#writing a ficlet about this soon

[p1nkcanoe]

the same way that phantom is a bat aurora is a butterfly and that’s why she wears the cape 🥹

#writing a ficlet about this soon #p1nk dab #aurora ghoulette #phantom ghoul

[rainbow-nerdss]

Eddie came out to Steve and Robin shortly after he got out of hospital. Robin came out to him first, and she made it clear Steve was accepting of her.

Eddie still worried though, because he knew guys could be just fine with lesbians but still get on the defensive when it came to gay guys existing around them He didn't want to believe that of Steve, not after everything they'd been through together, but he couldn't be sure all the same.

When he did finally manage to get the words out, he tried to sound casual, like it was no big deal, but of course he failed. In a lull in the conversation, Steve still mid-laugh from the last thing Robin said, Eddie just blurted it out. "I'm gay."

Just that. Those two words. Robin sat upright and yelled at him, something along the lines of "Why didn't you tell me before?" but Eddie wass too busy looking at Steve's reaction to answer her.

He watched as Steve's face fell, as the sparkle in his eyes dulled and his brows pulled together. Eddie felt his heart break a little, braced himself for rejection.

"Relax, man," he added, heart racing, saying anything he could think of to make Steve act normal about this. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Harrington. Just because I like guys doesn't mean I'm gonna turn around and hit on you, no offense but you're not my type."

It was a fucking lie, of course. At least partially. Because Steve wasn't Eddie's usual type, but that had stopped mattering the moment Eddie watched him bite that bat in half and it mattered even less with every subsequent interaction they had. The truth was, Eddie had it bad for Steve.

Steve took a moment, expression slowly filtering from whatever his initial reaction had been to something more supportive.

"Gee, thanks," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Good to know." Eddie sighed with relief. Steve reached out and rested a hand on Eddie's shoulder and Eddie did his best not to lean into the touch.

And they don't mention it again.

---

Steve had been trying to work up the courage to ask Eddie out for months. Every time Eddie bumped shoulders with him while they walked, every time he heard the sound of Eddie's guitar through an open window before he knocked on the door, every time they were alone together and Eddie was gesturing wildly talking about something Steve knew nothing about, Steve wanted to kiss him.

It was almost background noise after a while, but when Robin made it clear Eddie knew about her, that he was cool with it, that he'd been supportive, the feeling had exploded into something more.

Steve was embarrassed to say he was probaby just one of Eddie's blinding grins in his direction away from finding a notebook for the express purpose of scribbling the words Steve Munson, SH❤️EM all over the margins.

Maybe he could ask Eddie out, and maybe he wouldn't cut Steve off immediately, but there was a big difference between a girl coming out to you and some guy hitting on you directly, so Steve was waiting for the right time, when he could beat a hasty retreat and maintain some dignity if it went bad.

And then Eddie came out.

Steve felt himself freeze, hope fizzing in his chest as he tried his best not to look too giddy with excitement at the idea. He'd barely processed the words when Eddie said the rest.

No offense, but you're not my type

The hope which had previously started to blossom shrivelled up and died, while Steve stumbled through what he hoped was a supportive response. He wanted to make it clear that Eddie had nothing to fear from him, even while his heart broke.

Eddie liked guys.

Eddie just didn't like him.

Steve had been rejected before, but it had never stung like this.

(part 2)

#might write a follow up to this soon but ive been thinking about it all day and needed to share #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #steddie fic #ficlets and headcanons

[disasterbuck]

Oohhh for the prompts I'd love to see Buddie with the sidewalk rule 👀🥰

I'm so glad you chose the sidewalk rule because I had an idea for that one right after I reblogged the prompt post 😂

I hope you like it!! 💕

the sidewalk rule

established Buddie | 645 words

Buck was chatting away, his hands waving this way and that, and Eddie had a smile on his face as he walked beside him. They'd decided to walk down to the coffee shop on the corner of Buck's street together, to treat themselves after their long shift before Eddie had to leave to pick Chris up from school.

As he talked, Buck walked backwards in front of Eddie for a few steps before ending up on his other side.

"—and then it was introduced to England in like, the late 1700s," Buck was saying. How he'd gotten started on the history of dominoes, Eddie didn't know, but he definitely wasn't complaining. He could happily listen to Buck talk for hours about anything. "And it was all over the world by 1889! And although it originated in China, it's now way more popular in France and Belgium."

"And the Buckley-Diaz household," Eddie chimed in with a wink, referring to the set of dominoes Buck and Chris had been playing with for the past three weeks and making Buck blush.

While he was briefly distracted, Eddie gently took hold of Buck's wrist and guided him to the other side so that he was back on Eddie's left and Eddie was walking beside the road.

Buck frowned, then just continued talking about dominoes. But a few steps later, he cut across Eddie's path with a little spin so that he was back on Eddie's right.

With a scowl, Eddie stepped behind him and to the side, forcing Buck left. A giggle left Buck's lips and he ducked in to kiss Eddie quickly, distracting him, before taking the spot on the right again.

"Would you stop?" Eddie exclaimed, coming to a halt.

"Stop what?" Buck asked innocently, a bright grin on his face.

"You know what," Eddie said with a sigh. "Stop swapping sides!"

"Why?" Buck asked, a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

"Because…" Eddie trailed off, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. A particularly fast car sped past and he automatically reached out to grab Buck's arm, pulling him further away from the road.

"I didn't know you knew the sidewalk rule," Buck teased.

"The what?" Eddie asked, baffled.

"The sidewalk rule," Buck repeated, as if saying it again would bring any further insight. Thankfully, seeing Eddie's face, he went on – "It's the idea that your boyfriend should walk on the side closest to the road to keep you safe from any hazards."

"I have never heard of that in my life," Eddie said, mouth twisting slightly in disgust. "It sounds misogynistic. And besides, we're both the boyfriend in this relationship."

"Sure," Buck said easily, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "But then, why exactly don't you want me walking on this side?"

Eddie slid his hand down to Buck's, twisting their fingers together. He didn't want to tell Buck the truth; he didn't want Buck's bright and happy mood to be brought down. But…

"Because of Shannon," he said softly. "Because she… I know it doesn't make sense. We're in way more dangerous situations every day. And she wasn't on a sidewalk but on a crossing, so it was different—"

"Hey." Buck stepped right up into his space, cupping his face with his hands. "It's okay. It makes sense to me. If you want me to walk on the other side, I will."

"I do," Eddie admitted.

"Then I will," Buck said. Closing the distance between them, Buck kissed him softly and earnestly.

When they parted, Eddie was surprised to find that Buck had somehow turned them during the kiss without him noticing. He was once again standing between Buck and the road.

"Come on," Buck said, taking Eddie's hand in his and pulling him along the path.

Content, Eddie gently squeezed Buck's hand and listened as he went back to discussing the history of dominoes.

Tags:

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@i-am-married-to-my-fandom @therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @speggle

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @izzysbeans @jesuiscenseedormir

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #buck x eddie #evan buckley/eddie diaz #buddie 911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie boyfriends #usermoonsharky #as soon as I saw the prompt I just pictured buck and eddie fighting over who gets to stand beside the road #but then I started writing it and was like #hold up!!! #eddie would NOT know about this rule! #AND he'll think it's stupid #disaster writes

[domsaysstuff]

Steve's kindness is, like all self-taught one, a mirage of borrowed expressions, a collage of habits picked from people he loved, a bit stilled but eager and well-meaning, sometimes a bit chopped at the sides, a growing want to let the good feelings out in front of the right people.

Eddie liked to sometimes watch him and find all the signs of other people in him, try to match them up to right people.

He would watch and think - this is Nancy's stubbornness to never give up on people and Dustin's loyalty, he would see him trying to give advice to Dustin and see Johnathan's akward pep-talks to Will. The way he would always try to have snacks for the kids screamed both Joyce's and Mrs. Henderson motherly kindness. His willingness to sit in silence, a steady presence, when somebody needed it shined with Will's warmth. How he fights for the people he cares about, letting his meaness be a defense for them all, a barier and a shield similar to Max's snark.

And whenever he found himself to be the matching person? It made him feel loved, so fucking loved and seen that he would choke on it.

Eddie sometimes would make a game out of it, to found the matching puzzle whenever Steve's kindness shone (and it was a lot of the time). It was always someone from the party and he would always find himself with a strange fond warmth whenever he realized who it was. And usually he was good at it, it wasn't really hard when he loved and knew all those people too

There were exceptions though. The first one was Robin and it wasn't for the lack of Eddie's knowledge and love for her and moreso because of the whole RobinandSteve being always so SteveandRobin, never really separate. Whatever was Steve's was also Robin's, their clothes, habits or sometimes even their smiles shone in the same way. They were mismatched in a funny melted together sort of way, his kindness was her and hers was his and it was hard to difference between the two when even they didn't know where one ended and the other began, they traded traits like they traded clothes, wore them bright pink socks with yellow soft sweater, a joke to cheer you up with a soft you can tell me anything in the same breath.

He didn't really knew whose kindness it was the innate one that must have been deep within Steve before he let it shine or Robin's. He didn't think it would really matter anyway, they would trade it between themselves like shiny cards anyway.

The other one was a smile. An unique one, one that Eddie swore he saw somewhere before and that lacked the freckles and a missing teeth except noone in the party had these two traits, at least not as Eddie knew them and he could never find that one puzzle. It was boyish and full of mischief, usually with a starry reflection in Steve's eyes.

The last one was a lift in his tone, the way he would make his voice honey-like sweet when he tells Robin her new haircut suits her or El's new shirt brought out her eyes. The intonation always made Eddie think of bubble gum and sugared summers.

He couldn't place the last two to nobody. At least not until Steve told him about Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins.

Obviously Eddie knew about them, but Stevie didn't talk about how they are. But how they used to be.

"Sweet." he said while passing the joint they shared laying on Eddie's bed, pressed from shoulders to their ankles. "Carol used to be sweet, warm with the naive love only kids hold" Steve's eyes were looking out the window of Eddie's room, as if he could see the young version of them just outside playing childlish games. "and Tommy used to be wild. But not like bad wild, more like he was always chasing trouble, adventure. Like kids do."

And Eddie couldn't see it, not with how the world twisted them into different people, cruel. More cold, all sharp teeth and autumn's rain.

Except he could, he could in Steve's special smile and the sound of his voice, he could see it and he could see the love that Steve Harrington had for them.

"They're douchebags now," he said when Eddie voiced it out loud "but I did loved them once, sometimes I feel like I've never stopped, they just... Grew out of my love, grew into something I couldn't."

It should be strange, to love something someone isn't anymore, but to Eddie it just spoke of the way Steve Harrington threw himself into love, how he never really stopped loving and caring. It was admirable, it was so lovable and it was so Steve-like. Earnest in the sweetest way.

It made sense that Steve Harrington would love people even through his expression of it.

#idk what this is #i just kept thinking about how at some point Steve must have loved Tommy and Carol #and yeah some relationships are bad and you need to drop the people because they are as*h*les but that doesnt mean the love was never there #or that you don't sometimes feel the ghost of it when you think of them #And I think Eddie - just would watch the people he loves - would observe them and analyze them #cathegorize them or their habbits and expression into something a little cabinets in his mind #this is kind of shitty but oh well i've written it so now i'm bestowing it onto others #i'm trying to get back into writting because my laptop will be hopefully fixed soon and i'll actually could write then #but i cant so for now this ficlet is here #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #platonic stobin #my writing #ficlet #dom's tumblr writing

[hastalavistabyebye]

Was thinking about my strange pairing Ponds/Bacara and came to one decision.

They bonded over caf, in the Jedi Temple.

Maybe it was after the war, maybe it was during one of their leaves where they were both on Triple Zero and had sleep in the temple under the suggestion of their respective generals.

Both woke up early. Bacara because he's just like that (being a marine means you don't (can't) need a lot of sleep). He was peacefully eating his breakfast and seeping his caf over a few dataforms when a very grumpy, bleary-eyed Ponds entered the mess. A commander Ponds that went straight for the attending Jedi and grumbled his way into asking for the biggest cup of caf they had. The Jedi was definitely used to it and chuckled at the jaw-dislocating yawn that punctuated the request, before fetching a youngling-made bowl as wide as Bacara's hand and painted in vibrant blotches of blue, purple and green. They filled it to the brim before handing it to the Lighting Commander with a jar of cream and a small bowl of sugar.

"Here you go, Commander."

Then, under Bacara's incredulous stare, Ponds proceed to carefully add the sweeteners in proportions way too important for it to not overflow from the cup. Once he seemed satisfied, he managed to chug down half of the caf in a few seconds.

"Thank you." He mumbled while offering the massive cup for a refile.

It was only then that Ponds left the counter to go sit down. His sleepy mind made him end up sitting in front of Bacara. It could have been because of the familiarity of a vod. It could also have been the call of the buttered toasts in the marine's plate. Toasts that Ponds didn't last time stealing to munch on, after a few more long sips of good caf.

They spent the rest of their breakfast in silent companionship.

#it soon turn into a routine for those two whenever they end up in a situation where they can share breakfast #bacara didn't complain about the toasts because he still had his scrambled eggs anyway #and ponds absent sleepy gaze made him look like he needed it more #sw #tcw #writing #ponds/bacara #commander ponds #commander bacara #i still dont know what this is #but i like it xD #cloneshipping #hi tumblr void #ficlet #pondscara cinematic universe

[im-a-king-baby]

Hiii i loved ELYN so much.

I was hoping for any other tidbits/stories/scenes about Simon carrying the frog in the sock. i just wondered if it was like his comfort object or like the orange sweater etc. .That was one of my favorite scenes when Wille finds it

And/or “i wanted to wake up with you” i dont think i will ever forget that line.

💜 thank youuuu

Okay so I'm sorry this is so very late. Life has been a Lot 😅 hopefully folks are still interested in my ramblings!

<3 <S <3

"I wanted to wake up with you."

Fun fact: I almost cut this line. It was originally in the first draft where Simon never made the late-night-call that led everyone to Bjarstad and I was worried that after I'd made that change this line would put people off Simon, because at this point (in theory) Simon knows that Wilhelm had to get up because of what Simon did during the night so it's a bit unfair to Wilhelm. But then I figured Simon's in withdrawal, he's going to be resentful and frustrated and just because intellectually he knows it's his fault that doesn't mean he's not still having those feelings.

As far as the wanting goes, Simon is just dragging himself through life at the moment. He had this whole spiral of failing to sleep, eventually managed it by basically promising himself a future where he'd wake up and things would still be like they were when they went to bed, just the two of them avoiding the world. Plus withdrawal emotions, plus Candace showing up, the bubble is fully burst and this line is Simon tired and resentful and having to face it.

In case you're interested in how things change in editing, this is the first draft version of this moment (in this version Candace showed up basically the moment the queen left which would have been one hell of a coincidence).

“People always leave before I wake up. Maybe they think I’ll be less fun sober, probably they’re right.” “I wasn’t trying to leave you.” “Okay.” It’s the same tone of voice, accepting but not believing. “Are you going back to Stockholm with her?” He pushes himself off the wall, crossing into the kitchen and opening cupboards at random. It’s Friday morning. Wilhelm is due on TV at six PM. He’s supposed to be attending multiple prep meetings, seeing a stylish and a make-up artist before that. Minou is no doubt already at full panic stations. “I can stay if you want me to.” He stands up as Simon emerges from a cupboard with a half full bottle of vodka. “I can help you look for a lawyer. Or we could go for a walk.” Simon unscrews the bottle. “If you want to go, you can go.” The roar of an engine surges outside. Simon is closer to the window, and Wilhelm sees the moment his face shuts down, the inevitability of it, a moment before he sees Candace emerge from a sleek white car. “I want to be here for you. If you’ll let me,” Wilhelm says, picking at a conversation that’s already died as Simon braces his shoulders like a solider going into battle and tilts the bottle up to take three long swallows. Candace raps three times on the door. “Simme! Open this door right the fuck now.” Simon looks at Wilhelm over the bottle. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

x🐸🐸🐸x THE FROG x🐸🐸🐸x

After six hours of meetings a car comes to drive him to the hotel. Rachel tells him to order whatever he likes from room service and to be in the lobby for seven thirty the next morning and then he’s letting himself into a luxury hotel room. There’s a lounge, a bedroom, a bathroom with a full size bath and a separate shower with six different heads.

He takes the frog out of his bag and places it on the bedside table overlooking the pillow then pulls out his phone. He’d messaged Wilhelm when he arrived (Landed! Hopefully someone comes to pick me up!) and now he sees Wilhelm has texted three times since.

Good luck! La doesnt know whats hit it! Everything okay? I’m awake, no plans today whenever you want to call

Simon texts back: Sorry! Dumped straight into meetings all day. I’m kind of exhausted, can we do tomorrow?

Wilhelm: Of course! Jet lags a bitch. Sleep well, I love you xxx

Simon picks up the menu off the side but his stomach is still protesting the bagel it thinks it had in the middle of the night and he kicks off his trainers and his jeans and crawls into the mega bed.

After a moment, he reaches over and picks up the frog again, runs his thumb across the nose, and settles back down with it’s weight firm in his palm as he types: Love you toox

x🐸x

Candace tells him they’re going to Sweden in the same matter-of-fact voice she uses to tell him anything. The label won’t approve a third single. We have to crowdfund plane tickets. We can’t afford to keep the whole band, who can you live without? I’ve booked us a week in Stockholm and put word out to local news sites and venues, we’ll be taking the buses up there after Paris.

Simon reaches for his backpack on instinct, touches the front pocket where Wilhelm’s frog has been nestled since they left L.A. “Should I… I should call Wilhelm, right? Let him know?”

Candace glances at him over her iPad. “Sure,” she says. “Let me know if you need me to put him on the List.”

Simon leaves the meeting, twisting his phone over and over between his hands. They’re going to Sweden. For the first time since he flew out and it’s - he glances at his phone again - it’s September.

Fuck, it’s September. It’s September 2024, somehow. It’s been over a year since he left Sweden, since he last saw Wilhelm. He scrolls through the contacts on his phone but Wilhelm isn’t in there, of course Wilhelm isn’t in there, Simon got this phone back in L.A. and he hadn’t had time to transfer anything across. That had been last Christmas. Ten months ago and god, where had that time gone?

He could ask Candace to get Wilhelm’s number. That’s what she does, she sorts things. Wilhelm doesn’t answer the phone to unknown numbers. Obviously. But Simon could write a text or something. Hi, this is Simon. I know you said there was no way we could make it work because I was so busy all the time but I’m going to be in Sweden and I’ll still be busy all the time and you’re probably off in the army somewhere but -

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. There is no ‘but’, they don’t work and that has always been abundantly clear.

He unzips his backpack and the frog is there in it’s tiny golden crown, glitter still clinging to the paint because glitter is a bitch that can never be removed.

There’s a scratch across it’s nose, deep enough that Simon’s nail can catch against it. Hi Wilhelm, this is Simon, I know we haven’t talked for a while but I need to give you your frog back because you trusted me to keep one thing safe and I couldn’t even -

He scrolls back up his contacts to Guitar, Kevan and types: drinks?

His suitcase is at the edge of the room, surrounded by a scattering of costume pieces and toiletries. He digs through chains and glitter to find a pair of probably-clean socks and tucks the frog inside, where it’ll be safe.

His phone buzzes: party in 267

He just needs something to calm his nerves, to settle his stomach.

He’ll ask Candace to get the number tomorrow. Or, there’s a show tomorrow, next time he has a free minute.

He tucks the bundle down into the case and heads out of the room.

x🐸x

His case is still on the floor of his bedroom half full from tour. Technically he’s been back in L.A. for two months but unpacking was one of those ‘I’ll do it later’ things that has now somehow come full circle. He tugs out clothes, nudging them into the ever growing laundry for the cleaners to pick up once he’s gone.

His hand finds something solid and he pulls it out. Socks, with something inside, and his throat catches as he remembers September, Sweden. Everyone talking to him in Swedish, fans screaming 'jag älskar dig!' like it wasn’t… like…

Candace promised the next tour could skip it. And if he’s not going to Sweden, he can’t give the frog back, so there’s no point having it. He doesn’t need it.

He folds the socks around it a little tighter, stands up to push it into the back of his sock drawer, underneath everything else. It’ll be safer there.

Two days later the taxi is honking it’s horn outside as he runs back into the room, upends the whole drawer on the floor and grabs the wrapped bundle, shoving it into his pocket on his way out the door.

x🐸x

There’s a fresh bruise forming on his collarbone, a faded one on the side of his neck, a man whose name he doesn’t know snoring face down on the cheap polyester pillows.

He runs his thumb back and forth across the nose of the tiny frog statue, lets his head thump back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling and count down the hours until dawn.

#elyn fic #elyn ficlet #commentary meme #I got a new job and I moved house and I have not done any writing in weeks #but hopefully I'll be more settled soon #tw: alcohol #tw: addiction #classic angst #what I learned from the wake up line is that I should never assume people will think bad things about simon #he is a precious angel

[pix-writes]

I'm not sure if this will make it into a Sherlock Holmes fic I'm writing or not, if I'm honest probably not - BUT I'm incapable of keeping something so funny (to me) by myself! so here is the excerpt that made me giggle at my drafts today:

Holmes’ out-of-context conversation starters had become something I expected, though they still often surprised me, I was no longer bewildered or startled by them, as I had been when we first started our acquaintance. My friend’s mind could drift anywhere and alight on the most minute and intricate of matters, which would escape the notice of the general population. Though, I can hardly put into words my astonishment of what his opening words were when I entered 221B that afternoon. “Bees, Watson!” “Bees?” “Yes, bees. I have become intrigued by their structures, Watson – it is most fascinatingly detailed, and I must gather more data on the subject.” Holmes stood by the window, face turned at an angle, for the benefit of addressing me whilst still being able to watch the passers-by below, pale afternoon light highlighting his profile. As I set down my things and settled into my chair, he stayed there, pensive, I observed, given that his hands were steepled under his chin. “Is this for a case?” I asked, wondering if there were connections I had not yet seen.

#sherlock holmes fanfiction #ficlet #acd holmes #granada holmes #acd sherlock holmes #pix-writing #maybe its the neurodivergence but i cannot resist non-sequiturs or something adjacent to that at least in conversations i write #its a habit i'm trying to break lol #our dear watson can just about keep up and for that he deserves great merit #this is a draft I wrote up but I have the feeling it won't make itself into a story anytime soon #but I can't simply leave it to languish in my drafts #either so - here u go

[lunar-insanity]

I 100% the gaaaaame

Galdera is still a biiiiiitch

What is it with Gravell and Crackridge having spooky stuff going oooooon!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT WAS KING ALFRED-

#octopath traveler 2 #octopath spoilers #how did this man manage to trip himself into Solistia #I'm gonna write a ficlet about my whole experience with this super boss #s'gonna go with the Chronicler stories i'm thinkin up. #Anyway get ready for me to ramble soon about what I'm calling Octopath Intertwined which are my own travelers

[justnerdystuffs]

So. Imagine post reunion Hob is in the Dreaming library being shown around by Dream. We've been there, right? And thennnnnn. They run into the famous inhabitant of the Dreaming, and contributor to the library, William Shaxberd.

And Hob, who spent CENTURIES trying to get Dream's attention, approval, a measure of affection, hell even just his NAME. Hob, who was stood up in 1589 for this prick who clearly got some favour that Hob didn't deserve....

Who thought he was over his grudge against Shaxberd, he truly did, the man was long dead, we aren't jealous of the dead, turns to Dream, looks him in the eyes and just asks.

'Et tu, brute?'

#Ehm #Happy soon to be Ides of March #this is not my fault #dreamling #Listen I 100% believe that Hob consumed Shakespeare's media at some point because inavoidable really #Also he had a point in doing so to learn about the Stranger #And after this they totally end up having a long proper discussion about why Hob feels so hurt and betrayed by this #And why Dream actually left that night which just leaves them a lot more understanding of each other #Or do they??? #Damn it now I might write thid #Or at least a ficlet #We'll see #Feel free!!!

[redstone-sun]

its my birthday today so lemme tell yall: writing the hermits in the world of control (2019) is SO fucking fun. holy shit i love it. however i will probably not end up posting any of it bc most of it is gratuitous mumbo suffering(expected) and ahti cameos(surprising). also control!zed has asthma and i dont really have an explanation for why

#i fucking love ahti control #wish i knew finnish so i could write him better #so far i have maybeeeee six pages of how different hermits deal with the hiss? its fun #idk. its just for fun so far #something to wind down after finishing salt & honey after A WHOLE FUCKING YEAR AND A HALF #i need something to mess around w to a bit with no pressure #however. u do need to also understand i spent a half an hour researching year-appropriate mres so. #i think my brain's just broken #if anybody wants to know more i mean ill gladly talk about it #and i might post some of it SOMEday #but idk not any time soon #i cant edit anything rn and i cant just toss together a ficlet that fits in a tumblr post and release it into the wild #idk i just dont work like that #anyway whoever reads this far in the tags deserves a prize

[devondespresso]

Last Line Tag Game!!

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence

tagged by @stobinesque 💕 I finally have a little piece from my latest adventure: a Nancy pov trauma drabble ft. post s1 stancy (longer than one sentence technically cause the sentences are short because dialogue)

“Okay, that’s fine. Never again, if you need that."

(is that the title mixed in somewhere in the line?? 👀 thats crazyyy i wonder which two words it is 🤔)

tagging only 9 people this time (no pressure ofc 💕)(sorry if if i tagged you after you've already done it i haven't been online all day)(double sorry if you're not a writer and i mixed up who my writer and nonwriter mutuals are): @spoookysix @blushweddinggowns @gleek4twd @wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart @eriquin @byler-alarmist @marvel-ous-m @unclewaynemunson @itswhatyougive

#tag game #also in honor of actually writing something not explicitly included in my steve henderson au im making new tags for my writing! #devon's writing rambles #is for stuff like this thats not the actual fic but is about it bc teasing content and rambling about wips is one of my favorite pasttimes #the other one will be 'devon's writings' (not tagged here yet) and will be just for actual chapters/works posted #and that'll exist soon with the first fic in that being said nancy pov ficlet #i should make a pinned post for this shit actually #ill do that soon

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hey!

This is something that's been rolling around in my head for a while, and I'm wondering if you or any of your followers have experience with getting back into writing after illness.

I've been chronically ill for a long time. My symptoms vary a lot depending on external circumstances. From about 2019-2021 or so, I was updating an AU about once a month and having an absolute blast with it...then my health hit a stumbling block. Then it hit another, and another.

I'm now at a point where the stumbling blocks don't seem to be going away anytime soon. I'm starting to feel the mental health effects of not having the spoons to work writing into my day.

I spent the past couple years trying to let myself lie fallow and be kind with my brain when my body needs so much help. I'm at a point where even when I WANT to write, it feels like it's been so long I've almost forgotten how. I'm stalled on all my WIPs from that AU, but it doesn't feel like writer's block so much as it feels like writer's atrophy. I miss it terribly, but I'm having a lot of trouble getting back on my feet.

Thank you for everything you've given our community over the years! 💜💜

*hugs* that's a rough spot to be in, and I hope that we can offer you some ways to get out of it. I'll offer some suggestions from my own experience with a change in health status, but I'm really hopeful that the rest of the blog have some tips to share as well.

Don't hold yourself up to your previous standards. Your abilities have changed, and you should take that into account. If you used to be able to write for 2 hours and now you can only manage 10 minutes, don't see that as a failure. 10 minutes is now your success point. If you used to be able to manage 100K stories with intricate plots and now you find it a challenge to write a straightforward oneshot? Then finishing that oneshot is an accomplishment to be proud of.

If the way you used to do things doesn't work, don't keep trying to do them that way. If you used to type onto a laptop but now staring at the screen makes you feel exhausted? Try dictating into your phone and using speech to text to transcribe it. Then you can go through and edit what's already there. If you used to write at a desk but now sitting up for long periods wears you out? Try tapping it out on your phone in bed. You can't focus for long periods the way that you used to? Turn on the TV and write during commercial breaks.

Don't try to pick up right where you left off. You need to get yourself back in writing shape before you can take on a story that's already halfway written. Those WIPs will still be there, even if you start off with a ficlet or a missing moment or a post-episode coda etc. Start off small. Use ideas or plots that are easier for you to write. Get back into the swing of it before you try to tackle a big project again.

As you try to write something and you find yourself unable to, take a moment and try to identify what the hard part is. Are you having trouble finding words? Are you in an uncomfortable position? Is the device you're using annoying you or difficult to work with? For each problem you can identify, see if you can find an accommodation for it - and look to see if other people have had to accommodate the same issue before you. It's very likely that they have.

I'll stop here and let the spoonies share their thoughts in the notes. I look forward to picking up some advice for myself too ❤️

You can find this question and answer over on Dreamwidth as well, if you'd like to join the conversation over there.

#asks and answers

[amhrosina]

Ok what about Franks reaction when you come home crying? Idk why, could be anything at all. I’m just imagining Frank excited for you to get home, only for you to come through the door with tear tracks down your face

a/n: ooooooooooo yes! i made frank so soft here i think i need comfort lmfao not quite as angsty as i wanted, but i like how it ended up! also, said this would be a drabble, ended up writing a 1.2k ficlet sooooo enjoy!

warnings: implied violence, implied smut at end, reader gets mugged (off page), f!reader, no use of y/n, frank comforting reader, reader gets a little weepy

masterlist // join my taglist

You never thought you’d reach this point, but you were praying Frank hadn’t made it home from work yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him - you always wanted to see him - but the sight of your swollen, tear-filled eyes would probably send him into a frenzy, and really, all you wanted to do was curl up in his lap and forget about the entire encounter that had left you in tears. 

Luck, it seemed, was not on your side, however, because as soon as you stepped into your apartment, Frank’s overwhelming presence was immediately apparent to you. His work boots, neatly lined next to the door, were in the place he always left them when they were too dirty to store in your shared closet. His coat, the one he’d insisted he didn’t need but wore every single day in the winter, was hung in the corner, next to the empty hook that normally held your jacket, scarf, and hat. The most obvious indicator, though, was the irregular clatter of dishes being moved around, used, and discarded in the kitchen.

“Sweetheart?” He called, eagerness clear in his voice. “That you?”

Shit. Suddenly, the guilt of praying he wasn’t home moments before threatened to consume you.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice was closer now, much closer, and you hurriedly swiped the tears away from your cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice your blotchy cheeks, or the fact that your eyelids were more swollen than you’d ever seen them. You cleared your throat and tried your best to sound normal.

“Hey, Frankie.”

You turned around to meet him, smiling in an attempt to hide your sorrow, and suddenly felt extremely stupid. Frank wasn’t an idiot, and the look on his face when you finally looked at him told you he was seeing right through the facade. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shrugged, blinking away the fresh wave of tears building in your lash line.

“Did someone hurt you?” 

His voice was oddly calm, but there was a bite in his tone that he was clearly trying to suppress. 

“No.” You shook your head, stepping closer to him. “I’m fine.”

He blinked down at you, cupping your damp cheeks in his warm palms.

“You’re lying to me. Why are you lying to me, sweetheart?” 

“I’m not.” You denied instantly, resolve growing weaker with every pass of his thumb over your cheekbones. He was silent for a moment, eyeing your quivering bottom lip. He took in your appearance, the word ‘disheveled’ coming to mind as he looked you over, before finally pinpointing what was missing from your usual attire.

“Where’s your bag?” He queried, tilting his head slightly. 

You huffed, finally allowing the tears to spill onto your cheeks. “I was on the subway and this asshole was crowding me when I got off and before I could even try and get away from him, he took off with my bag.”

“Okay, shh shh shh shh, baby. It’s okay.” 

You were, embarrassingly, blubbering at this point. You hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet. 

“The necklace you got me for Christmas was in there, Frank.” You sobbed, trying not to think too hard about the lost gift. It had been your most prized possession since the moment you’d put it on. Until this morning, you’d never taken it off. You cursed yourself for thinking it would be safe in your bag. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, honey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not mad, baby. Don’t apologize.” Frank cooed, pressing gentle kisses across your face. He was all too aware of how much that necklace meant to you. “I’m going to make a call, okay?”

“You think you can get it back?” You knitted your brows together in confusion. “I didn’t even get a good look at his face. I have no idea who he is.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He pulled you into his chest and began dialing his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” You questioned further, nuzzling into his warmth.

“Lieberman. If anyone can find the guy, it’s him.”

You listened as Frank relayed the information to Micro, occasionally giving him additional information. Frank’s free hand cupped the back of your head, absent-mindedly running his fingers along the nape of your neck while Micro searched through camera footage and DMV records. You knew the second they’d figured out who did it, so tuned into Frank’s body that you physically felt the tension build in his shoulders. 

“You gonna kill him?” You asked, eyes focused on Frank's jaw, which hadn’t unclenched since his conversation with Micro.

“I should.” He mumbled, eyeing your reaction carefully. “He could’ve hurt you.”

“He didn’t, though.” You shrugged, “Maybe he needed food or something.”

Frank’s eyes softened. “Are you really trying to find the good in the man who stole your favorite thing from you?” 

“Maybe.” You shrugged again, grinning when Frank huffed in annoyance. 

“You’re too nice.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Good thing I’m not.”

“I thought you’d be more mad.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m pissed that he even looked at you.” His jaw clenched impossibly harder. “But I’m just glad you’re safe. If he’d hurt you, though…,” he trailed off, shaking his head, “I don’t know what I’d do. Something illegal. That’s a given.”

You nodded, understanding his desire to protect you. If the roles were reversed, you’d do the same. You sniffed, eyes flicking to the kitchen, where something was definitely burning.

“What were you cooking before I came home?”

Frank stiffened before taking off toward the kitchen. “Holy shit, I forgot I had something in the oven.”

You giggled and followed him through the apartment, the entire encounter on the subway a distant memory already. Frank would take care of it. He always did.

Later, hours after falling asleep on Frank’s chest, the distinct sound of your fire escape window closing woke you from your slumber. Frank was no longer beneath you, and hadn’t been for some time you realized, sliding your fingers over the cool sheets where he’d been earlier.

“Frankie?” You softly called, slightly lifting your head from the pillow.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He gently crawled into bed, hovering over your still mostly-asleep figure and kissing the tip of your nose. “I have something for you.”

He lifted his arm, and you nearly shrieked when you realized what was dangling from between his swollen and slightly bruised fingers.

“You found it?” You gasped.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” He smiled, kissing you again.

“Frank Castle, you absolute fucking gentleman.”

He chuckled at your crude language. “That’s high praise coming from a princess like you.”

You smiled, kissing him deeper. He groaned when you slid your tongue into his mouth. 

“Let me show you how grateful I am.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“Baby, you won’t hear any complaints from me. Your wish is my command, princess.”

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @ostricx @horrorflix @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @fxlsealarm @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @ginnysculture @ryebreadsworld @laaundromat @coacaiyne @niki-is-a-thing @deactivating-this-blog @bxmaaa @kentdreamingspam

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle fluff #frank castle angst #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #the punisher angst #the punisher fluff #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal x you #daredevil #nmcu #angst #drabble requests #amhrosina

[kinq-sleazee]

ok ok , so i don’t want to write a full blown structured ficlet with all the bells and whistles so can we maybe just chat a bit about poly krbk tings?

E. Kirishima X K. Bakugo X Reader

TW! MDNI - Poly , Aged Up, poor writing, seggs

Imagine being best friends with KRBK and just inserting yourself into their lives as a sort of “platonic” third until it’s not really platonic anymore.

Like these two men love you and respect your friendship but the irrepressible attraction between the three of you is just getting too hard to ignore. Especially after a night out at the bar leads you back to their shared apartment.

And maybe the alcohol makes you a little bold and you make some silly little joke like , “let’s just fuck it out of our systems” but you soon quickly realize that you’re the only one laughing.

Between the two of them you never really stood a chance.

Katsuki holds your chin—thumb slowly pressing into your mouth while peering down at you with those fiery eyes. He looks bored almost. Only quirking a brow when you swallow around the digit and moan at the taste. Sweet. From his quirk , no doubt. He talks down to you. As if admonishing a pet. Calls you names. Whore. Slut. Claims that you’ve been planning this all along—secretly waiting for the day to choke on his cock. “That’s all you are. A hole”. At this point he’s pushed three fingers in your mouth. Slowly fucking into your throat while saliva runs down his arm. “I wish you could see yourself, cupcake. S’fucking pathetic how desperate you look”. You want him so bad right now. It’s embarrassing, so you can’t help the tear that falls. “Fuck— you cryin’ , cupcake? So damn cute. Want ya to cry sum more. Fuck that little kitty so hard… turn ya into a poundcake.

Eijiro is nicer than his lover, at least it seems that way at first. He holds you against his front, you can feel his erection pressing into your back. Kissing from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. Bite marks and bruises littering your skin. However, your focus is on the deft fingers skimming up your thighs , rising the fabric of your dress above your hips and running the pad of his finger over your clothed clit. You can feel him smile against your skin. He calls you beautiful. His angel. Perfection. All while fucking the fabric of your panties into your needy hole. “Think you were made for me, darling. Gonna feel so good wrapped around me. That’s what you want , yeah ? Wanna squeeze on daddy’s dick, baby girl ?”

It’s not nearly enough stimulation and you’re literally begging them for something. Anything. You need it at this point.

They oblige. Swiftly undressing you and positioning you in your hands and knees.

Eijiro rubs his meaty cockhead against your quivering hole. It’s big. Painfully so. You whine and attempt to move earning a sharp slap to your thigh. “Didn’t you ask for this, darling ? Why are you running ? Tryna disappoint me ?” And you’re overwhelmed. Chest heaving , eyes blurry and babbling apologies. The redhead hums in acknowledgment and pushes in fully with one powerful thrust.

Bakugo doesn’t really care to hear your cries so he shuts you up with his cock. With a hand buried in your hair he pistons in and out of your mouth, setting a brutal pace. He stops ever so often to let you breathe or spit in your mouth but then it’s right back to choking on his cock.

They use you for their pleasure this first time. Rutting into you carelessly, sloppily chasing their orgasms. Of course they make you cum— Eijiro rubbing your clit and Katsuki pinching your nipples — but it lacks finesse.

When the post-nut clarity settles their able to really tend to your needs. Katsuki settles between your legs, whispering sweet praises to your “pretty little pussy” then running the flat of his tongue through your cum coated folds. Eijiro joins him, drinking up his own spend while sucking on your pleasure point and massaging Bakugo’s tongue with his own.

You’re dead tired and sensitive when you cum again but much to your despair and pleasure these two are just getting started.

#♛♚|the king speaks #mha bakugou #bakugou smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #mha bakugo smut #bakugo x black reader #eijiro kirishima smut #eijiro kirishima #mha kirishima #kirishima smut #kirishima x bakugou #kirishima x reader #kiribaku #krbk x reader #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku x black reader

[passportclown]

heyyy I saw that you write for Transformers.. you didnt say which transformers though so Ill assume all? just ignore this if not.

could you write something for G1 Soundwave and Starscream both liking the same human reader? headcanons pls

Oh hi!! Yes, I write for all Transformers. I haven't watched them all but for any request I'd research the specific characters to write them as accurate as possible.

You didn't specify if you wanted angsty, lighthearted, etc.. so I'll go with G1 goofiness mixed with my own style. Nor did you specify romantic or platonic. But I think it's Romantic? I couldn't tell if the reader was into them both as well.. so I tried my own approach! If this isn't right, re-send an ask (if you want)! o.o Headcanons below!

Warnings: Kidnapping (but it's not taken too seriously) , slight ignorance towards human comfort and physical limitations , slightly forced relationship but it's ambiguous as to whether it's platonic yearning or romantic yearning , maybe slight yandere?? my kofi if you feel like donating

Soundwave:

Well, you must have done something to get this con's attention. But now you've got it, and you're very much unlikely to lose it.

Soundwave likes to think he's calm and smart.

He's got his cassettes, he's got his position, he's got Lord Megatron.. everything's good.

He never assumed that he'd want a human as well.

And yet, he does.

He treats it as a simple desire to ignore. Like how humans crave chocolate but ignore it and get salad instead.

Well, at least, that's what he thought humans did. He soon found out that it's hard to ignore such cravings.

He couldn't stop thinking of you. So, he'd send out Ravage or Lazerbeak to watch you. Just so he could understand his strange desire further.

It didn't make sense, but he wanted you.

He watched, and admired the little things about you. But then.. one of his Cassettes informed him that Starscream was watching you as well.

He had even taken you in the recent fight..

Soundwave couldn't have that.

Starscream:

You must be quite the organic for Starscream of all Decepticons to like you.

Of course, he'd ignore his feelings at first. Or assume it's his clearly genius processor formatting some sort of plan involving an organic squishy.

But alas, he truly likes you.

Once he realizes his feelings, he denies them insistently. No way does he like a human! They're small, weak, easily crushed but..

Also cute.

He's a very rash individual. What he wants, he gets.

And he wants you.

He doesn't immediately jump into it, of course.

That'd be desperate.

He ignores the stares he gets from others, particularly Soundwave, convincing himself it was paranoia. He was being very careful!

No, he watches.. and waits..

And at the perfect moment, with you struggling to run in the midst of a Decepticon attack..

Well, who would notice if he just hid you in his cockpit?

Small ficlet:

Starscream got you to stop struggling from his affection.

Now you sat still in one hand as the other roughly pet you. He didn't quite have the hang of it, almost pulling out your hair and tugging at your clothes. His metallic hand would pat your head, then roughly slide down and grip your body. Over and over, in a repetitive motion.

He had a nasty grin, you couldn't quite tell what he was feeling but he was certainly pleased.

It's not that he's unattractive or anything, for a giant alien robot.. he is! But you were trying to avoid getting stepped on and he shoved you in a cramped space, shook you around as he walked, jostled you as he flew, and now he's roughly petting you.

Then.. Starscream jolts as the door opens.

"Starscream: Explain" A more robotic voice speaks, though it sounds as if it's accompanied by some sort of auto-tune. He really does speak like a robot constantly making a report. The Third in Command of the Decepticons, Soundwave. It's impossible to tell with his mask, but you suspect he's displeased.

"Wh- Soundwave! Why didn't you knock!? I am your superior-" Starscream yelps when Soundwave slams his hand against the wall, leaning over Starscream and prying into his mind.

There's a brief moment of absolute tension. Then Soundwave pulls back, and stares down at you. He pries you from Starscream's tight grip, attempting to be as gentle as possible. Starscream grunts, and glares at Soundwave.

"..I presume you'll be reporting this incident to Megatron and getting rid of the fleshy?" Starscream asks with a snarl, trying to pretend you mean much less to him than you actually do.

But Soundwave got enough of a read of his emotions from that peek into his mind.

"Soundwave: Might. Unless.." Soundwave continues, then leans forward once more and dangles you in front of Starscream like bait.

It works.

"Unless what?!" Starscream squawks, unable to keep up his uncaring and confident facade for more than a moment.

Soundwave stares, but not at Starscream this time.

At you.

Even you can tell through his red visor, seeing a brief flicker of light, that he's staring right at you.

"Starscream: Will share human with Soundwave."

-

That was the start of an odd situation.

Starscream didn't know as much about taking care of humans as he thought he did.

Soundwave got you a more comfortable place to rest, food, water, everything you need.

Of course, neither Decepticon let you leave.

They would routinely swap you between their respective spaces.

Starscream hated it, and Soundwave tolerated it.

But if Soundwave just took you, Starscream would make trouble.

And if Starscream kept you, Soundwave would report him.

So they're at an impasse.

And you're in the middle.

It's not all bad.

You think in some.. weird alien robot way that they both love you?

Maybe not exactly romantically, but close enough that they both want to keep and hold you.

They listen to you well enough, as long as you use honeyed words with Starscream and speak more pragmatically with Soundwave.

It's a decent exchange for them, and a new but tolerable change for you.

You might be a pet, or maybe some odd flavor of partner, maybe just a friend. It's hard to tell. But at least you don't pay rent.

I really hope you liked this. 🥺

#Transformers x Reader #x Reader #Starscream x Reader #Starscream #Soundwave x Reader #Soundwave #G1 Transformers #Gender Neutral Reader #Passport Writes #Transformers #maccadams #can be seen as #platonic #romantic #or ambiguous #ambiguous yandere #I don't know if this counts as it..

[whiskersz]

Ok yay someone who writes for husk!

So could you(if you don't wanna that's fine)

Do an x reader for husk where the reader works at the bar with him

I'm so new to the fandom, people don't write for him? Don't worry, I'm here to save the day!

This is kind of a ficlet, I could write a sequel if anyone is interested, left it somewhat open ended.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Actions speak louder

Give a beer glass a scrub, rinse, pass it to Husk so he can dry it up and then repeat; check the counter for stray stains, then wipe it down with a cloth dampened with dish soap and warm water in case there’s any; mix the occasional cocktail, wishing you’d be the one downing it on some days.

This is how most of your time is spent at the Hotel, working behind the counter of the bar with grumpy Husk, filling your days with repetitive tasks you were used to even before ending up in Hell. You’re comfortable here, some might even say it’s your own element.

You remember what it was like during your life, working at the bar, and the only word worthy of describing the experience would be ‘boring’. Chaotic on some particular days, yes, but it was mostly dull as your co-workers were a bit too accustomed to leaving all the hard work to you.

At the Hotel though, you find it almost therapeutic. Not too many residents, and you get along with the few that are there, plus it means no constant drink making nor cleaning; although the personality of your only co-worker is what you find most pleasing about this job.

There’s no use for useless small talk between the two of you, you’ve grown accustomed to each other enough that silence is well accepted during most of the day, and especially at night. It’s not rare for both of you to stay up late, anxiously waiting for the return of one of the other residents of the building, Angel Dust.

There’s no hiding that he struggles a lot, and you and Husk can do nothing but be there for him, unfortunately.

But once even he’s off to bed, you can finally give the bar one last quick clean and close it up together. And so again, give Angel’s glass a scrub, rinse, and then pass it to Husk so he can dry it up and put it away; he takes up the task of checking for stains on the counter and cleaning them up, telling you to hurry up and go to sleep.

You refuse, and say you need to tidy up the glasses one last time, something looks out of order.

It’s not true though, but you can’t simply say you’re waiting for him, surely that would make things between you a little awkward.

Which is why you’re surprised when you feel a light pressure on your back; Husk is shorter than you, shorter than most at the Hotel actually, and there seems to be nobody else around, so the only possible explanation for the pressure you’re feeling in the middle of your back is, well, your co-worker.

Relaxing into his touch you let out a soft sigh;

“Turning into a softie?” you say it mostly to cover up your shyness, glad he’s facing your back so he’s unable to see the tint of your cheeks.

“Shut up.” He retorts, voice low and tired.

The dim lights of the bar are soon after turned off, and a slow, drowsy kiss is shared on the top of the stairs leading to the various rooms of the Hotel. You and Husk depart for the night, both excited to scrub, rinse and repeat with each other tomorrow, though with newfound unanswered questions this time.

#husk x reader #husker x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #husk hazbin hotel #husker hazbin hotel