door and push her inside. Once inside he quickly shed his jacket and pushed her onto the couch. He pulled off his tie and climbed on top of her biting and kissing along her neck and collar bone. She moaned, tilting her head back to give him more access to her pale skin. He left lots of marks she was going to have to explain the following day but she didn't care. She pushed her hips up against his moaning as she felt the bulge in his slacks. “Tell me how far you wanna go.” He whispered breathlessly into her ear. “All the way.” She moaned back as they both quickly started to undress each other.  His hands dipped down and lightly started to trace up her thigh and he swallowed the sounds she was making. "Easy kitten." He said with a grin before dipping down to place kisses between her cleavage. He was devouring the little sounds that she was making as his fingers pushed the fabric of her dress up her legs till it bunched up around her waist. He couldn’t ask for a better night.

#david rossi #david rossi x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds gen fic #criminal minds fluff #light smut #criminal minds smut #nc 17 #original female character #david rossi x OFC #should i continue? #under 1k #criminal minds oc #criminal minds oneshot #Rossi

[snarkythewoecrow]

we're pretending it's still wip wednesday

@kingofdarkness00 is always lovely and tagging me, so here is me aiming to actually do one close to the right day

okay, another random snippet from the dream/hob angst fest with all the tropes, yes, believe it or not, this snippet is actually from the same fic... what can I say? lack of inspiration and random ideas never seems to be a problem, but um, not sure how to set this up, except, think post all the trauma i put hob through, hob going through a rough recovery, and dream sorta struggling a bit, being a bit frustrated, emotions are hard and shit, so basically, this snippet is a bit of the scene where dream retreats to seek council of the one person who he trusts to truly understand him and what hob is going through, even if he feels a bit selfish for doing it... enter calliope stage right please....

Calliope ducked her head. “I would be remiss if I were to say you appeared well—as for a god of sleep and dreams, you look awfully tired, Oneiros.” A painful smile. “Perhaps it’s the weariness at being unable to change the past that is catching up to me.”  “So, does this mean you are ready to speak of Orpheus—of what happened to our son?” Guilt seized his throat and squeezed—because what did it make him—how self-serving—that he hadn’t invited her to reflect on the memories of their child, to offer the support that he’d neglected to give so long ago? His lips parted, words hanging from his tongue before remembering why he’d summoned her—selfish or not. “No, though speaking about our son is something I’d like to do—soon—if you were amenable to visiting again—that is to say, if you don’t find my company as intolerable as you once did.” Her breathy laugh and eye roll proved her still better than him. “Just as you’d answer my call—I shall always attend to yours. So, if we’re not here to discuss our history, then what is it that has affected you enough to summon me?” She raised her brows, head tilting. “Because that is a look I haven’t seen in so very long—not since we met our end.” He clenched his jaw—defensive for no reason other than pride or perhaps fear of being perceived. “I—“ he began, then stopped, sharp edges softening at her radiance, warmth. At her forgiveness. Her and Hob were more alike than he’d realized. What did humans say about a type? Shaking the thoughts aside, he pressed forward despite the itch in his throat. “I’ve come to ask for advice, as I’ve—I’ve found myself not knowing what to do—and—and I suppose you were right. I've changed--changed in ways that have left me... questioning--lost. Perhaps even fearful of making the same mistakes I once made with you." Something seemed to have become clear to her, as a quiet "Oh," escaped her lips. "Oh, Oneiros, you continue to surprise me still." He huffed. “That’s all you have to offer?” She rolled her eyes. “Scowling like a wet cat will not earn any favors. Can't a woman remark on the things she sees?" “I don't recall you stating more than your astonishment." "I suppose--though I speculate it to be true." His brows lifted, otherwise his expression blank. "And do I want to know what you suspect of me?" "That you're in love—that you've opened your heart in a way you'd never quite been able to do with me." The guilt burned his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t—“ But he didn’t get to finish as two fingers pressed to his lips. “No, do not apologize for love, Onieros—you hold no more sway over the decisions of your heart than you do the choice of the stars to shine in your eyes.” He stayed silent, knowing better than to challenge a Muse on such a topic. Then, the fingers moved from his lips, her palm sliding to cup his cheek. “Now, come, take my hand and sit beneath the cypress,” she said, threading together their fingers. “I fancy to hear the tale of the one who claimed your heart—who has you seeking my council in such a state.”

@buckybeardreams @thefangirloutof-time @kydrogendragon

#dreamling #the sandman #calliope sandman #snippets #my wips #snark writes #it's the fic that never ends #it just getting going until my tears short out the keyboard #this was meant to be under 1k #my muse is a sadistic femme dom into seeing me cry #no other explanation as to why the word count and ideas for scenes continue to pile up #its 3am #idk why that seems important rn but it does #🐦‍⬛

[ryukatters]

as someone notorious for writing short drabbles...girl why tf is gojos bday fic about to reach 5k

#im a 1k and under girly #but to be fair ig the fic is more like 5 1k scenarios so iggggg #kat's thoughts