#ficlet

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knew something was wrong from Lena’s heartbeat. That alone, the barely detectable change in rhythm and tempo, was enough, but her breathing was erratic and as Kara drew nearer, drifting through the afternoon air, she could hear the soft sobs.

A bad feeling had come over Kara. Things had been quiet between the two of them ever since the wedding; there had been a strange tension between them on that happy day and Kara couldn’t say why

(she knew what she wanted it to be but didn’t dare hope)

and with Alex and Kelly away on their honeymoon, Kara had mostly been on her own. Nia was spending most of her free time with Brainy and Kara sensed a proposal coming, and she was busy preparing for her public interview with Cat Grant. She was going to rip the bandages off and reveal her identity. There was a great deal of work involved, and Kara had spent a lot of time fretting over the details, and in the back of her head she was worried about the ramifications of years spent reporting on Supergirl and using “her” as a source. It was a massive ethical dilemma, and thought it always made sense at the time…

Right now all that mattered was the heartbeat. Kara had been giving Lena the space she sensed she needed, but Jess had called Kara from the Foundation and told her that Lena hadn’t come to work in three days, and no one had heard from her. It was uncharacteristic of someone who ran her life with almost military precision. Kara had even asked Alex to text Lena, but they’d gotten the same single word replies.

Kara pulled in a big breath, feeling her stomach churn as she lighted on the balcony and slid open the door, knowing it would be unlocked. She wished Lena would stop doing that, but also felt a little tilt in her chest from knowing Lena hadn’t locked her out.

She was on the sofa, curled up on her side and asleep. She’d probably had the same pajamas on for two days and there were empty bottles of wine in a neat row on the table in front of her. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her cheeks a little raw. Kara felt an instant pang and reached for her, before stopping to deactivate her suit.

Kneeling next to the sofa, Kara touched her fingers to Lena’s shoulders. Lena woke instantly with a start, head jolting up as she sucked in a reedy breath and her heart raced explosively, sending a shock of terror up Kara’s spine.

“Oh fuck,” Lena blurted, kicking out her legs as she bolted upright. “Oh God, Kara what…”

“Hey,” Kara said softly. “I was… I’m sorry. Are you okay? I came in through the balcony. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lena’s chest heaved as she gasped for breath, staring at Kara with watery eyes. “Are you real?”

“What? Yes, of course I’m real.”

“I must have been dreaming. It was a dream. Just a dream. I was dreaming,” Lena muttered.

Kara rose from her knees and sat down on the couch.

“Come here.”

Lena almost crashed into her, wrapping her arms tightly around Kara and squeezing hard. She smoothed her fingers over the soft dark waves of Lena’s hair and pulled her in as she began to sob into Kara’s shoulder.

“I dreamed he killed you,” Lena choked out. “He came back again and he killed you and I couldn’t stop it. It felt so real.”

“I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Lena continued to sob, her entire body shaking with the force of it. Kara wrapped her in a fierce hug, trembling as she did.

“Every time I close my eyes he’s there, and when I’m awake all I can think about is that I killed my brother.”

“That didn’t happen in this timeline.”

Lena choked out an angry, frustrated sob. “It happened for me. I aimed a gun at my own brother’s chest and I pulled the trigger. And he came back! He came back and he almost killed you two or three fucking times, I can’t count.”

“He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“You can’t just say that!” Lena screamed into Kara’s throat.

Stunned, Kara softened her grip on Lena, only for Lena to pull her in harder, like she was trying to climb inside her.

“Why can’t I stop mourning him? He ruined my life. He was the person I trusted most and he turned out to be a monster. He used me my whole life and my emotions were just a game to him. He tried to to kill the woman I… tortured you, took you away for months and I thought I’d never see you again. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was and how much…”

Lena cut herself off with a sob.

“I know it’s not the same,” Kara murmured, “but when I was a little girl I worshipped my father. I wanted to grow up like him and do what he did. I was going to be a scientist too.”

“You’d have been a good one.”

Kara shook her head. “My father was responsible for the Medusa virus. A bioweapon designed to eradicate non-Kryptonian life. A weapon of genocide.”

Lena shuddered.

Kara swallowed, hard.

“My world wasn’t a paradise. It felt that way because it was simple for me. There wasn’t all the pain of learning alien ways and an alien language and controlling superpowers and everything else. My father taught and protected me and my mom maintained order. But it was wasn’t a paradise. My people were… Krypton was… I think in a lot of worlds out there, we were the bad guys. Okay, the Daxamites were slavers, but on Krypton people were born into the labor guild and did menial jobs their whole lives, while people like me were born into privilege. Is that much better?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t judge you for mourning Lex, Lena. He was your protector and your friend, and it was real to you. If there’s anything I hate him for, it’s hurting you.” Kara swallowed. “The one thing I can’t abide is anyone hurting you. I’ll break all my rules to keep you safe.”

Lena’s breathing eased and Kara could feel her relax.

“I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I figured you needed space. I wasn’t sure why but I trusted you to tell me if you need to.”

There was a long, heavy pause, and then Lena said.

“Kara, I can’t do this. I can’t share you.”

“Share me?”

“When you reveal your identity,” Lena pulled back, “you’re going to be the most famous person in the word. Everyone is going to be all over you. The press, politicians, everybody, and everyone who has a grudge against you or your cousin is going to know exactly where to find you, all the time.”

“I’ll keep you safe, no one will…”

“I didn’t say anything about me. You, Kara. What about you?”

“I’m Supergirl. I’ll be fine.”

“And what about me?” said Lena.

“I told you…”

“No. What about me when I have to watch you getting beaten to a pulp by another alien? What about me when you’re in a coma on the sun bed? What about me when I see on the news that a bomb went off in your apartment and I have to wonder if it was laced with Kryptonite shrapnel? I’m not worried about people coming after me. I’m a billionaire with magic powers. I could put on a goofy costume and join the club if I wanted. I’ve already lost you so many times and I can’t do it again.”

Stunned, Kara sat with her eyes wide, not sure when exactly she’d lifted Lena into her lap.

“It’s so selfish of me,” Lena went on. “You don’t belong to me. I don’t get to make demands of you. But don’t want you to out yourself. I don’t want to lose you again. As soon as you do this you’re going to be hounded by the whole world and they’ll claw you away from me again.”

Kara’s own heart raced now, hammering in her chest. Lena sounded so desperate and so sure, clinging to a Kara like she might disappear.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s your choice and I have to respect it. It’s okay,” she was clearly telling herself.

“No,” Kara choked out, “no it’s not. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“No. I have been. I can’t believe I said what I said to you at the wedding, about not being my authentic self. To you, of all people.”

Lena swallowed hard. Kara drew back and looked at her, really looked at her, drinking in the soft beauty of her eyes as she swept back a tear with a brush of her thumb. Lena’s eyes were huge, her lips trembling, and Kara felt an almost painful pang of sorrow and regret and a powerful stirring, long thrust down and buried and now clawing its way forth as Lena stared back, the deep sadness and loss in her own eyes tinged by a hint of forlorn hope.

“I can’t believe that I can see through walls and I’m so blind.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

“I’m calling it off. I’ll keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to do that just to please me.”

“I don’t need them. I need you. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

Lena’s heart raced so fast that Kara briefly thought she might have to fly her to the hospital. Instinctively, she slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and stood, lifting Lena as if she weighed nothing.

Eyes wide, Lena bit her lip.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean when you say you’re mine? I need you to say it, Kara. I was too scared at the wedding. I can’t do this. I need you to.”

Oh.

Kara shifted her Lena’s weight in her arms, bring them closer together. She’d danced this dance before; she thought of the day she came back from the Phantom Zone, when she held Lena in her arms and felt the sun again and she almost did it, she almost just fucking did it…

And she did it.

She kissed Lena, already ready to sputter an apology and find a way out of this, but her words were lost when Lena’s soft lips met hers and Lena was ready to devour her, happily rocketing past chaste first kiss as she grabbed Kara with both hands and pulled her in.

Kara’s stomach flipped. She didn’t know what to do. She’d been kissed, she thought she’d been intimate, but she could see now that those things had been mere stimulation and nothing more. Something soared inside her as she had soared in the sky the very first time she flew. Joy unbridled swelled in her chest and she could feel Lena laughing exultantly into her mouth and even as tears mingled on her cheeks.

She wanted this. She wanted this. It was right here all along.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “I…”

“Should I put you down?”

“On the bed.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #love confession #first kiss #first supercorp kiss #yet another first kiss #I swear to god Kara telling Lena of all people that she can’t fully connect to someone is a slap in the face to both characters #we don’t do canon we do it better #Kara revealing her identity sucks I will die on this hill #sad lena luthor #girl has so much trauma #the sex will help #so much sex #seriously Kara take it easy on her

[sorcererofsolitude]

Wednesday has Enid taste two different jars of honey. Eugene raised the bees in Jar #1 and Wednesday did the same for Jar #2.

Enid, sampling Jar #2: This one definitely has a smokier flavor. It kinda reminds me of a burnt marshmallow, it's really good!

Wednesday, scribbling away on a note pad: So the mood of the bees does affect the flavor! I must write to Uncle Fester at once. He's been looking for a product to sell for his new pyramid scheme.

Enid, looking confused: ...what did you do?

Eugene: She infused the flavor of sadness into the honey by insulting the bees. She told them that there was no such thing as an insect afterlife and their mothers didn't love them.

Enid, tearing up: Oh god... I just ate bee depression! And I said it tasted good! I'm a monster!

Yoko: Hey Enid, ready to go to the movies?

Enid: I can't... I have to go down to the hives and make a lot of apologies.

AO3: SorcererOfSolitude

#netflix wednesday #wednesday #lesbian #lgbtq #wenclair #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #enid x wednesday #jenna ortega #incorrect wednesday quotes #emma myers #yoko wednesday #yoko tanaka #the addams family #incorrect wenclair #incorrect wednesday addams #ficlet #queer

[bhaaldursgays]

It is a busy day as Karlach, not-quite-an-adult and not-quite-a-kid, follows her employer closely through the streets until they arrive at a tavern where Gortash has booked a room. The man stops by the door, turning to her with a stern gaze.

"You are to stand guard while I prepare for the meeting and let my associate in when she arrives. She doesn't like small-talk, so do try not to be as chatty as usual," he instructs, running a hand through his hair. "Do not let anyone disturb us. If any workers offer refreshments, send them away." Karlach catches him looking at the faint reflection of himself in the window on the opposite wall, adjusting his collar just a little.

"Will do, sir!" she smiles, and when he fixes his hair again she can't help but to chuckle. This earns her a look. A raised eyebrow and a challenge in his glare. "Don't worry Mr. G, you look fine!" she says, smiling wider as his eyebrows shoot even higher.

"Excuse me?" he prods, and she knows she's walking a fine line between banter and insubordination. Fortunately, she has worked with him long enough to know the line quite well.

"You're fidgeting. You keep fixing your hair and clothes. You've been doing it since we turned the corner. I'm sure she'll think you look just fine!"

For a moment Gortash just stares at her, then - to her great surprise - he huffs out a laugh and smiles. Real wide too, wider and warmer than she's seen!

"I suppose you are right," he admits. "I could be covered in oil and filth and she wouldn't care, but here I am. Fidgeting, as you put it."

"Don't sweat it, sir! She probably won't mind. And if she does, that hair-ornament you picked up earlier from the jewelers will probably make her forgive you." She dares to give him a little wink, a little tease.

That draws a smirk from him - and a quick pat on his pocket to see that the box is still there. He nods and opens the door.

"Remember; don't let us be disturbed."

"Roger that, sir," she salutes.

It takes a little while before her boss' lady friend arrives. She wears a cloak with a hood that covers her face, but she knows the password Karlach had been given.

After an hour, almost two, the woman leaves. Her hood is down this time, but Karlach doesn't get a good look of her face.

The ornament glints beautifully in her hair, however.

#baldurs gate 3 #durgetash #enver gortash #karlach #karlach cliffgate #ficlet #my writing

[erosmutt]

☆ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇꜱᴛ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ⨾ 𝗛𝗮𝘆𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗻

𖦹 dddne: fauxcest ⋆ dad!hayden x daughter!reader

☆ happy belated Hayden day !

You skip down the stairs happily, backpack over your shoulder as you hurriedly make your way to the front doors. You took the train to school that morning, so you hadn’t seen him all day. Your absolute favorite person - your dad, Hayden. When you pushed the door open, you saw him there, waiting for you, cigarette between his fingers and phone up to his ear as he paced at the car.

With a bright smile, you run to him, catching him by surprise. He must’ve been very into the conversation if he didn’t hear the sound of your Mary Janes against the pavement. He looks down at you and gives a quick smile, then takes a pull from his cig. Is whoever’s on the phone really that important?

“Dad…” You begin, tugging gently on one of the lapels on his coat. He ignores you, making you scrunch your nose in irritation. “Dad,” You tug again, and he gives you a ‘wait a minute’ look. You let out a huff, and begin to pick the little fuzzies off his wool coat.

Once he finally hangs up, he can’t even speak before you’re chewing him out. “I haven’t seen you all day, and you’re ignoring me!” He sighs and gives you a half-smile. “I know, sweets. I was on the phone with your mom.” Oh. That’s why he looked so pissed.

“What did she want?” You ask curiously as Hayden takes your bag, setting it in the back. His cig was long discarded, crushed on the curb. “What does she ever want? She apparently called to wish me a Happy Birthday and we nearly ended up in a yelling match." He opens the passenger door for you, watching as you get in. Once in, he leans over you and puts your seatbelt on for you. You were 18, fully capable of doing it yourself, but he’d always done this since you were small. He’d always given you princess treatment.

You watch as he closes the door and walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side. As soon as he’s in the car, you begin again. “You know what today is, right?” You ask, kicking your feet with the allowed space. He clicks his belt in, and starts the car. “Mm, do I?” He smiles weakly, adjusting himself in his seat. You could tell the conversation he had with your mother - whatever was said in it - really had him discombobulated. He would always give you his full attention. Well, ¾ of it when he was driving.

“Yeah.” Your mood was beginning to dampen. You reach down and pick at a string on your navy blue skirt. “Your birthday.” He nods, giving a soft hum in response as he pulls off. “My birthday.” He sighs and relaxes in his seat, left hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console. “Don’t sound so bummed, honey. When people get older, they just don’t get as excited about their birthdays as you guys.” You lay your head against the window, looking out at the buildings that blur past. It was an overcast day anyway. Maybe it just wasn’t supposed to be a celebratory day.

Once you two were home, he went to the kitchen while you went up to your room. You had planned a whole thing - bought pretty underwear, planned on making a cake together with him. You hear him call to you from the bottom of the stairs. “How does takeout sound, kiddo?” He isn't using his nicknames for you. 'Sweets,' 'Princess,' 'Honey'… They always make you giggle and blush, no matter what. How can you get into the mood if he isn’t entertaining you?

You come out of your room clad in your white tights and bra, hands resting gently on the doorway. “Just get whatever, I don’t care.” You see his eyes flicker down to your chest, then back up to your face. “How about pizza? Chinese, maybe?” Once more, he glances at your chest, then back up to your face. You shrug once more. “Just whatever.” You repeat, making his face fall. “You have to work with me, sweets. You know how you get. I get something you don’t like, you make me drive you 40 minutes for something outlandish. Like kebabs.” You would have giggled if you weren't so bummed.

“Just get pepperoni.” As you retreat back into your room, Hayden comes up the stairs and follows after you. He looks around your room - at the posters on the wall, the fairy lights strung along your headboard, and the picture of you two on your vanity. He plops down on your plush bed, leaning back on his hands as he watches you shimmy out of your tights. “What’s wrong?”

You toss them, fabric flowing through the air and landing on the bed, just missing your dad’s thigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You dismiss him quickly, making him sigh exasperatedly. “If you don’t talk about it, I can’t figure out what’s wrong, and won’t be able to help you, sweets. So, come on.” He sits up and pats his lap. “Lay it on me.”

This was too good to be true.

Hesitantly, now in your bra and panties, you perch yourself on his thigh. He reaches down and puts your legs over his lap, other arm wrapping around your midsection. “Tell me all about it.” He was giving you that pretty, pretty smile. You mirror it. Everyone always told you - you smile just like your dad.

“I just thought you’d be more excited for your birthday, dad.” You murmur. The clock on the wall ticks, seconds going by before your dad gives your side a gentle squeeze; But he doesn’t speak. You continue, “I miss when I was little. You’d let me throw you birthday tea parties with all my plushies, and we’d have those nasty artificial store-bought cupcakes with the red frosting. Is red even still your favorite color?” He chuckles. “It is.”

A handful more seconds pass. You two just stare at each other. You swallow down your growing anxiety. “I want to do something more for you… But I can’t if you don’t let me, you know.” He pulls you up further onto his lap. “What did you have in mind, sweets?” He murmurs softly, hand coming to cup your face, thumb rubbing gently across your rosy cheek. You lean into his touch, biting at your bottom lip. “Can I show you?” When he nods, you slink off his lap, and point to the seat of your vanity. “Sit there, and close your eyes.” His brows furrow in confusion, but he obeys your command, going over to the small pink-cushioned bench.

He heard a shit ton of rustling and shuffling before hearing your bed gently creak in protest underneath your weight, followed by a gentle exhale. “You can open them now dad.” Boy, when he did, the sight that greeted him caught him off guard immensely.

You. In the nude, legs spread wide, a pink jelly dildo in your hand. “Honey,” You shake your head. “Hush. Just watch, okay?” He couldn’t refuse his little girl. He swallows and licks his lips, hands resting flat on his thighs. The tip of the dildo rubs up and down your slit, makes a little circle over your clit, then slides back down. He didn’t dare look away.

Never in his life would he admit he’d gotten himself off to the thought of his daughter like this - never before now, at least. Your lithe, youthful, supple body had enraptured him for who knows how long, but all he could do was listen through the wall during nights you pleasured yourself, falsely assuming your dad was sleeping.

“Hnn…” He hadn’t even noticed that the fake cock was a fourth of the way in your tiny virgin pussy. He’d kill to be in its place.

You couldn’t help but feel filled with cocky satisfaction at the sight of your father’s cock hardening along his thigh. It was a dream come true. Ever since you were just a girl, you’d had a crush on your dad. Whenever he’d pick you up and spin you around, your little feet would kick and a happy giggle would leave your lips, and he’d press a kiss to each of your pink cheeks, big hands on your waist and pretty eyes fixed on yours.

Hayden’s hand absentmindedly begins to palm his cock through his jeans. “Dad,” You drawl, the sound of your gentle plea accompanied by the lewd squelch of your pussy getting penetrated by the 8 inch dildo he had no idea you even owned until today. “You bought that for me? Just for me?” He asks, legs spreading as he fumbles with his button and zipper. You nod, toes curling and eyes closing shut. “Jus’ for you,” The poor man wasn’t strong enough for this! He’d been single for years, and jacking off wasn’t cutting it. Now one of his biggest fantasies was soon to come true - getting to fuck his pretty, barely legal daughter.

Once his cock is free from the stuffy confines of his jeans, he quickly finds the matching rhythm, and pumps his cock to the strokes of the jelly dildo going in and out of your cunt. “God,” He rasps, eyes half-lidded as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Eyes rolled back, lips parted. Perfection.

“Gonna cum,” You gasp, squirming about on the bed. “Gonna cum, dad.” He bucks his hips up into his hand, eyes trained on your glistening folds. “Keep going sweets,” His voice was strained, cheeks flushed. “Like that - shit, just like that.” You whine softly, back arching up off the bed as you throw your head back. “Wan’ you to cum in me,”

He wastes no time in getting up and making his way to you. He grabs your ankles and snatches you to the end of the bed, taking the dildo out and away from you, discarding it on the bed next to you. “Fuck,” He guides his cock into your entrance, knees nearly buckling at the sensation of your gummy walls enveloping him. It’d been so long since he’d been inside a woman.

“Inside you,” He repeats after you, leaning down to cup your face. “Inside you?” You nod eagerly, reaching up and tangling your hands in his curls. Both of your faces were flushed, sweat dampening your foreheads. “Nowhere else.” You whisper. Neither of you broke eye contact - refusing to. Unable to.

Hayden’s hips stutter as his eyes flutter closed. His seed spurted into you, the most he’s ever cum in months. “Ohhh…” he swallows, trying to catch his breath. You play in his curls, both of you basking in the afterglow of a dream come true.

“My little girl,” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Always giving the best gifts.” His voice is now a whisper as he gently rubs your red cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “This is the best one so far, I think.”

He stands straight and looks down, slowly pulling his softening penis out of you. A shaky exhale along with a shudder is his reaction at the sight of you pushing his warm load out of your hole. “Good girl,” He whispers as he runs his hands through his hair. “The best girl.” You smile brightly as you lay your head back. 

“Happy Birthday, daddy.”

#૮( ꩜ ㅅ ꩜)ა bnuuy loves hayden christensen #₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ bnuuy's drabbles! #₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ bnuuy's fics #₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ bnuuy's fics! #hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden imagine #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen x reader smut #hayden smut #hayden x you #hayden x reader #hayden x reader smut #hayden fanfic #hayden fanfiction #hayden christensen smut fic #hayden christensen smut fanfiction #hayden christensen smut fanfic #hayden christensen's birthday #my fic #fanfic #ficlet #fanfiction #fiction

[forlorn-crows]

Crowy dearie my mind is a MESS with this idea. But aether is definitely uncut and has a thing for docking. He’ll take turns with mountain or he’ll completely cover dew or or or HHHHHHHHHHH

jhnfnf. oh you know he does. especially when its over dew's little tdick. fits perfectly under there, doesn't it?

docking, transmasc dew, a little bit of knotting, and a little bit of daddy aether under the cut >:)

(based on this post from all the way back in november)

It’s maddening. Over and back, over and back. Foreskin kissing the pulled-back hood on every stroke, and every stroke as slow and sensitive as the last. He could cum like this. Cover Dew’s little dick in creamy white and hold it there within his skin until they both shake from it. 

“A-Aethe,” Dew begs, “you’re driving me crazy.” The swollen head of his cock kicks against Aether’s slit, and the bigger ghoul nearly doubles over. “A little—fuck—faster, just a little, ‘m right there.”

Their fingers touch as Aether really stretches it past the mushroom tip, covering him fully. Dew sighs the quietest uh he thinks he’s ever heard, and it takes everything in him not to slide right between those wet folds and sheathe himself inside. 

“Gods, it’s so soft,” he groans. Over and back. Holding again. “Fuck, could just—” He pinches the skin between thumb and forefinger, rolling it around the little shaft. “Oh—”

“—shitshitshit.” Dew clutches the quint’s forearm and arches into it. Head tossing back and forth, eyes fluttering, struggling to stay open. “Yes, keep-uh huh—”

“Just like that?” Aether breathes. He’s so stiff, veins along his length just plump with blood; but Dew has to cum first, has to.

“Please,” he wheezes. “Fuck,” he grits through his teeth, “gonna cum, you’re gonna make me . . . oh—” His feet start to kick, toes curling into the back of Aether’s shins, and his face and gaze start to go dumb, lax. Little chest blooming with the rosiest heat. But his hands are gripping tight as ever, tendons popping, nails digging into Aether’s arm, and that’s when he knows to push him over the edge.

“There you go, cum inside it,” he groans. “Wanna feel it throb, wanna see how wet this makes you.” He doubles down on the pressure, using his foreskin like a makeshift cocksleeve, but so much more slippery and squishy-soft. Caressing in all the delicate places. The slight jerking of his fingers is what does it, wrenching from the fire ghoul a wounded, lowing sound. Aether fighting to keep his little dick sheathed inside as he bucks and twitches, watching with rapt attention as his entrance clenches around nothing. Slick nearly opaque as it slides towards his hole. 

“Hah. A-Aethe. Fuck,” Dew huffs. His hips eventually settle, but his dick still pulses against his slit; Aether can feel it jump between his fingers, nudging right against the opening, and for a split second he wishes he could shove it right in. The urge has him fumbling for the base of his cock, gripping hard so he doesn’t just bust right then.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back. 

Dew whimpers and tugs on his forearm, urging him back down. “Not yet, inside, you gotta—”

Aether’s growling and flipping the fire ghoul over before he can even babble for more, pressing his belly to the mattress and knocking his knees apart. Dynamic switching in an instant and he doesn’t care in the slightest. 

“Gonna squeeze my dick like I squeezed yours?” Dew only responds with a muffled fuck! into the mattress, letting Aether rub his over-sensitive head through his folds and pressing his ass back in encouragement. “Yeah, baby boy? Lemme hear you.” The quint ghoul grabs a handful of that long, ashen hair and pulls. Lithe body folding back on itself to arch even deeper.

“Shit,” the fire ghoul half laughs, half keens. Tail twitching up to expose himself more. “Lucifer.”

Aether hums, lining up. “You like that?” He twists the hand in his hair a little more, just enough to make Dew jolt and yip. 

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” he wheezes without a second thought. 

Aether thrusts in so fast it’s an unholy miracle he even makes it in.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he grunts into Dew’s neck once he folds himself over his back. “Fuck, got me so sensitive already, firefly.”

He can feel every ridge, every press of his head to that place deep inside, foreskin drawn completely back now as he pumps in and out. Dew shakes under his touch, craning and arching for more with every stroke. Letting Aether take what he wants, how he wants.

“That’s it,” Aether praises. “Gonna look so good on my knot.” He grips the fire ghoul’s throat with one hand and reaches down with the other to flick at his swollen dick. He grinds in hard, full, fuzzy balls grazing the tips of his own fingers. The hand on Dew’s neck tightens.

Dew lets loose a string of reedy ah ah ah’s, sounds that are like candy to Aether; once he gets some, he wants more. So he thrusts harder, jerks him faster. And in no time, the little ghoul starts to pulse around him, crying out yes and please and close.

Aether’s close too. Can feel the swell of that bulb at the base of his cock, looking for something to clamp around it.

“Gonna cum on my knot?” he asks gruffly. “Want Daddy to make you feel good?” Dew can only nod with bitten-lip, whimpering when the edge of his knot presses against his entrance. “Good boy, so fucking good for me, love.”

Aether grips him hard at the waist and grinds in, spreading and stretching until his wet walls beg to swallow it whole. That’s when he speeds his hand, focusing right at the place the little head peeks out from the hood. Precise. Devastating. 

“Oh no,” Dew sobs. “Push it in, push it—gonna—oh fuck.”

And when he does, the effect is immediate; the fire ghoul cries out, cunt squeezing around Aether as a gush of fluid splashes the front of his balls and squirts onto the sheets. Body going rigid under Aether’s hands. It only takes a few more squeezes before the quintessence ghoul is cumming too, groaning as he fills that slender body with everything he’s got. 

please consider reblogging ♡

#the band ghost fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #dewdrop/aether #aether/dewdrop #ficlet #dewdrop x aether #aether x dewdrop #transmasc dewdrop #i was so happy to get this request LMAO #ask #the band ghost #cw: daddy kink #cw: knotting #cw: docking #do i love the ending? no. but its an ending. #hope it ruins everyone's night >:)

[typinggently]

Hip against the table, that gets his attention. “Hey.”

Sam looks up from his notes. “Hey?” Quizzical, with his eyes slipping away for a split second to check the clock on the far wall. “I thought you’d come get me at six.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “Guy can’t change his mind? It’s a free country.”

That gets him one of those puppy frowns, some frankenemotion of amusement and annoyance, with some suspicion thrown in the mix. “Well, I’m not done.”

Dean is already pulling back a chair, legs scraping over dark grey carpet floors. “That’s cool, I’ll wait.” He sits, chair groaning as Sam shrugs and returns his attention to the book in front of him. Not even a ‘sure, whatever’.

But that’s fine, that’s cool. Dean can wait.

He looks at the wall, watches the clock tick away silently at the next minute. He looks at the carpet floors, wonders how many stains have soaked into the carpet and if any would show up under black light. He looks at the books, tries to guess their topic without moving in closer. He looks at Sam.

The seams of his shirt are pulled tight, crinkling a little. It’s Dean’s, used to be, some vague shade of dark blue that always looked better on Sam. Rolled up, too, the ass, and stretched over his biceps. His forearms are tan and strong, he’s fidgeting with his pen as he reads. The rhythmic click-clack of his pen should be annoying, but it just draws the eye to his long fingers. When Dean flicks his gaze up, it sticks to the shadows under Sam’s collar, the dip between his collar bones. Shoulders, the golden shimmer on his chin where the neon light catches in his afternoon stubble. His Cupid’s bow. The mole on his cheek.

“Hey.”

Hum, no real answer. Sam flips a page, circles something in his tattered spiral notebook.

“Hey.” Dean kicks his chair.

“What?” Annoyed, this time. Sam glances over, long lashes and a furrow between his brows.

But Dean is leaning in already. One hand rests on the table, crinkling paper under his palm. The tip of his nose brushes Sam’s cheek, then he fits their mouths together.

Sam tastes like Sam, like a day at the library, like dusty carpets and the scent of books. Like the aftertaste of coffee, like neon lights and surprise. Dean nips, coaxes. His neck aches, his lower back pulses with pain, but he doesn’t pull back until Sam returns the kiss, until he rests a warm palm on Dean’s cheek and everything tastes like Sam, Sam, Sam. Until the book slips off the table and bounces on the carpet floors. Forgotten.

[i hate your phone, throw it away // I wish it had never even been invented]

#this is so rough #but you know what we’re getting at. D getting jealous of inanimate objects #clown boys #ficlet #drabble #<- I need to export everything in the D tag into the F tag but I haven’t done that yet #it’s 3:30 am #by now #I’m so tired #so I might get back to this at some point in a more coherent manner

[strwbrrylou]

Cold but you keep me warm

Stargoth (Chase x Buddy) ficlet. 1,165 words.

My first time writing a fanfic, with a little help from AI (pls dont kill me </3) I hope you like it.

>>>

"This is not happening," Chase muttered, pacing in the small cabin that kept him and his nemesis from the snowstorm quickly brewing outside.

Buddy shot him a quick glare before rolling his eyes. "Believe me, I'm not thrilled about it either," he said drily as he tries to lie comfortably on the small bed which barely had enough room for two people.

Chase did nothing but grimace. He didn't expect this story's route to take such an unfortunate turn at all. He regrets letting Deacon choose the story so, so much. Nothing ever goes well whenever he gives that nerd a chance to choose a novel. Chase knew he always had weird and complex tastes, much to his dislike.

Because out of all the books he owned, why did he have to pick one with a natural disaster that trapped and most likely killed the heroine and the villainess together in a bleak and small unwelcoming cabin?

The silence between them continued until the blond finally felt a shudder run down his spine. Either from the chilly air that threatened to freeze them inside the cabin or the thought of having to lie in the same bed with the annoying Mall Goth if he wanted to stop shivering from the godforsaken cold.

"Do you want to die from hypothermia?" Buddy stares at him. Chase couldn't tell if he was finally concerned for him or if he was mocking him, like usual.

"Of course I don't!" he grits his teeth that chattered from each word he spoke.

"Well, it looks like you'll freeze to death soon, if you choose to stay over there, idiot."

Chase glared at him, but Buddy was right. The cold is numbing that he might actually just freeze to death. After a while, he reluctantly made his way to the unappealing bed in defeat, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet.

It's just one night. He can do this. He can stay awake the entire night to make sure Buddy doesn't do anything suspicious until the snowstorm clears off. Yeah, no biggie. It's just a bed. A small bed. With Buddy lying down on said small bed.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid." Buddy sighed as if he can read his thoughts and pulled the covers over himself, moving to the edge of the bed. Chase was relieved that he was willing to give him space. Without a word, he settled on the soft mattress, feeling the warmth slowly creep up to him.

But he still felt cold.

He tugs on the blanket, frowning. His attempts were futile as Buddy was hoarding the whole bundle of warmth. Making it obvious that he didn't want to share.

With a frustrated grunt, Chase tugs it harder one more time. "Can you stop taking the entire blanket? It's not even yours!"

Buddy ignored him and buried himself deeper under the covers. "Great, you're not responding. Is this how you handle conflicts? Being the avoidant type?" He scoffed and decided to edge closer to Buddy's side. He ignores the way their bodies are touching.

But he failed to ignore how his heart skipped a beat as he felt Buddy's body heat against his cold skin.

Chase cursed and punches himself mentally.

This is so not happening.

As time passes by, Chase could feel himself getting more restless by the cold and the silence. The cabin was quiet aside from his own breath that fogged through the icy air.

He finally risked a glance at Buddy, only to see his slim back.

"Hey," he mutters. The goth ignores him.

"Hey, I'm cold," Chase whined.

Slowly, Buddy turns to his side with a sigh. His icy blue eyes meet Chase's warm brown ones.

"And?"

"You're a jerk, at least share your blanket or something."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You have to or I'll die from hypothermia like you said."

Buddy remained quiet and unmoving, but his gaze lingered on him, as if he was studying every inch of his face. Before Chase could complain again, Buddy brought the blanket up to the smaller boy, letting the soft material drape over the two of them.

As Buddy shifted slightly, his arm brushed against Chase's, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Chase swallowed hard, his heart quickening its pace in his chest. They were so close that if he really examined him enough he could see his long eyelashes that made him look so attractive-

What is wrong with him?

This is his nemesis. The most annoying guy he has ever met. The guy who would do anything to stop him from getting what he wants.

He should really stop staring.

"You're so easy to read, you know that?" Buddy said. Did he just snicker at him? Chase snapped back to where he was and sees Buddy's cocky expression.

He notices the slight tint of pretty pink on his ears, and Chase wonders if he's also feeling what he feels or if it's just an effect from the cold.

"Ugh," Chase dismisses, annoyed at how his heartbeat is still racing. He doesn't want to engage in this conversation anymore.

While Chase watches bitterly, Buddy's eyes slowly drift shut, his cocky deameanor gone and replaced by a weary yet peaceful expression. Like they weren't just hit with a surging storm outside.

Like they weren't arguing over the blanket a few moments ago.

Like he doesn't mind his close proximity to Chase and letting him see him sleep like this—all vulnerable.

Chase's bitterness fades and instead, he felt a pang of softness for the other boy as he scrutinizes the tired expression etched across his face, even though he can't seem to explain why.

It's getting dark now. The wind outside is howling and Chase still feels so cold. But Buddy is already asleep.

He scoots closer to him, ignoring how his head is slightly touching Buddy's chin, because the blanket isn't really doing him good any more. In this awkward position, he could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

For once, the idiot doesn't seem so threatening and irritating.

Chase is surprised at how warm the latter feels. He wished he could embrace him. Or something. But that's out of the picture, obviously. Why would he want to embrace OR be embraced by this guy? He blames the alarming thoughts on him feeling stupidly cold and his dying need for something warm.

As he tries to calms his racing thoughts down, he soon feels a sense of peace and ease wash over him.

Whatever. This will be tomorrow Chase's problem. For now, he relishes in the soothing warmth shared between him and his nemesis.

Not too long after, he begrudgingly falls into a comfortable slumber with Buddy breathing softly by his side, both of them enveloped by the soft blanket and the gentle heat that mingled between their bodies.

Which was, to be quite honest, enough to keep the both of them warm.

>>>>

im not sure how this went but i hope it was okay 😵‍💫😵‍💫 crazy this webtoon got me to write and do smth out of my comfort zone

#cinderella boy webtoon #cinderella boy #ficlet

[sovaghoul]

Something that sprang from conversation with @the-moon-in-the-gutter, as per usual. CW death mention, implied consensual violence.

It took months for Omega to come out of mourning. Not that anyone blamed him. Losing his mate was devastating, and even more crushing was still living in the very institution that had brought about his end. Alpha became his solace then, one of the few who felt the loss at anywhere near the same level. They had been his left-hand Ghouls, and now all that remained was each other.

The first time they fell into bed together, Omega had begged through his sobs for punishment, because he couldn't save his mate. He'd needed to be broken, because he'd been too slow and weak to stop it, too stupid to see the signs before it was too late. Alpha tearfully obliged, conducting the session without any joy or fulfillment. Omega had thanked him as he continued to sob in Alpha's arms.

Somewhere deep inside, though, Alpha felt gratitude. He pushed it down, down, down, hoping to stamp it out under his boots. But the fact remained that Omega was finally his and his alone. And so bittersweet was the victory, that he despised it. He knew this was the only version of events that could have brought Omega to him. He'd pined for his companion for years, but the mating bond couldn't be broken except in death, and Alpha knew that. He kept his distance respectable. He never so much as considered tempting Omega to stray. Omega would have never known, if he hadn't come to Alpha for that comfort.

Regardless, he'd always looked at the Quintessence Ghoul as if he'd hung the stars that birthed him. And as Omega found peace in sleep this particular night, many months having passed again, Alpha kept a vigil over him, to keep the trauma-fueled nightmares at bay, a role reversal if there ever was one. He watched his partner with the purest, most abject adoration, filled to bursting with love, offering a silent prayer of thanks to the Dark Lord for His boon after all this time. Alpha believes -- knows -- that this other Ghoul loves him. And he also knows that he's not always the one Omega's hands search for in the middle of the night.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #omega ghoul #alpha ghoul #ficlet #fanfic

[adrift-in-thyme]

Here it is! The fairy Time fic I promised. Be warned, it is extremely fluffy

-------------------------------------------

It is a quiet night.

Time is always grateful for those. They are in short supply on this journey, too often interrupted by the rise of the cursed Blood Moon or an outburst of beasts from under the cover of foliage. But tonight, the moon is tranquil and golden and the surrounding bushes and trees conceal nothing except chattering critters.

The heroes have settled around the fire, and are trading lazy quips. The occasional tale sneaks in between them, which quickly becomes a competition to see who has endured the more exciting experience. 

Time doesn’t normally make a habit of joining in. He is content to remain just outside the conversation, close enough to comment if necessary, but far enough to merely listen. Such peace and joy are precious things – as precious as every moment spent by Malon’s side – and they surround him like a warm blanket.  

Tonight, however, that wonderful feeling is making it rather difficult to remain awake. 

It doesn’t help that the healing spells he had cast in the aftermath of today’s battle have left him feeling drained. With the traveler down and their potions used up, he had had little choice but to act. And he doesn’t regret it in the least. But that doesn’t negate the fact that healing magic has never been his strong suit.

Every fae possesses the power, yet not all have the strength to employ it in such a measure as he had today. Healing is a delicate act. It requires attentiveness and care, dedication and focus. He had poured all of that and more into his spells, used his heart and mind, his soul to heal his brothers’ wounds and save their lives. And in the moments afterward…had collapsed. 

He is fortunate his brothers had been there to catch him. Too many times before he learned his limit, this weakness had spelled his doom. He has scars on his wings to prove it.

Still, he is practically useless, even now after the impromptu nap. He feels dried up and hollowed out, limbs heavy with the same exhaustion that drags his eyelids downward. And though he would normally protest at least a little at the prospect of staying in his current position, he cannot dredge up the will to do so.

So, here he remains, curled up on his side on Wind’s lap, Warriors’ scarf a silken cocoon about his body, one giant wing draped over him like a comforter. 

He shifts with a small sigh. The sailor giggles, ever amazed at his fairy form, and reaches out to run a finger over Time’s wings. He is gentle, careful in every movement. Still, Time is a bit surprised at the lack of the fear that usually bubbles up whenever anyone touches him in this form.

He has had too many injuries, too many close calls with death or worse. They have made him wary. But he trusts the sailor. Wind is nothing if not kind. 

He is safe here. 

The knowledge hits him harder than any monster blow.

You are safe here.

Something breathtakingly warm wells up in him at that thought, similar to the feeling he has been basking in since he awakened, yet unique all the same.

“Alright, old man?” A soft voice asks, now, and Time pries open the eye he hadn’t even registered closing. Warriors grins down at him. 

Time’s soft hum quickly dissolves into a blissful sigh as the captain tucks him more securely into his bed of softness. He allows his eye to slide shut again, his body to relax more fully. He allows the sensations and sounds to envelop him, surround him in warmth and comfort. To pull him down into blessed darkness once more.

“He’s adorable like this,” Wind says, his noisy whisper breaking through the haze. Another giddy giggle bursts forth from him like gurgling water. 

“He is, isn’t he?” It’s Twilight now. Time can imagine the dirt-eating grin on his face, the same one that spreads across Malon’s when she beats him in yet another race around the pasture. “Though I doubt he wants us calling him that.”

There’s a pause, then in a disapproving whisper-yell, “and he definitely doesn’t want that. Put that slate of yours away, champion!”

There is the distinct sound of a camera snapping a photograph. Laughter ripples through the group like the wind through the trees. 

“When he kills you all, don’t come running to me,” Twilight says, though there’s laughter in his voice too.

Traitors, Time thinks, lazily, all of them.

“Oh, come on, Twi. Look at him! He wouldn’t hurt us! Not like this anyway.”

“Then, you haven’t gotten a good look at his wings,” Legend pipes up, drily. “They’ve got eyes on them, you know.”

“Ooh.” Time can feel Wind’s breath ghosting him as the boy leans down to get a closer look. “I wonder if they make up for the one he lost. I’ll bet he can see us through ‘em!”

If Time wasn’t quite so tired (or finding this quite so exasperatingly comical) he would correct that assumption. But then again, what’s the harm in allowing a little rumor like that to spread and strike some healthy fear into the hearts of his would-be blackmailers? 

“Come on guys.” Warriors’ voice rises above the hushed clamor of the others, all bickering about Time’s ability, or lack thereof to watch them through his wings. “He’s exhausted. Let him sleep.”

The heroes try to quiet, though their efforts are about as successful as Time suspected they would be. Whispers and barely stifled laughter continue to weave their way gallantly through the night.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

…though a few more telltale clicks of Wild’s slate cement his decision to play a prank on him as soon as he regains his strength. 

“He’s so small,” someone murmurs, now as the hubbub begins to subside, sleepiness getting the best of even the most energetic among them. Sky, Time’s mind slowly supplies, putting a face to the voice that wafts gently around him. “To think, he healed us all while in that form…”

“Something you get to know very quickly about Sprite is that size doesn’t bother him,” Warriors replies, fondness in his tone. “Even as a kid, he could take out groups of monsters much larger than what we faced today.”

Sky chuckles, soft and almost sad. Time is too far gone to decipher why. 

But he can’t deny the sudden rush of warmth when the chosen hero whispers, “thank you…little one.” And when, in the next moment, Sky ghosts a finger over the very tip of his wings, Time is unafraid beneath his touch. 

He drifts off not long afterward to the sound of tired murmurs, the crackling of the campfire, and a soft song played upon an ocarina, the notes drifting up toward the moon.

#me: this au has so much potential for angst and whump #also me: time is now conveniently snuggle-sized and I must take advantage of that #this poor man #i'm either smothering him with snuggles #or torturing him in the most painful and traumatizing ways #there is no in between #alas tis the cost of being my blorbo #trin writes #fairy time au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #ficlet #fluff #so much fluff #lu time #lu chain #lu twi #lu twilight #lu wind #lu sky #also this is set later than my other two fics #by this point everyone's had a chance to find out time's secret #though some have known for longer than others

[frankenjoly]

“So that confession…” “Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk. And I don’t want you accepting that. Let me confess to you, properly, at the least.” + kunichuu 👀 <3

“So that confession…” 

It was awkward, asking like that. But Kunikida would rather go through it than simply leave things unsaid and regret what may have been later on.

“Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk.” Chûya instantly answered, making his heart drop for a second. Did that mean–? No, because that wasn’t the end of it. “And I don’t want you acceptin’ that. Let me confess to you, properly, at least.” The brief moment of worry instantly made way for relief, then enthusiasm.

“By all means, go on.” Kunikida answered, just as quickly and nodding with intensity.

“Listen, I meant all I said about you bein’ strong as fuck, physically and mentally. And gorgeous. And how the world’d be way fuckin’ better if more people were like you, ‘cause it’s true. You’re goddamn great, and I’ve fallen so hard not even my ability can pull me up.” Kunikida smiled. “Okay, that sounded cheesy as hell, but whatever, lemme be cheesy.” The smile turned into a small, joyful laughter. “So, would you wanna date?”

Right after Chûya finished speaking, he took a deep breath, not out of nervousness but to prepare himself to answer with something that made such a confession justice… or at least didn’t turn him into a stuttering mess.

“I’d love that, very much.”

(Also on ao3.)

#kunichuu #kunikida doppo #nakahara chūya #bsd kunikida #bsd chuuya #bsd #bungou stray dogs #my stuff #clau stuff #ficlet #hehehe #i thought it'd be funny to have chuuya like “no this doesn't count” #*proceeds to reference that confession in the actual confession*

[infiniteeight8]

Something with age difference and meeting again when the other is older or it could be magical.

(An additional Ask was sent to clarify that this is IronStrange.)

This is going to be very exposition-y. I got the idea and really liked it and there isn’t space to write it properly in a prompt response, but I like it enough that I don’t want to come up with a different response, either. 

Looking up timelines for this got frustrating fast, so please just take any timeline weirdness as part of the AU. 😀

-

Tony has never told anyone—not Pepper, not Rhodey, not anyone—but he’s pretty sure he met the love of his life when he was 18.

It was a weird, liminal period of his life. His parents had just died, he’d graduated college but hadn’t been inducted into the company yet, and he was in that limbo between teenager and adult. Obadiah, for better or for worse, had been too tied up in stabilizing the company after Howard’s death to worry about Tony.

Tony had been very much at sea, and he probably would have gone unrecoverably off the rails if it hadn’t been for Stephen.

Stephen should have been the first of those unrecoverable decisions, really. He was twice Tony’s age, male, and apparently free of any responsibilities or ties of any kind. To any normal person, Stephen was a panoply of red flags.

To Tony, he’d been a safe harbor. Someone who would never turn him away and never judge him. Stephen was the one person Tony could say anything to without fear. Which wasn’t to say Stephen was a simpering yes-man. God, no. He could be acerbic as hell, and he didn’t hesitate to tell Tony when he was being an idiot. He also never left, no matter how much of an idiot Tony had been.

The end, when it came, hadn’t had anything to do with Tony. There are people looking for me, Stephen had said, and if they find me here, there will be terrible consequences. I can’t let that happen. My life would be… meaningless.

Tony had argued, of course. Had sworn up and down that he could protect Stephen. But he wasn’t twenty-one yet and didn’t have the resources or the clout he had now, especially not to protect a male lover back then. He doesn’t blame Stephen for not believing him. They had two years before Stephen was forced to vanish. Tony had always assumed he was running from the mob, or something like it. 

Now, the words Keeper of the Time Stone ring in his ears as Tony stares at Stephen Strange. He’s younger than Tony, the gray at his temples less pronounced than it was before, his crow’s feet almost absent. It’s only a few years, but it’s a few years in the wrong direction; Stephen should have been almost twenty years older than Tony.

Somehow, Tony manages to shake his hand. “The Time Stone, huh?” he says. “I guess time travel must be just another Tuesday for you.”

Stephen chuckles. “Not at all. Time travel can have terrible consequences; it’s always a last resort.”

Terrible consequences. 

A giddy feeling wells up inside Tony. He met the love of his life at 18, but the love of his life hasn’t met him yet. 

The relationship never ended, it just hadn’t started yet.

#IronStrange #age difference #ficlet

[houseofevanbuckley]

hc that Buck will keep Tommy company while he works on his machinery and Tommy watches documentaries with Buck 💕

Buck visiting Tommy and complaining about his car making a weird noise and having to bring it to the mechanic for the 3rd time in as many months.

His jeep is getting a bit old now but it’s filled with memories and he refuses to change it.

Tommy who go trained on various vehicles throughout his life. A neighbor teaching him when he was a teenager. Training at the army. Training at the fire academy and then flying academy.

He’s been tinkering in various machineries for years and he’s not going to let a simple jeep best him. Buck is happy to let Tommy look at it, it will save him some money he could use otherwise. Like for a date maybe.

The issue tho? It’s that Tommy has working clothes, and by working clothes I mean an old pair of jeans, covered in old oil stains, a white tank top which is clean but has old stains that dried, but still quite white, and some heavy boots in case something fall on his feet. It happened before and Tommy learned from it.

Buck never thought jeans would drive him insane, but the way it curves around Tommy’s thighs? The way a black stains is just under his left cheek like he rubbed himself there to clean his hand, actually Buck can even divine the form of fingers on that stains and it’s calling to him.

To forget about the heat pooling inside him he gets close to the car and Tommy who just opened it and moving things around and just watch, until he says “you know, my dad never taught me anything about cars. Is it weird?”

And Tommy just goes “you wanna learn?” With a soft smile, just offering, no judgement whatever Buck decides

And so Tommy work and talk during the whole process, he knows Buck loves knowledge, trivia, information and Tommy is more than happy to info dump his boyfriend for once.

Once Tommy fix what the issue was, it was just regular stuff but a mechanic would have either ignore it so Buck would come back and spend more or spend only like 30 minutes on it to fix it since it was quite simple.

They get clean together, Tommy getting his regulars clothes back on him while Buck has to change bc he got some stains on him even just while looking but it doesn’t care about it. The price was more than worth paying.

And then they go on Tommy’s couch, Buck still doesn’t have one but he doesn’t need one anymore, not when Tommy’s so comfy. Tommy who pick up the remote while Buck get some snack ready for them and he goes through the channels until he reaches National Geographic and it’s the opening for a new documentary about volcanoes and he gets distracted from the tv when Buck comes back with their drink so he doesn’t change the channel and then see how Buck is already entranced by it even 3 minutes after the opening, and he’s gonna ask if Buck want to watch it when Buck goes “did you know that the biggest volcano in on mars?”

And Tommy knows he doesn’t have to ask anymore, he just hums while picking some food off the coffee table and listen to every facts from Buck and watches him get so animated as they watch it

Buck even going against what the narrator is saying and being right about it when the narrator a few minutes later elaborate more which goes toward what Buck was saying and Tommy is just so smitten by his clever boy. Kissing him on his temple and pulling him against his side while Buck keep randomly shoutings facts and going on his phone to assess the veracity of what the narrator is talking about.

They spend their evening like that, documentaries replacing one an other, Buck leaning against him and talking freely for hours, showing Tommy how interesting the world can be.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #911 abc #tevan #evan buck buckley #buck and tommy #tommybuck #evan x tommy #anon games #anon ask #headcanon #ficlet #Tommy couldn’t love him more #Tommy watching how Buck’s brain work and being so smitten he’s thinking about getting some scientific magazine delivered #he just want to enjoy Buck’s brilliant brilliant brain #and Buck want to see Tommy’s calloused hands work #see his fingers touching and working; creating things and repairing them #competency kink

[reallygroovyninja]

Lexa's eyes followed the streaks of light as they zipped past the limousine window. Tonight, she was on her way to a company dinner, an event meant to forge and strengthen alliances in the corporate world. Yet, the leather seat beside her felt glaringly empty without Clarke, who was currently presenting at a medical conference across the country.

The first time they had attended an event together, Clarke was there as her escort—an arrangement born out of necessity rather than choice. Lexa had needed an alpha to accompany her, someone who could play the part convincingly in a world where appearances were paramount. Clarke had been poised and perfect, her professionalism indistinguishable from genuine affection, making everyone believe they were indeed a couple.

But what had started as a mere facade had blossomed into something incredibly real and deep. Over time, their initial arrangement gave way to a genuine connection, to laughter shared and nights spent talking about hopes and fears. They had grown from strangers playing a role to partners bound by love, leading to marriage and the joyous chaos of raising children together.

Sitting in the limo, Lexa let her mind drift to those early days—the ease of their first genuine conversation, the way Clarke's smile had slowly stopped being just part of the act, and how naturally her hand had found Lexa's during those events, a comforting anchor amidst the social whirlpool.

Pulling out her phone, Lexa sent a quick message to Clarke, a simple heart and a picture of the seat beside her. She smiled softly as her phone buzzed with Clarke's immediate response, a string of emojis that spoke of love and mutual longing.

As the car pulled up to the venue, Lexa gathered herself, smoothing her dress and checking her reflection one last time. She might have entered their first event on Clarke's arm as part of an arrangement, but tonight, as every night since they truly found each other, she carried Clarke's love and support with her. Even in absence, Clarke was her strength, and with that, Lexa was ready to face the evening ahead.

#slice of life #blurred lines #ficlet #trying to get my head back into writing part 2 of that story

[exuberantocean]

Fourteen's just hanging out with the Mott-Temple-Nobles, sipping tea and leisurely debating gardening plans when the whomp-whomp of another Tardis sounds.

They all turn to see Fifteen's Tardis materialize. The door flies open, Fifteen pokes his head out.

"HEAL BETTER!" He yells before slamming the door and materializes away.

Everyone blinks.

"More tea?" Sylvia asks.

It's a typical Tuesday.

#doctor who #fanfic #ficlet #my writing #fifteenth doctor

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mechanic eddie munson #baker steve harrington #ficlet #fluff #meet cute #mutual pining #matchmaker dustin henderson #longing glances #dustin is sick of hearing steve talk about the hot mechanic next door but never making a move #dustin makes it for him #the party are a bunch of well-meaning menances #for some reason insomnia is an intrinsic part of steve's character even in an au

[stevieschrodinger]

Just Eddie complaining about the non existent dating pool and like, how hard it is for a gay dude and, when he has attempted to meet up with dudes it's never a real date or anything, and it's just drunken run ins with dudes who dont even try and hes just miserable that hes never going to get to experience a date like a real straight couple and Steve is just like. Hold my beer. I'll pick you up at five thirty, dress pretty.

And Steve is all like hell is this happening to my friend, not on my watch. And is determined that Eddie will get to experience this at least once, Steve's gonna make sure.

And he brings Eddie flowers, picks him up and takes him to a movie. Opens the car door and takes his jacket and pulls out his seat and they get some funny looks and some unhappy looks and Steve - highest body count in Hawkins, - Harrington can get away with saying shit like 'im training him up' and 'im showing him how it's done' and dammit if the waiter doesn't think that's hilarious and Eddie hates that this will never be real.

And they get back to the trailer and Eddie loves to fucking torture himself so he can't help but joke that this is the part where you kiss me goodnight, right?

And it's hands down the best date Steve's ever been on, so, cue up the crisis.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #steddie ficlet #ficlet #fic idea