#bit i love these little ficlets too

[drbtinglecannon]

Keston John describing Darius' orderly tendencies as "precision" was cute not just as a distinct word choice to describe it, but also Darius himself would absolutely refer to it like that

Like, imagine after Hunter moves in and in Hunter's own habits he immediately cleans dishes after using them, but at first (and maybe even intentionally after a while) it results in light-hearted bickering if something is put out of place.

--

The soft clinging of utensils jostling as the drawer opens is the only sound before --

"That's not where that goes, Bookworm," Darius calls from the living room.

Hunter rolls his eyes. The first few nights he found Darius' hyper attention to detail intimidating, now it's simply a mild annoyance. Even after all these weeks he still has no idea how Darius can tell if a single thing in his precious kitchen is placed in the wrong spot without even being present to witness it.

Living with Darius' neuroses has its benefits though.

Namely, he can be annoying back with only amusement as the end result.

Hunter pats Flapjack's head as a warning to not startle his companion, then throws a hand out to grab at a random cabinet door and toss it open as loudly as possible without damaging anything.

The following sigh brings a smirk to his face.

Hunter leans against the counter with his arms crossed as he waits the half minute for Darius to stroll around the corner into the kitchen. His guardian crosses his own arms and nods in Hunter's direction. "Is this how Mrs. Noceda kept her kitchen? Storing a ladle in the same cabinet as the mugs?"

"Yep," Hunter says with an exaggerated 'pop' at the end. He ignores the disagreeing trill next to his ear.

"How quaint," Darius drawls, then points to the swirling purple ceramic vase on the counter currently holding a few other large utensils. "The ladle goes there, exactly where you grabbed it from."

"Yeaaah, I was thinking it looks better in the cabinet."

"No."

"In fact, I think the entire kitchen could stand to be rearranged." Hunter pushes off the counter to look around fully, making a big show of hemming and hawing over specific details. "Such as, why are the knives in a block on the counter where anyone can reach them? I think they should go in the drawer thing under the oven. And all of the pots and pans should always be stacked on the stovetop, saves time from having to pull one out or put them away."

"Oh my Titan..."

"I also don't think there's a need to put glasses on one shelf and mugs on another, I mean they're all cups, what's the difference?"

Darius brings a hand to his temple. "Stop."

"Actually! Now that I think of it, why can't spoons, forks, and butter knives all be stacked in the same slots in the tray together? They don't need to be separated!"

Hunter finally turns to look at Darius and barely holds back from laughing at the utterly affronted expression he's met with.

"You're a heathen, get out of my kitchen."

"Eber would agree with me."

"Eber thinks piles of leaves and sticks make an adequate bed, his opinion on how my kitchen is arranged means nothing."

Hunter holds up his hands, careful not to jostle Flapjack too much in his excitement. "I'm just saying, maybe it's ok to put the ladle in the cabinet with the mugs."

"Get out," Darius points towards the stairs. "Go to your room and think about what you said."

"Oh no, not my room, where all my books and my scroll are!" Hunter clutches his chest with one hand and throws his other against his forehead. "Whatever will I do!"

"You'll stop trying to destroy my kitchen, that's what."

Hunter walks past Darius out of the kitchen and towards the staircase with Flapjack jumping from his shoulder to fly closely behind him. After a few steps, he leans down to yell, "I'm telling my team about your ridiculous neatfreak standards again!"

"It's called precision! I am being precise about how things are arranged in my home, like any rational person!"

"Uh-huh, sure!" Hunter calls out. He can hear the grumbling from downstairs all the way until he reaches his bedroom door, and only once he's closed the door behind him does he start laughing.

#toh #darius deamonne #toh hunter #i totally did not mean to write a ficlet but here we are. i might do another of darius w eber & raine over this same word choice #anyway totally subscribe to hunter gets adopted by darius & eber lives there too but i wrote this as earlier in their dynamic post canon #i think part of being comfortable & loving others is being annoying & being annoyed & i think hunter has earned the right to be a bit of #a brat w no real consequences yknow. ANYWAY wish keston got more darius specific questions but i still loved the bits he did get #the owl house #my writing #tinglecannon writing #oh also i decided post canon darius calls hunter 'bookworm' & 'birdie' as new nicknames cuz 'little prince' (while super cute) refs belos #fanfic #the owl house fic #toh flapjack #tc posts

[navybrat817]

Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

[luveline]

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you comfort miguel when he lashes out after a memory —a ficlet featuring begrudgingly lovesick miguel and a flirty spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw implied ptsd and accidental rough handling

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel can feel your heart-eyes on him. You're sitting behind him on the floor in his office, or, as you've fondly nick-named it this week, The Control Room, humming and making little origami flowers. 

So far you've made five, promising him without prompting a multi-coloured bouquet. He doesn't know why you've stopped (or why you started), but he doesn't have to turn around to confirm it. He can tell. You're shameless either way, proven when you say, "Hey, handsome?" 

He sighs with more annoyance than he feels. "What?"

"How'd you know I was talking to you?" you ask, with a laugh he loves and hates at once. Loves, because it's a really nice sound, and hates, because he knows how this goes. "I could've been talking to Margo." 

"She is handsome," Lyla chimes in. 

"Very much," you agree. 

Margo, alias Spider-Byte, looks up from her tablet screen to flash a smile. "Thanks, guys." 

"What did you want, then?" Miguel asks.

He's surrounded by girls who live to annoy him —they all laugh as though they know something he doesn't, and when he turns to glare at them they laugh more. Lyla zips out of his eyeline, disappearing from view with a sympathetic, "He's dumber than he looks." 

"Hurtful," Miguel says, turning back to his screen. "Why do I bother?" 

You stand up with your bundle of paper flowers crinkling in your hands and approach him. You're of normal height, while Miguel is of 'ridiculous' height (your word choice), and so you have trouble looking him in the eye when you stand close. You have more trouble keeping your distance, craning your neck all the way up with your rubber capped shoes to his spidersuit ones. 

"Can you lean down a bit, please?" you ask. 

Margo laughs, “Oh, here we go.”

Miguel has trouble saying no to you. And by trouble, he means he finds it impossible, and he hasn't done it in a while. He leans down very slightly, worried you're going to try and kiss him in front of the others. He's kissed you already (which he hates himself for, what a stupid thing to do) (but was a good kiss, as things go, your lips soft under his, his ardency undulating in the face of your little gasping sound when he'd bitten your lip, when he'd grasped at your side like you were slipping through his fingers), and you've kissed him. But never in front of other people.

Which isn't to say they don't know. Everyone definitely knows. They're just too scared or too kind to say. Or, like Lyla or Margo, they find it funny. 

Now in reach, you lift an origami flower to his ear and attempt to prop it there. He has a flash of a memory, a small hand by his face, the summer sun on his neck, and he can't deal with it. He grabs your wrist and pushes it away from him. 

Your eyes widen. You're not unused to his bad moods, but Miguel doesn't grab.

You look back, and he thinks it's because you're scared, and he wishes he could take it back straight away, but you're looking for Margo and Lyla. When you see they aren't there, you take his face into your empty hand and ask, "What's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. Sorry would be a good start, but his mouth is dry. He frowns down at you.

"I didn't mean to overstep," you say, uncharacteristically serious. 

"I didn't mean to grab you," he says. 

"I know. It wasn't so aggressive, anyways. I'm genetically enhanced, you know?" Your smile creases the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes. "I'll make you something else. A fan, for the heat, or a jumping frog." 

You turn and take a step away. Again, Miguel reaches for you, but when he takes your wrist this time it's with the kindness you deserve.

"I'm sorry, cariño," he says. 

He’s embarrassed for having pushed you away, even if he couldn’t control himself. All you were trying to do no doubt was make him happy. It's usually your main prerogative besides winding him up, and he can't find any ill will in a paper flower. 

"Cariño," you quote in a murmur. It doesn't take a second for you to return to your smiley, loving self. "That's definitely something nice." 

"It's affectionate." He doesn't explain more than that. 

You force your hand into his, twirling inward like a half-hearted dance. "I can tell," you say giddily, dropping your cheek into his chest. 

He rubs the back of your hand. Sorry, sorry, it says, each pass of his thumb against your skin. 

"Miguel," you say, in the lilting cadence of a girl with a favour to ask, "now you've ragged me around–" 

"Not what happened–" 

"–I was thinking maybe I could do something to you." You smile cheekily around your words. 

He sweeps his gaze across the office to make sure there's no one here with you both, or about to be. Complicated you may be, but Miguel knows you well. Better than he should. He spent a long time denying his feelings for you, aggrieved and guilty, and a longer amount of time resenting you for being so damned enchanting. Which wasn't your fault in reality —you're a weird creature, and you can be a little off-putting; it's Miguel's problem alone that he wants you as badly as he does. To feel your neat, teasing smirk under his lips. To have the line of your jaw against his hand as you whisper flirtation or laugh at your own awful jokes. 

To take your hip into his grasp and squeeze. 

There have been times where Miguel wanted to press you up against a wall and kiss you into silence, quieten your taunting teasing with a bite to match his bark. And there have been times where he wanted to rub the tense line between your shoulders, having caught you in a vulnerable moment, and promise that things will be better. 

He isn't making any more promises, not in this life, but he thinks that someone like you, who tries too hard to make people happy and sometimes wears two masks at once deserves to do whatever it is they want to do to people like him.

"Okay," he says quietly. His voice is rough as hewn stone. 

You have a pocket full of paper stars that crunch as you lean in. "I'm gonna kiss you, if you promise not not to freak out. Is that cool?" 

Okay, you deserve some softness, but Miguel would rather lead. Your hand falls to his chest, and his hands find your face. His fingers behind your ears, his thumbs aligned with your smile, he squeezes your cheeks in his hold gently, tilting your chin up, and up. The column of your throat is bared and begging to be scandalised. He can imagine it, the bruising his lips would leave behind like crescent moons and the pinprick crimson stars from his needling fangs if he were to only press down. 

"We'll compromise. I'll kiss you, and you'll let me apologise again." 

"I don't need you to say sorry again," you say softly. 

"Then I won't say it." 

The implication has heat rising to your cheeks. Your hand grabs uselessly at his suit as you close your eyes, and Miguel knows his cue. He leans down and kisses you, tender but a little rough, your lips soft and warm and eager as he encourages your head to one side. It feels like you try to say something but you don't move back, and so he doesn't either, kissing and kissing and kissing until he's sure he'll remember how it feel tonight, hours from now, when he's staring at a screen wishing you were haunting his office rather than in a doze in the girl's dormitory. 

"Miguel," you say, practically into his mouth. This time he pulls away, and you take a small step back so you don't have to crane your neck. "I, uh…" 

Miguel wipes the sheen from your bottom lip, not not listening but certainly not giving his full attention. He's hoping you'll let him kiss you again.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the flower," you say. 

His eyes lifted to yours. "It's not that. It's not you. Don't waste any time thinking about it, okay?" 

He pinches your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. You hold his eyes for a moment. 

"I don't really think," you say bashfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a hug he doesn't have time to reciprocate. 

"You think," he says, blinking as you retreat from him completely, waltzing back to your origami station on the floor. Your hips don't sway, but there's a movement to them he tracks. 

"About you, handsome? All the time." 

Miguel groans and turns back to his screens. Lyla appears silently, and sticks a finger into her mouth in a mock gag. 

"That's in poor taste," he says. 

"I would like to hand in my resignation." 

"You can't resign, Lyla. You're a hologram." 

She pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose and blinks out of view, refusing to speak to Miguel for the rest of the day outside of official Society business, and even then she's cranky. You fill the void of conversation with a mixture of nonsensical and merited suggestions, and by the time you leave for the night, his desk is decorated by a rainbow menagerie of paper animals, each one made with care. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! please consider reblogging if you have the time! <;3 if you have a request of this pairing or other miguel fics and want to share, im eager to see them!

my other miguel fics

#miguel and spidergirl reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara scenario

[steddiehyperfixation]

accidental eavesdropping (steddie ficlet)

based on this post by @imjust-that-shy. i hope i did this vision justice <3

The doors to the bathroom burst open, and - on some pure, inexplicable instinct and with nearly inhuman speed - Eddie darts back into the stall he'd just been about to come out of and leaps to perch on top of the toilet seat, crouched there like some sort of creature. 

He hears the sound of retching and the stench of vomit fills the air. He holds his breath, wrinkling his nose and trying to imagine what possible context could be behind Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley bursting in here together to puke their guts out. Eddie knows the two of them work together, he’s seen them sharing shifts at Scoops Ahoy when he's walked by. (Not that he often intentionally passes by the ice cream parlor and slows down just to catch a glimpse of Steve or anything… Although who could really blame him if he did? Like, come on, Steve in that uniform? Hello, sailor.) His mind is busy spinning stories of possible explanations, ranging from spoiled ice cream to sneaking alcohol and getting too drunk during their break. 

Eddie's leaning towards the 'drinking on the job' explanation, especially when the retching finally ceases and Robin says something about the room no longer spinning. Those little rebels, Eddie thinks approvingly.

“When’s the last time you, uh…peed your pants,” Steve is asking Robin now, in response to her telling him in a Russian accent to interrogate her. 

Eddie curls over his knees, tilting his head to try to peer through the gap between the stalls and the floor to put an image to his eavesdropping. Might as well, he’s kind of stuck here and there’s really not much else he can do right now. He can see Steve’s legs, one bent and the other stretched out in front of him, and Robin in the stall past him laying on the floor with her legs up against the stall wall as she answers, “Today…” 

“What?” Steve questions.

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” Robin says. 

Okay…what? Russian doctors and bone saws? Eddie’s now thoroughly intrigued, if a little (okay, a lot) confused. Maybe they’re talking about a movie they watched or something.

Steve’s legs shake with his laughter. “Oh my god.” 

“It was just a little bit, though.” Robin pinches her fingers together as she twists her body in Steve’s direction while he laughs again and mutters that whatever it is they took is still in her system. She pushes her feet off the stall and slides to sit against the opposite wall. Eddie can only see her legs now. “Okay, my turn. Have you…ever been in love?” 

Steve answers that he has, with Nancy, and makes a sound mimicking an explosion. Eddie remembers that, remembers seeing Steve and Nancy being all touchy and cute in the hallways at school while he was trying his damndest to convince himself that he absolutely definitely did not wish he was in Nancy’s place. It didn’t work very well. And it’s not working very well now either as Steve starts to go on about some new girl he likes now instead - some girl who’s funny and smart and can crack secret Russian codes (okay, seriously, what is it with these two and Russians?) and oh shit, he’s talking about Robin. 

Eddie very suddenly feels like he should not be here listening to this, eavesdropping on Steve confessing his feelings for someone. Not only is that, like, a private and personal thing, but also what if Robin likes him back and they start kissing or something right here in this bathroom where Eddie has to sit here and listen to it and that would just be horrible for him for so many reasons and- Eddie’s getting ahead of himself. Robin hasn’t even said anything yet, and her knees are pulled up to her chest and her voice shakes when she confirms she’s still alive after Steve asks if she’s OD’d there in the silence and she uncurls with a deep sigh. All signs that she doesn’t actually like Steve back. 

Eddie watches as Steve shifts and slides under the stall into Robin’s, and catches sight of the nasty bruise marring nearly half of Steve’s otherwise beautiful face as he does so. Now concern has been added to the list of emotions this eavesdropping experience has rollercoastered him through so far. The bruise looks fairly fresh and Eddie can’t help but wonder what the hell gave Steve a black eye like that and if he’s okay. 

After a brief spiral of concern for Steve’s face, Eddie tunes back into reality to find himself staring at Steve’s ass as Steve now sits with his back against the stall wall opposite Robin. Eddie blinks, expands his tunnel vision to include Steve’s lower back and Robin’s legs which are also visible beneath the gap in the stalls. 

“It’s not because I had a crush on you,” Robin is saying. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Mrs. Click?” Steve sounds confused.

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin clarifies. “I wanted her to look at me.”

Oh. Eddie should really not be listening to this. Robin is trying to come out to Steve, trying to share something deeply personal and vulnerable with him and only him, not knowing that she’s outing herself to an eavesdropping near-stranger as well. Eddie feels violating and intruding. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he found out someone he barely knew had been secretly listening in on him coming out - probably not great, probably terrified. This is something he shouldn’t know, not like this. 

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl,” Steve says, his tone unreadable, and Eddie’s heart nearly stops, sure his own anticipatory anxiety is likely only just a fraction of what Robin must be feeling right now. 

“Steve…” 

“Yeah?” A pause. “Oh,” Steve’s voice goes soft. “Oh… Holy shit.” 

“Yeah,” Robin sighs. Eddie can see her hands nervously rubbing at her shins. “Holy shit.” 

Steve is silent for a few painfully long moments. Eddie’s hands curl nervously around his own shins. Is Steve going to be homophobic? Should Eddie be worried for Robin now? 

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asks, trying to be light but Eddie can hear the anxiety in her voice. 

“No, I just, uh- just thinking,” Steve responds. 

“Okay…” Robin’s voice is barely audible. Eddie is holding his breath.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve says finally, “Tammy Thompson’s cute and all, but the only reason I never gave her the time of day was because I was too busy staring at Eddie Munson.” 

The aforementioned Eddie Munson releases the breath he’d been holding with an involuntary squeak and claps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them heard him over the sound of Robin shouting. “What?! Eddie Munson?! You liked Eddie Munson?” she squawks, voicing Eddie’s own stunned thoughts perfectly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms casually, completely unaware that he's throwing an eavesdropping Eddie into an absolute crisis right now. There's a soft thudding sound like Steve's hitting the back of his head against the stall wall. His voice gets kind of wistful, almost dreamy, as he says, “His rings, man. Rings and tattoos…and that long hair and those chains he'd wear… Honestly just his whole punk aesthetic thing had me mesmerized.” 

“Pretty sure he's metal, not punk,” Robin corrects him. 

Thanks, Robin. Also, what the fuck is happening right now? 

“Whatever. Still hot as hell,” Steve says. 

Eddie squeaks again and practically shoves his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise, his teeth knocking against his rings. The rings Steve likes, apparently. He feels like he's going to pass out, his heart beating so erratically it's making him lightheaded. King Steve - the popular, preppy, stupid, gorgeous, dumb jock Eddie's been crushing on since forever - just called him hot????  

“Did you hear that?” Robin asks suddenly, voice low and cautious. 

Shit. 

“Is anyone else in here?” Steve calls out. 

Fuck. 

Eddie bites down hard on his knuckles and holds his breath, going impossibly still. If they get up and search the bathroom, then he’s about to be caught red handed, crouched on top of a toilet seat with his fist in his mouth and his face flushed scarlet, eavesdropping on their private conversation about secret Russians and gay crushes. Eddie contemplates falling into the toilet and attempting to flush himself down it. Every god imaginable is receiving a silent prayer from him right now as he watches apprehensively through the gaps in the stall. One of those gods must've heard and taken pity on this poor gay disaster of a man crouched like a goblin in a bathroom stall, because after a few horrible seconds of silence, all Steve does is lean down to peer beneath the stalls for a moment before sitting back up and saying, “Looks empty. I think the drugs are making us hear things.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Robin says. Then she giggles, knocking her leg against Steve’s. “I still can’t believe you were into Eddie.” 

Steve flicks Robin’s knee. “I can’t believe you were into Tammy.”

“What’s wrong with Tammy?!” Robin protests.

“What’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve counters. “At least he’s actually got talent. Tammy’s a total dud - she wants to be a singer and shit but she can’t even hold a tune.” 

Eddie is going to die. He is actually going to die right here, right now, because Steve Harrington thinks he’s hot and talented. And then Steve starts mimicking Tammy, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a ridiculously goofy voice, and now Eddie is going to die because he finds that so stupidly endearing and adorable. Maybe he should just flush himself down the toilet, save himself from this hopelessly pathetic crush of his. Instead, he’s saved by the bathroom doors bursting open again and a new voice shouting at them, “Okay. What the hell?!” 

Steve and Robin collapse into a fit of giggles before being dragged to their feet by the newcomers and led out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone and reeling and struggling to process literally everything he’s just overheard. He finally hops down from his toilet perch and exits the stall like he’s in a daze. He’s not sure how long he had been camped out in there - probably only about ten minutes - but it felt like hours, so long that the world outside of that single bathroom stall almost feels foreign and unfamiliar now. 

Eddie grips the bathroom sink and stares at his flustered reflection in the mirror and whispers to himself, “What the actual fuck?” 

---

Later, years later, only after he and Steve are already dating, Eddie tells him all about this experience, and Steve laughs so hard he nearly cries.

#saw that post and immediately wrote this within the next four hours lmao. i hope this is what you were imagining #i literally watched the s3 bathroom scene like five times to make this as accurate as possible lol #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #season 3 steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #ficlet #mine #(now also on ao3 under the user brokenfandoms) #5k #!!!!???!??!!! #holy shit y'all thanks for all the love on this <3

[steddiealltheway]

(I have just hit a very nice (silly) milestone of 6969 followers, so I wrote this little ficlet to celebrate and thank you all for always being so supportive 💛 I hope you enjoy)

Everyone is shocked when Steve and Eddie announce they’re moving in together.

But, to Steve, it’s really a no-brainer. Robin is going away to college, the kids are starting to get their licenses and no longer need a babysitter, and Eddie desperately wants to get out of Hawkins.

So, Steve bought a map, measured the distance between Hawkins and Robin’s college, and marked a spot right in the middle.

Okay, so maybe it ended up being in the middle of a river, but there was a town near there that was perfectly not too far from Hawkins while being far away enough for Eddie to feel safe. As well as being far enough from Robin to give her space at her new school while being close enough that she could easily spend the night at their place whenever she wanted.

But distance wasn’t a problem for anyone, they were mainly concerned about how Steve and Eddie would live with each other and not kill each other.

But after a few weeks, Steve can confidently say that living with Eddie is… nice actually.

Really really nice.

Of course, he had been a little concerned about all their differences and adjusting to having someone always around, but Steve enjoys the company.

Actually, he specifically enjoys Eddie’s company.

Sure, he can be loud and a bit messy, but Steve loves that their small apartment actually feels like a home.

Whenever Robin stops by, she comments about how domestic they’re getting. Especially whenever Eddie randomly appears with a cup of water not even seconds after Steve mentions he was getting thirsty.

But what Steve fails to mention to Robin are all the little other things Eddie does, like when it’s late at night and Eddie brushes the hair off of Steve’s forehead and says, “It’s a little late for me to see those beautiful eyes still open."

Sometimes when they're watching a movie, Steve will fall asleep and wake up to Eddie carrying him to bed as if it's an easy thing to do.

And yeah, maybe Steve finds it overwhelmingly hot, and maybe he clings a little tighter whenever Eddie tries to put him down so they're stuck in a tight embrace that Steve can wave off as a result of being half asleep.

But sometimes Eddie's eyes linger on Steve a little longer than they should or Eddie will throw his arm over the back of the couch and let his fingertips lightly trace over Steve's shoulder or run through his hair gently as if he doesn't even notice himself doing it. And it makes Steve think that maybe, just maybe, Eddie might have feelings for him too.

But just when things are going great, and Steve is thinking about testing the boundaries of their friendship to push more into romantic territory, Eddie starts fucking with him.

The problem is, it's not anything big or obvious that Steve can just laugh off. Instead, Eddie starts messing with the thermostat. The thermostat Steve likes to keep strictly at 71.

But Eddie has decided to set it to 69.

At first, Steve just adjusts it, wondering why Eddie is bumping it down when he's always cold and wraps himself in a blanket, complaining that 71 is too cold.

After two days of back and forth, Steve wonders if the thing is just broken because he hasn't actually seen Eddie mess with it. So, he wanders to Eddie's room and knocks on the door lightly before opening it.

Eddie lays back on his bed with a smirk on his face that instantly alerts Steve that Eddie has in fact been messing with him.

He crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. "Have you been messing with the thermostat?"

Eddie shrugs and comments, "Maybe."

Steve frowns, not sure what the hell kind of game Eddie's playing at. "Well, can you maybe leave it at seventy-one?"

"And if I don't?" Eddie challenges, cocking his head to the side, "What are you going to do about it?"

"Change it back to seventy-one," Steve replies easily. He feels like he's missing something when Eddie's face falters a bit, but he hopes it's just him getting the message to not mess with it. And just in case he doesn't get it, he shuts the door a little more firmly than usual.

Only, two days later, Steve happens to notice that the thermostat is set to 69 again. He scowls and presses the button twice before going off to Eddie's room and knocking on the door again a little harder than usual, wondering why Eddie is trying to mess with him after they had been having such a nice day.

"Come in!" Eddie chirps.

Steve swings the door open and rests his hands on his hips. "You changed it again."

Eddie shrugs and leans back on his bed looking overly comfortable. "Just setting the mood."

"Yeah, you've set the mood, and you set it to annoyed. Stop changing it," Steve says as he starts to close the door. He stops as it's about to close and peaks his head back in. "Please."

With that, he thinks he's done with the whole thing. And after a few days pass, he's pretty much forgotten about the whole incident.

That is, until Robin comes to visit and suddenly asks, "Does it feel slightly colder in here to you?"

Steve groans and walks over to the thermostat, seeing the number 69 staring back at him. He's not sure when Eddie changed it, but he's not even currently there so Steve can yell at him. Instead, he just complains to Robin, "Eddie's been fucking with me and changing the thermostat."

Robin snorts. "Isn't he like perpetually cold all the time?"

"Yes! Which is why I'm so confused about him keeping it at sixty-nine all the time."

Robin pauses and glances over at Steve. "What is he keeping it at?"

"Sixty-nine."

Robin just cackles in response, and Steve glares at her asking, "What?"

"Sixty-nine!" Robin laughs again.

"Real mature, Robin," Steve says, rolling his eyes before the realization hits him. "Oh, Christ."

Robin only laughs harder, but Steve is stuck on the other conversations he had with Eddie which were... definitely miscommunications. Oh god, was Eddie trying to... proposition him?

Robin's laughter dies down enough for her to ask, "What's wrong?"

Steve gives her a look and sits down on the couch next to her, further realizing the thermostat incidents happened after days when the two of them got a little more... friendly than usual.

Steve sighs and explains the entire situation including the things he's left out before including his feelings for Eddie. He's glad that Robin holds in her laughter until after he's done.

"Stop laughing, it's not funny."

Robin manages to say through her laughter, "You both are disasters. But you're both so gone on each other that it's almost a little disgusting." She then stands up and grabs her bag, walking toward the front door.

"Where are you going?" Steve asks, following her.

Robin turns around and gives Steve a look. "I'm leaving before Eddie gets back and you two..." she gestures toward the thermostat.

Steve groans, "Get out, Buckley." He can't help but smile before he pulls her into a hug and digs some money out of his wallet.

"What's this?" Robin asks.

"Gas money for sending you away early."

Robin smiles and salutes him. "I guess this means I'll be coming back tomorrow."

"I'll call in case we're still-"

"Gross, dingus," Robin says with a laugh before she hugs him one more time and whispers, "Thank you for telling me."

Steve just squeezes her a little tighter.

After she leaves, Steve takes a minute to form a plan before Eddie gets back from whatever store he went to. He looks at the thermostat and sets it back to 71 degrees while he tries to think.

Unfortunately, he doesn't get far in his thinking before the front door unlocks and Eddie walks in with a few grocery bags in hand.

Steve just turns around and tries not to look too startled by Eddie's sudden appearance.

Eddie gives him a confused look and gestures outside. "Did I just see Robin leave?"

Steve nods but gives no further explanation, stuck on how the hell he's supposed to approach this subject with Eddie. God, now he understands the thermostat method.

"You okay?" Eddie asks before his eyes settle on the thermostat. "Oh, shit. Sorry, I did that late last night. Can we just forget that that happened? It was... dumb really."

Instead of forgetting it, Steve dramatically reaches up and hits the down button twice. "I think I finally get it." Eddie's eyes widen as Steve crosses his arms and continues, "Setting the mood, right? Or, tell me, what are you going to do about it?"

Eddie looks at him for a second then suddenly drops all the bags in his hands, practically racing down the hallway to Steve and cupping his face in his hands. "Am I reading this right?"

Steve slowly glances at the thermostat. "Well, it does say sixty-nine."

Eddie huffs out a laugh but quickly clarifies, "I don't just want that. I mean... I like you. And I just couldn't think of a good way to bring that up without it being some type of joke. Not that liking you is a joke, but oh god-"

"Eddie," Steve says firmly, stopping his rambling. "I like you, too."

Eddie's face lights up. "Yeah?"

Steve nods as his hands come up to Eddie's waist and pull him in a little closer.

"You like me enough to sixty-"

"Oh, shut up," Steve says with a big smile.

"Make me," Eddie replies, giving Steve an exaggerated wink.

Steve shakes his head and sighs before pulling Eddie into a sweet kiss, both of them smiling too much to make it anything more than a peck. When they pull away, Steve thinks he might murder Eddie when he whispers, "Nice."

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #they're both idiots and i love them #thank you guys for 6969 <3

[unclewaynemunson]

I definitely think it takes Eddie a while to accept that Steve changed. He remembers what he was like in high school.

When Steve asks him out, for whatever reason, Eddie says yes. But he’s determined not to fall in love, because deep down Harrington’s still a dick. But he’s cute, and Eddie can smile and play pretend.

But then! Steve goes full happy relationship mode, he tells Robin (obv), introduces Eddie to the other adults as his bf, and is just generally being sweet.

MY SWEET ANON I HOPE YOU'LL STILL SEE THIS!!!

I'm so sorry it took me ages to answer this one! But I really loved the idea of this (the good ol' steddie + misunderstanding about what they mean to each other with a dash of terrible communication skills my beloved) so i wanted to give it my proper attention, which i didn't have enough time for over the past few months. Buuut the words have finally found their way to my keyboard so here is the first part of what probably will turn into a 3-part ficlet, I hope it's something like what you had in mind when you sent this ask to me <3

---

Eddie has been acting weird all day. Maybe Steve is too much of a romantic, but he can't help it: he wanted to celebrate this day. Exactly a month ago, he asked Eddie out. And it's been good. They've spent a lot of time together. They've been on lots of dates, spent plenty of nights together... But today, things are different, somehow. Eddie is different. He turned Steve down for a dinner date, he didn't stop by Family Video during lunchtime, and when Steve shows up at the trailer to surprise him with flowers, he merely frowns and pulls back from their kiss before it can even properly get started.

'Everything alright?' Steve asks, trying to catch his boyfriend's gaze – which isn't exactly easy with how Eddie is turning away from him to not-so-gently put the flowers down in a corner of the trailer's living room.

'Yeah, sure,' Eddie mumbles, not really looking at him. 'It's just – I didn't really expect to see you today. We didn't have plans.'

Steve chuckles, trying to get the tension out of his chest. 'Didn't know I was expected to schedule an appointment before coming here.' He tries to play it off as a joke, but the tone of his voice doesn't really want to cooperate.

Eddie finally turns back towards him and Steve catches the end of an eye-roll.

'I'm just not feeling too great today, alright?' It sounds a bit stiff and Steve pauses. He wonders if he did something wrong, if he somehow invaded Eddie's space – even though he has showed up at the trailer on countless evenings in the past month.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Eddie answers, a little bit too fast. 'I told you, I'm not feeling so well.'

And now that he can see his face properly, Steve notices that Eddie is indeed looking paler than usual.

'Hey, don't worry about it,' he says. 'I can stay to take care of you, if you want to. We don't have to do anything. You can go to bed early and I'll keep you company. I can make you some soup, read to you... You could've just told me you're not feeling good, you know. I would've picked up some fruit on my way over here and stopped by the library for you.'

'You don't have to do any of that, Steve.'

Steve tries to ignore the fact that it's been ages since Eddie has last called him by his official first name. He doesn't like the sound of it.

'But I want to,' he says instead. He takes a step towards Eddie, lifts his arms to wrap them around him – but Eddie swats his arms away before he can properly embrace him.

'Don't.' He sounds cold and detached, so different from how he usually sounds. 'Don't act like this is something it isn't.'

'Like this is something –' Steve echoes, completely caught off-guard by this turn of events. 'Like what?'

'Jesus Christ, you really don't know when to stop, do you?'

'What?' He takes a stumbling step backwards, driven away by the force in Eddie's words.

'We're not – like that,' Eddie stutters out. 'We're just fucking around, aren't we? So you don't need to pretend. You don't need to bring me flowers. You don't need to take care of me when I'm sick. You don't owe me anything, alright? You can go home.'

Steve takes another step backwards, until his back collides with the door of the trailer. He blindly grabs the door handle behind him.

'Alright,' he says, trying desperately not to let his voice tremble audibly. 'I hear you, loud and clear. I'll – I'll leave you alone, then.'

Read pt2 here (Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #anon seriously thank you so much for sending this to me!! it's been a great scenario to explore #and my apologies for the angst lmao #but i promise more will follow soon #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[steddieas-shegoes]

i'm onto you

It may be Halloween, but it's also...@simplebtromance's birthday!!! You've been here with me pretty much since the beginning, and you deserve so much more than this ficlet, but I hope you love this anyway! We've had many a discussion about queer Wayne, so this is just a little something for you to sip on as a birthday treat 💖

rated t | 1,605 words check ao3 for more tags

Wayne liked to think he couldn’t be rattled, not since Eddie “died” and showed up on his doorstep being held up by Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson looking like he hadn’t slept in a week and hadn’t showered for even longer.

But walking into his trailer to see Steve Harrington wrapped up in Eddie’s arms on his couch did startle him a bit.

It’s not like Steve was a stranger, not since he’d explained some of what happened to Eddie with certain looks that told him he wasn’t able to say more, please don’t ask, please accept what I’m telling you as the full truth and nothing but the truth. But he’d only been over when the kids were over, hanging back and watching them have fun with Eddie with a soft smile on his face.

Wayne noticed, he always noticed. But he didn’t really think much of it until now.

Steve was lying on top of Eddie, head on his chest and hand gripping his shirt like a lifeline. His face was relaxed, though, lips parted as he breathed shallowly. Eddie’s arms were wrapped around his back, hands not quite gripping, but clearly holding him tight.

It could be nothing.

It could just be that both of these boys had seen things that most wouldn’t understand and found solace in each other.

It could be that they didn’t mean to fall asleep like this.

It could be that they were exploring something together.

Wayne smiled to himself when Steve’s hand loosened, falling away from Eddie’s shirt. Eddie’s arms tightened briefly, his head turning so that his face buried more into Steve’s hair.

He walked towards his bedroom with the same fond smile on his face.

– – – – – –

It wasn’t the first time Wayne was woken up by the sound of loud music playing, but it was definitely the first time that it was the sound of Blondie blasting through the speakers of Eddie’s boombox.

His alarm clock said that it was almost ten in the morning, so he couldn’t be too mad. Six hours of sleep was more than he got for years, and from the sounds of it, Steve was still here and probably making them breakfast.

He’d done that a lot when Eddie was healing, unable to do much other than walk to the bathroom when he needed to and eat in his bed. Wayne was grateful for it, for Steve.

When he walked into the kitchen, he froze.

Eddie was sitting on the counter, Steve standing between his legs.

Kissing.

He considered turning around and pretending he hadn’t seen it, figured they’d both come to him when they were ready to acknowledge whatever they were.

But when he heard a quiet moan, he had to let them know he was there.

“Mornin’ boys.”

They jumped apart quickly, Steve turning towards the pan on the stove full of bacon with an obvious flush covering the back of his neck.

Eddie jumped off of the counter and tried to hide Steve’s discomfort.

“Hey. Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you up,” Eddie started tugging on the ends of his hair, his nervous habit from childhood, even before his hair was this long.

“Music’s kinda loud. It’s okay though. Whatcha makin’?” He asked, pretending everything was normal, not pointing out that he’d just walked in on them making out in the kitchen.

“Bacon,” Steve’s shaking voice came from behind Eddie. “Fried eggs. Toast with peanut butter or jelly.”

“Sounds great,” Wayne said, walking to the coffee pot to grab a cup of coffee, smiling to himself when he realized that one of them had started a fresh pot not too long ago.

He snuck a glance at Steve, who looked like he was going to start crying any moment.

And that just didn’t sit right.

He didn’t want Steve to ever feel uncomfortable here, whether he was here as a friend to Eddie or more.

He set his mug back down without taking a sip and gently pushed Eddie aside to tug Steve into a hug.

Steve tensed in his arms for a moment, then relaxed, a shaky breath leaving him as Wayne rubbed his back.

“You’re allowed to be happy here, Steve. You don’t gotta tell me anything you don’t wanna, but you’re safe in this house. You and Ed both,” he said softly against the top of Steve’s head.

He was reminded of a similar discussion he’d had with Eddie when he was 14, when he’d been caught kissing an older boy when Wayne came home early from a shift at the plant. The boy ran, and Eddie had locked himself in his room for 15 minutes, furiously packing. When he opened the door to see Wayne leaning against the wall next to the door, unimpressed look on his face, he froze.

“Goin’ somewhere?” he’d asked him.

“You won’t want me to stay now, right?” Eddie had tried to sound confident, emotionless, but he was failing.

“Be a bit hypocritical of me to kick ya out for kissin’ a boy when I’ve got a boyfriend, wouldn’t it?”

Eddie unpacked, and they talked for a bit about Wayne’s boyfriend, Eddie being gay, and how he’d always be safe in Wayne’s house.

Steve had clearly never been given that kind of comfort, maybe hadn’t even had the chance to find that comfort in his own home. Wayne could give that to him.

“You don’t care that I’m, that we-” Steve started, almost immediately getting shushed by Wayne.

“Son, I’ve known Ed’s gay for years and if you think I wasn’t onto you the day you brought him to me half dead, I dunno what to tell ya.”

Eddie was standing to the side, watching quietly. Wayne didn’t need to see his face to know he was grateful.

“Sorry we kinda defiled the kitchen,” Steve finally said as he pulled away.

“Kissin’ ain’t defiling anything.”

Steve blushed again, wiped his eyes as he turned back to where the bacon was probably about to burn.

“No it’s not.”

Wayne paused as he thought about the phrasing of Steve’s response.

He looked over at Eddie, who was conveniently pouring his own cup of coffee. He didn’t even like coffee.

“My one and only rule is that you clean up after…whatever it is you’ve done to defile the shared space,” Wayne smirked. “I’d prefer it stays in the bedroom, though, kay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed, not making eye contact.

“Got it,” Eddie replied.

Any leftover awkwardness disappeared when Wayne tried to reach directly into the still sizzling pan to grab a piece of bacon, only to be swatted away by Steve.

“You’ll burn yourself!” Steve shook his head. “Now I see where Eddie gets it.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested. “I do not reach into still cooking pans! I wait until the food is on a plate before I burn myself!”

“My apologies. You’re just an idiot later,” Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his tone gave away how much he cared about Eddie.

– – – – – –

Wayne started seeing Steve more often, usually wrapped in Eddie’s arms or holding his hand, or watching him play guitar.

He spent the night more often than not, and Wayne sometimes overheard his yelling when he had a nightmare.

Eddie explained to him that they’d gotten better, but he’d probably always have nights where the monsters made an appearance, and unfortunately, getting him out of the nightmare was pretty difficult.

If Wayne was awake already, he usually brought a cup of tea to Eddie’s room and gave them both a quick kiss on the head.

He also made them breakfast most mornings, liked cooking for them, experimenting with new recipes and finding interesting flavor combinations.

After a few months of this, Wayne suggested he look into culinary school.

“There’s a place in Indy, I know one of the chefs there. He’d probably be able to help ya get started,” Wayne said around a bite of his peach pancakes with vanilla syrup.

“I dunno if I can do much besides breakfast and desserts,” Steve shrugged, looking down at his plate. “Plus, Indy’s too far to be driving back and forth every day. I still have to work.”

“Not if you live there. And you could probably work at a restaurant in the evenings.”

Eddie watched them both, unreadable expression on his face.

“Maybe.”

“You know, there’s a few bars there that I could play at. A record shop that probably would hire me,” Eddie chipped in casually, taking a bite of his pancake.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I mean, we’d need to find somewhere cheap, but we could swing it. I’ve got some money still from the government.”

“Yeah, but-”

Eddie’s fork clinked against his plate when he set it down.

“Stevie. Do you want to try?”

Wayne watched them watch each other, small smile forming as he started to understand their silent conversation.

“Only if it’s with you, baby,” Steve finally said.

“Then we’ll go this weekend to check it out.”

– – – – – – – –

Wayne got to watch them choose each other.

He watched them choose a life outside of Hawkins.

He watched them choose a future where they could have a happiness he could only dream of.

They came to visit often, and invited Wayne to their apartment almost as often.

They even brought him to one of their favorite bars, known for being a safe place for queer people, where he struck up a conversation with one of the bartenders, Larry.

And then he got to choose a life outside of Hawkins too.

One that led to more happiness than he could have pictured for himself.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wayne munson #birthday fic #getting together

[azullumi]

“midnight calls and comforts” ; alhaitham

summary — you call him in the middle of the night, unable to sleep and only wishing to hear him.

pairing — alhaitham (w/gender neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, modern settings, never proof-read ; ficlet/scenario

words — 776

note — hello hehe, did i put aside all of my drafts and did this instead? yes, i did

a ring crashes through the silence of the night, abruptly disrupting the tranquility of it. the continuous sound of tapping being put on halt in the process.

alhaitham who was up and working on his laptop briefly wondered who would call him at this time of the night, it was already well past midnight and most would have been asleep at this point—except for you, whose name was displayed across the screen with the sign ‘<’ and the number 3 next to it.

“yes, love?” he answers, placing the phone against his ear, “calling at this hour seems a little late, isn’t it? is something the matter?”

he maintains the same tone that he always speaks whenever he’s with you, a gentle melody laced with affection, but this time, there was a subtle shift: a touch of worry embracing the usual symphony. just the sound of his voice reassures you of your worries, like a gentle tide that caresses your feet lovingly as it crashes against the shore or a soft touch of the wind as it passes you by.

he hears a sigh coming from the other line before he hears your words: “i can’t sleep.”

“it appears so.”

“are you… busy?” he can sense the hesitance in your tone, afraid that you might be bothering him at this moment. he looks over the open document with the last paragraph left unfinished, the several windows splayed across his laptop screen, and the many tabs that conquers the very top of his browser, and then answers: “no, not as of the moment.”

a short silence ensues before you reply, “are you really?”

he didn’t fail to notice how the call became quiet for a little while after that; alhaitham doesn’t know what to say at that moment, if he should press on with his fib or admit that he was indeed occupied with many things; sure, he was busy but he’s (never) not too busy to spend some time with you, especially at this instant that there seems to be something clouding your mind, persisting and preventing you from falling asleep. besides, he has to admit, he misses you for a bit in this loneliness that this hushed night brings—hearing you does indeed stir some motivation in him, pushing him to finish the last of his work.

“can i stay on call with you?” you speak up once more.

“if you wish so, of course.”

the both of you didn’t speak for a while but the silence that rests wasn’t uncomfortable. alhaitham resumes with his work as the sound of keys tapping did—it was the only thing that you can hear from the other line, yet it was enough to tell you that he was there, that he’s right there with you always, and just the thought of it eases some comfort in your bones.

“what are you doing?”

“just working on a paper, aiming to complete it tonight and clear my agenda of any lingering tasks."

you hum, “have you had any rest?”

“i was able to, even though it was brief.”

in the ensuing quiet that persists, time drifted by. the sole audible sound consisted of hushed breaths, subtle shuffling, and the continuous tap-dance of fingers on keys, occasionally interrupted by the soft scribbling of a pen against paper and your voice that calls out to his name.

“alhaitham?”

he hums as an answer.

“oh, nothing.”

a moment slips by again.

“‘haitham?”

“i’m here.”

it didn’t require an extraordinary intellect to discern that you were simply asking for an assurance, a subtle dance of your intentions were very much clear to him. a delicate tether ensuring his presence remained entwined with yours. and he doesn’t tire of providing you with such assurances if it was to ease your mind, this gesture of his proving to be a testament to his commitment and affection to you; alhaitham was your anchor in the ebb and flow of uncertainties.

a moment passes by once more, fleeting. alhaitham had already finished the last of his work, closing the laptop and setting it aside. he takes notice of the other line of the call being completely silent, no murmur of rustling sheets nor an echo of your voice reaching out to him. there was only nothing but the soft cadence of your breathing filling the quiet space, proving the peaceful surrender of sleep that had claimed you.

a soothing warmth settled within him, painting a tender smile on his lips. he whispers into the serene stillness, “goodnight, my love.” pressing a kiss upon the cool surface phone screen, a silent yearning for it to be your lips beneath instead.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin x you #genshin #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham genshin #genshin alhaitham #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #alhaitham fluff #azul.writes

[hwaitham]

𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓽𝔃 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆ ࣪˖ 𓂃𓋜

al haitham x f!reader . sfw — fluff . established relationship ﾉ how to spend a sunday morning in love . . ♡ note : this is a sweet little ficlet based on a dream i had dreamt two nights ago :3 i apologize for any errors here — i wrote this in one sitting with love absolutely inundating me (∩´͈ `͈∩ ྀི) this is moreso catharsis for me than anything else !

it will never be more homely in al haitham's house than it is late on sunday mornings.

because it really doesn't get much cosier than this: the sumeru sun peeking through the open window to tip its hat and wish upon you a ‘good day!’, the bird-chime breeze whisking the sweet fragrance of ripened zaytun peaches past the curtains, the cuckoo clock announcing that it's prime time for elevenses.

“biscuits with your tea, haitham?”

“yes, thank you.”

what a delightfully dreamy sunday morning it is! today especially of all sundays past, where mottles of gold dust flit and float through the spiced air of his kitchen and you stand before him dressed in a sugar-icing pink frock.

he holds you in his eyes and a mug of chai in his left hand, fondling your fingers with his right, mindlessly thumbing over your ring finger.

al haitham searches for something that isn’t yet there.

and of course, you understand your lover without words. meet his gaze with a demure smile. quiet, fawn-eyed, clever. and you dare him to speak his mind with a pout of your lips, an enticing tilt of your head, a charming giggle that’s puffed out onto the junction of his neck before you give it a kiss— tugging at the roots of his heart in ways you know best, “whatcha thinking about?”

his lips twitch up into a curve at your feigned innocence because, oh, you know exactly what he’s thinking.

it's in this pas de deux that he finds such great joy, these games of push-and-pull that you play. he recognizes that perhaps he's weak to it— your whimsy and wonder, that you're still as coy as when first you met, and he melts underneath it as if he were cream on a cone.

you twirl twine round and round and round his soul to bind it to yours without even realizing.

“i'm sure you already know, habibti,” al haitham tells you: once spoken, once again with a playful tug of your ring finger, once more with the sealing kiss of an unspoken promise to your lips. the syrupy sweetness of his breath and his words are laid thickly on you, and your smile wavers the teensiest of bits as he sets his mug aside and encases your hand within his, raising it to his chest.

“still...”

your head begins to spin and your little heart begins to pound a little louder.

“won't you say it? please?”

so too does his.

there is a lot more vehemence in al haitham than you'd have guessed, and a great deal more than he has any idea of himself— for he's spitting the words out before you can even close your mouth.

but it is just such a tender sunday morning here in his kitchen and the sun is kissing your cheek and casting dancing shadows in the dip of your clavicle and your glass of iced tea is starting to tear up and you smell of harra fruit and white shores and green fields and everything pure in this world and good grief, he is just so in love with you.

“marry me.”

al haitham does not ask it of you nor does he command it of you— it is merely a breath (one that is slightly more wobbly than his pride would have foretold) of a burning desire that he wishes to will into existence.

“let me be your husband.” a delicate kiss is laid upon your ring finger. “let me make you my wife.” another to the one on your opposite hand. “let me make you the happiest girl alive.”

his words slice through your cake of a heart and bleeds it of its custard memories, tart lemony feelings that push a crinkle up your throat and behind your eyes. before he's given the chance to speak such uncharacteristically sweet words any longer, you throw yourself into his arms and steal from him a searing hug.

and it's not the colour of his hair that fascinates you (you do well to remind yourself that it is silver, not grey), nor the peculiar little way he's got about him. it's the form his eyes and lips take when he smiles at you, the shape his voice fills when he talks to you— how carefully, tenderly he crafts himself when it comes to you. it is all for you, entirely yours and only yours to see, to keep, to admire.

“i get to love you until the end of forever... lucky me.” your voice is a garbled mess of sniffles and hiccups but really, you can't help it.

love is inundating you and you can't help but weep in the middle of his kitchen on this fine sunday morning, where the sun blesses you with its light and the birds and chimes sing and the flowers on the sill dance for you and your eternal honeymoon love.

al haitham takes your face within the cradles of his palms, kissing your dewy cheeks and shushing your sobs and caressing you into a peaceful silence. “so… what say you?”

the giggles and squeals of children playing as they run past his house sound through the window and it makes you cling to him tighter, fists furling and unfurling in the linen of his sleep shirt.

how long have you stood, swathed in his sweet embrace like this? his chai is no longer steaming and an ache begins to wrap itself around your head from all the tears you've shed. though, you suppose it matters not— a moment is forever if it is spent in his arms.

“i'm sure you already know, haitham.”

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines #frens …. i jus . …….. .. …… 🥹 #< haithie 3

[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

[navybrat817]

Navy. We got to cuddle with our florist. Are we also going to cuddle with our tattoo artist? 🥺

Of course, nonnie.

Traditions and Innovation

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to kiss you under the mistletoe, but it doesn't happen in the traditional sense.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Kissing, humor, tension, teasing, inner monologue, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

Previous Part of AU: Rules and Chaos

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I'm only capable of ficlets lately, but enjoy some Hottie and Sugar. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics and Bucky edit by the amazing @nixakimbo .Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“My poor, shivering Sugar. Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up in no time,” Bucky said as he curled a hand around your hip, feeling him smile when he brushed a kiss against your temple. “It’s a tough job, but I’ll do it.”

An icy breeze crept into your bones through your coat when you rushed over to the tattoo parlor minutes ago, earning a sympathetic gaze from Jake when you walked through the door. It was one of the coldest days you could remember and you couldn’t get rid of the chill until Bucky offered to cuddle with you on the couch in the break room. You weren’t about to turn down his generous offer.

Especially since the guys made the room bright and cozy for the holidays with twinkling lights.

“Yeah, I really had to twist your arm to snuggle with me,” you teased, your heart thudding as you tilted your head back and let his lips skim along the column of your neck. It was almost criminal how soft his kisses were. “And I have no doubt in your abilities, Hottie.”

The man was built like a furnace, his firm body seeping warmth into yours as he held you in his embrace. Heat continued to pulse through your veins as he chuckled low and deep. “If you ever doubt my abilities in anything, I won’t hesitate to tie you to my bed and prove you wrong,” he promised, his voice even lower as it slipped into something more intimate.

You shivered for an entirely different reason now, threading your fingers through his hair and gripping them before his mouth could reach your chest. It earned you a throaty groan in response, one that nearly had you crawling in his lap. Somehow you managed to stop yourself.

“We can’t get too carried away,” you said, as much as you wanted to. You had to get back to your shop and he had a client coming in for a touch-up shortly. “Don’t give me that look,” you half begged, trying to ignore how your insides clenched when he lifted his head and gave you a glimpse of his darkened eyes.

How could you ever feel cold under that heated stare?

“But I want some sugar, Sugar,” he purred, one hand coming up to gently grasp your chin. Warm breath ghosted across your lips as he leaned in. “Just a little taste.”

Oh, how I want him to properly taste me. Make me see stars. Make me cry his name.

It was almost chaste in the beginning, his lips gently brushing against yours before he pulled back and leaned back in. Your lips parted first, silently begging for him to deepen the kiss. He still had his hand on your chin as he took his time, as if he truly wanted to taste what your mouth had to offer.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” he murmured when he pulled back, his gaze dropping to your lips as you caught your breath. That look alone made your toes curl. “I should put mistletoe everywhere just to find more excuses to kiss you.”

“That would be a first for me,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“What would be a first?”

“Being kissed under mistletoe. I’ve never done that,” you admitted with heated cheeks though there was no need to feel embarrassed.

Bucky pulled back a bit further as his eyebrows shot up, taking some of the warmth with him. “No one has kissed you under mistletoe? How is that possible?”

“I guess I haven’t had the opportunity,” you answered carefully.

A lump formed in your throat when he continued to stare and you weren’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because he treated you as if the sun, moon, and stars hung in the sky because of you. Not everyone saw you as anything special the way he did.

No one ever loved or cared enough about you before to try.

He slowly shook his head as if he refused to believe you. “Well, I’m fixing that right now,” he said more to himself than you before he gently put his hands over your ears. “Jensen!”

You smiled at his muffled shout before he put his arms back around you. His voice carried when he wanted it to. “Yeah?” Jake yelled back before he rushed to the break room and stuck his head in through the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Do we have any mistletoe around here?” Bucky asked.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” You whispered.

“Finding mistletoe before you go back to the shop. And, no, I’m not letting you leave until we find some,” he whispered back, waiting for Jake to give him an answer.

“I don’t think we do. Steve mentioned buying some,” he said, fiddling with his glasses before his eyes widened. “Wait! I think Hal has something that should work.”

“Of fucking course, he does,” your boyfriend mumbled affectionately as Jake went to get him.

“You really don’t have to do anything, Bucky,” you told him, turning his face back toward you. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he wanted to. He was a romantic at heart and you secretly enjoyed that he wanted to find some. “I appreciate it, but we don’t need something hanging over our heads for us to kiss.”

“I know we don’t, but maybe I want to give you that opportunity to have that kind of kiss,” he said. Your mouth went dry at his heart stopping smile. “If you’ll indulge me.”

You felt the weight of his tender gaze as you smiled, your eyes burning slightly from unshed tears. Thinking back on dating jerks like Richard, you were thankful for the experience because it showed you how guys should treat you and that you wouldn’t settle for less than what you deserved. It began with loving yourself.

“There’s no one else I’d rather kiss,” you said, resting your hand on his chest before Hal strolled into the room.

“Well, well, well,” he smiled, bringing attention to his hair as he ran a hand through it. As if he didn't turn enough heads on a normal day, he decided to dye his hair red and half green for the holiday season. “I heard you were looking for some mistletoe.”

“Yeah, you have any?” Bucky asked impatiently.

Hal chuckled and lifted his shirt slightly, giving you both a quick flash of his abs. “As a matter of fact…”

“Oh, my god,” you giggled, covering your mouth as Hal gestured to his belt. The hand painted buckle had mistletoe painted on it with “KISS ME” written underneath. “That’s…”

You stole a glance at Bucky and you swore you saw his left eye twitch. He likely had a sweet plan in his mind and got this instead. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s mistletoe. Just like you asked for. I mean, it’s a form of mistletoe. I have a date tonight with Angel,” Hal explained, pointing at it again. You wanted to wish him good luck with his date, but you couldn’t stop giggling. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here, get on your knees, and start kissing. Or should I go over there?”

There was no mistaking your boyfriend’s eye twitch this time as your laughter died down. “I’m not kissing my girlfriend by your crotch. I’d sooner choke you with that belt.”

Hal seemed to consider it before he quickly shook his head. “Nah. I tried the choking thing once. Not really for me,” he said, smirking mischievously as he looked between the two of you. “But if she’s into that-”

Well...

You grabbed Bucky’s arm before he could launch himself at his employee and friend, who held his hands up in surrender. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you take the belt off and hold it over our heads,” You suggested, hoping to appease your boyfriend as Hal unbuckled his belt with a shrug and removed it from the loops. “It still counts.”

“Not exactly traditional,” Bucky muttered under his breath before you brushed a finger along his chiseled jaw.

“We’ll call this innovative,” you said with a sweet and sincere smile. One you knew he couldn't resist.

“Innovative, huh?” Bucky asked, pulling you close as Hal waltzed over with an amused smile and dangled the belt above your heads.

“Yes,” you smiled as he framed your face. “So kiss me, please.”

Bucky held your cheeks with such care that it sent your heart soaring. This kiss was softer than before, yet full of promise and hunger, deep and thorough. He stole the breath from your lungs until you were left dizzy and wanting more.

It was the kind of kiss that warmed you up all over, like a flame no one could ever put out.

He pulled away first, slowly, but he seemed just as affected as you felt since he let out a shuddering breath and didn't let you go. “Fuck,” he whispered, bringing a smile to your face.

You had to close your eyes again to center yourself, still smiling. “Yeah. Fuck,” you whispered back before Hal cleared his throat.

“I really do adore you two lovebirds,” he began, stepping back to put his belt back on as you opened your eyes. Bucky didn't bother to look his way, only gazing at you. “But before you round the next base, Andy’s still talking about replacing the couch from the last time.”

He'll change his tune if he ever fools around in here with Sunny.

“Thank you, Hal,” you said, bringing a hand to Bucky’s cheek before he could grumble. Your touch was enough to soften his demeanor. “And thank you for my mistletoe kiss. I'll never forget it.”

Just like your first date that didn't go as planned, it made it all the more special.

Bucky smiled before he helped you both get to your feet. You had to get back to work. “I'm glad you liked it, but I’m getting us some actual mistletoe later and putting it all over our apartments. Bedrooms included.”

“Is that innovative?”

“Yeah, it is,” he smiled, sneaking in one more tender kiss before you had to go.

As long as Bucky would be the one to kiss you, he could put up mistletoe wherever he wanted.

These two. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x baker!reader #bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #sin on skin au #hottie and sugar #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

part two of this original ficlet

-

It’s a couple days later when Robin Buckley is in Steve Harrington’s bedroom when it fully hits her. That this boy, not much older than she is- is her best friend. There’s a million universes out there, Robin is one of the ones who believes in that fully and completely. Every little change splitting off and dividing, creating and creating and creating.

Robin, however, can’t even begin to imagine the universes where she doesn’t know Steve. Doesn’t know him fully and completely and as absolutely wholeheartedly as she does. Can’t imagine that there are galaxies where she doesn’t know him as well if not better than herself sometimes.

But he’s hers here.

“Do you want to move in?” Steve’s question is soft spoken, and Robin is quick to turn to catch his eyes in her own. He’s leant up against his desk, a Rubik’s cube in between his fingers. His head is cocked slightly, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes and Robin’s meet. “Rob?”

“Yeah?” Robin allowed herself to grin, a shy and slow curve of her lips, even as she pushed her statistics homework off of her lap. Steve nodded once then twice, a sharp bob of his chin that was so firm it almost caused his chin to make contact with his chest. “You want me to move in with you, dingus?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, soft and sweet, before he tossed the Rubik’s cube toward Robin. She didn’t catch it, she never could really, but it did land in her lap- completely solved. Robin plucked it into her hands, set about messing it up again, so Steve could solve it. “I wanted to ask, since I know you’re eighteen now and-”

“And since my parents still think all of this was an earthquake?” Robin supplied knowingly, before she threw the Rubik’s cube back to Steve. He caught it from the air with his left hand and shyly nodded, before he set about solving the puzzle cube once more. Robin is quiet for a second, just before she continues on. “What about yours?”

“My parents?” Steve asked with a slight furrowed brow, his head cocked slightly to the side. Robin let out a soft hum, though nodded when she saw that Steve hadn’t heard her well. “They uh, aren’t coming back to Hawkins, Rob.”

Robin felt her heart lurch as she rubbed her palms along her jean clad thighs, brow instantly taut as she eyed Steve. He had diverted his eyes, eyes now focused on the way he moved the Rubik’s cube. She had never been good at those, really, and had doubted Steve’s ability in solving them when he first brought the thing into the back of Scoops A’hoy.

That was, of course, until she saw this.

The modes where Steve’s brain whirred by him too fast, his past of dealing with the Upside Down heavy on his shoulders. No matter the jokes the kids tended to make in Steve’s expense, he really wasn’t an idiot. Not when it came to puzzles, at the very fucking least.

Robin shook her head, wiggling further onto the carpet to be able to extend one of her legs. She hooks her ankle around Steve’s, smiling a little bit softer when he immediately eased into the touch. His shoulders stopped being tense and up by his ears, easing down to their natural resting point. Robin let’s it stay quiet for a beat, then two, before she starts to speak again.

“I love you.” Robin let herself murmur the words easily, even when Steve’s eyes are immediately glassy and soft. His brows furrow and she let her own furrow back, a mirror image to his. “Like this all-consuming aching love that I’ve never felt for anyone. Not like this.”

“Robbie-”

“No, let me get this out there.” Robin shook her head quickly as she scrambled forward, coming to kneel at Steve’s side. She cradled his cheeks in her hands, thumbs curled against his cheekbones as she tilted his chin up so his eyes would be met with her own. She knew what she must look like, like she’s on a warpath. (And in her mind, she is.) “I don’t think I have ever loved someone as much as I love you, dingus.”

“You are it for me, Steven Richard Harrington. You are my soulmate, and you-” Robin let herself sniffle, let Steve cradle her own cheeks in his palms. He mimicked the way she held him, hands gentle and thumbs cradling softly against her cheekbones. His thumbs brush even softer under her eyes, sweeping away tears Robin knew had managed to come out. “You deserve someone to tell you that every fucking day, and if it has to be me saying it to you for it to sink in… then so be it.”

“I love you, Robbie.” Steve’s own voice is wet and almost muffled sounding, brows still taut as his eyes shimmer with his own unshed tears. Robin makes sure to be gentle as she pressed her fingers harder into Steve’s face, squeezing his cheeks as she meets his eyes intently.

A beat passed. Then another. Robin let Steve stare unabashedly into her eyes, even when his own softened at whatever he had found inside of them.

“What?” Robin is almost scared to ask the question, even as Steve’s smile twitched at the very corner. Steve hummed softly, thumbs doing a final swoop up Robin’s cheeks, before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Dingus?”

“You like Nancy.”

The statement is enough for Robin’s hands to fall off of Steve’s face, and she could feel the way her jaw slackened slightly. Steve is smug, almost, in the way he leaned further against the base of his desk as Robin scrambled backwards. He’s even quicker though, catching her ankle with his own- and causing her to land with a thud onto her butt that’s only minimally softened by his carpet.

“How did you-”

“You’ll find, that I’m one of the ones that knows what being in love with her is like.” Steve’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge on the back of it that caused Robin to swallow. Robin isn’t sure what fluttered hard in her stomach and chest, an ache of a feeling that caused her mouth to go dry and her brows to furrow. Steve licked at the corners of his mouth for a second, fingers flying faster as he turned and twisted at the Rubik’s cube. “And I just… let me say this, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Robin heard her voice croak, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’s swimming in molasses as she watched Steve. His shoulders are up closer to his ears again, before he seemed to make the conscious decision to lower them. After a beat, the Rubik’s cube is solved, and Robin lets him toss it into her lap again.

“I don’t care that you like her at all, really.” Steve’s voice is soft and his words are spoken with a slow tilt to them, brows still furrowed as his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth. Robin watched him worry at it for a bit, before he let it go and began to speak again. “I was in love with her, I know, and she broke my heart in two-”

“Dingus-” Robin tried softly, but she let herself be cut off when Steve shook his head sharply. She instead, tossed the once more scrambled puzzle cube his way- and watched as he began to solve it again.

“If she…” Steve shook his head once, then twice, before his eyes met hers. There’s something there that’s lurking in them, a steel glimmer to them that Robin hasn’t seen before. He’s never really like this with her, not pulling on his King Steve persona like a personal shield again. “If she hurts you, Rob? Whatever friendship between her and I that’s somehow been salvaged? It’s… There is… I don’t care for a lot, not really anymore.”

Steve paused for a beat, shaking his head as he sniffled. He continued, speaking quieter and focused on his hands as he let the Rubik’s cube fall to his carpet.

“But if I ever have to chose between you and her? Rob, I’m going to pick you every time. And I want to be selfish and ask if you’d pick me too.”

Robin felt the tears then, hot and almost burning against her cheeks. Steve scrambled forward almost immediately, and Robin let out a gross even to her ears sounding sniffle as she let him cradle her to his chest. Robin reached up then, fingers searching and digging, pulling Steve closer to her. They entwine easily, and Robin can’t help but immediately think of Greek mythology.

There’s a story, one her mother used to tell her in place of fairytales. Of how the Greek philosopher, Plato, believed that humans used to have four arms and legs, and had two faces. Her mother always told it best, of how Zeus had deemed humans too prideful and split them as a form of punishment. Humans destined to walk the Earth searching for their other half, for their soulmate.

When she was little she used to think it would be romantic.

She knew better now.

She knew better because here she had Steve. And she may never get the chance or even the balls to tell Nancy Wheeler how she feels.

(That there are times where Robin looks at Nancy, and envisions a life where they are incandescently happy. Times where Robin can remember the burn and ache she felt for both Tammy and for Vickie, but that even together they don’t amount to what she feels for Nancy. That there are times where all Robin can do is just fucking wish and—)

She may never have a romantic soulmate.

Maybe it’s not in the cards for her in this reality, maybe that’s only something she can have in a different universe. Strangely, a part of her is okay with that.

Because here she has Steve. Here Steve has her.

And they’re SteveandRobin and RobinandSteve.

Two halves of a whole split by a God in a fit of rage, but somehow against all the odds they have managed to find each other and conjoin again.

Robin kept her voice soft as she pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s chest, and she left her lips there as she mumbled her next words. They’re the only words that fit, even though she wished she could bare her soul and mind completely, let him read and take his fill. Let him be comforted by her love.

As complete and unconditional as it is.

“I’d chose you in every fucking lifetime, Steve.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Robin squeezed her fingers more intently against Steve’s shoulders. Steve is quick to mimic her, giving Robin a few quick pulses of his fingers, before he spoke up after a beat.

“I think I have a crush on Eddie.”

Robin can’t help but explode into laughter.

Steve followed with his own shortly after.

—

hope you enjoyed! here’s the link for this fic if following along with it on ao3 is more your jam <3 more parts to come soon!

taglist:

@wonderland-girl143-blog @bxlthazar @estrellami-1 @plutoshelm @stevesbipanic @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @plyerice27 @justforthedead89 @nuttychaosface @princess-eddie @daydreaming-mood @anaibis @marsbars97 @messrs-weasley @beckkthewreck @he-she-steveharrington @practicallybegging @trashcanniballecter @theluckyalien @chaoticvictorianspirit @fantasyfr3ak @newtstabber @mightbeasleep @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @songbird-garden @thisisallicouldthinkof @emma-elsa-0000 @leather-and-freckles @shinekocreator @alex-whitley-187 @gay-little-bitch @pluto-pepsi @silentiumdelirium @kitchen-spoon @bossyknow-it-all

#angeldreamsoffanfic #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #platonic stobin #steve harrington and robin buckley are bffs #robin would die for steve #and steve for robin #steve harrington has bad parents #also my personal headcanon is that the Rubik’s cube from fv is steve’s can’t you tell? #steve harrington is smart #also yes sorry i do think this is how steve would act when robin told him she likes nancy #bc nancy already broke steve’s heart once #and steve forgives nancy but loves robin more #platonic stobin month #background ronance #background steddie #sorry

[spdrvyn]

is that my hoodie? — MIGUEL O'HARA

☆ you've been having trouble sleeping, tossing and turning in your bed so you try finding the closest thing you can have to your boyfriend's presence and eventually spot his hoodie.

toothrotting fluff. gn!reader. idiots in love. trying to get into the spirit of writing and figured it would be good for practicing time management if i tried uploading a ficlet every once in a while. enjoy!

Sleepless nights dare not utter your name.

You and your bed went hand in hand with each other. On most nights after coming home from work, you'd skip the self-care routine and instantly hit the pillow, letting dearest slumber do all of its work. 

So when you get together with highest ranking insomniac, Miguel O'Hara, you're left in shock when it's midnight and he still insists on staying up late. At times, you would have to put a fight just to get him to sleep a little. 

No matter, you obviously still love your boyfriend, even though his sleep schedule is akin to a vampire. Even though his eyebags are deep enough to carry all of your groceries, but given his physique both of his arms could do that too. 

Unfortunately, you're lead to believe that he's starting to have an influence on you. 

You've started to get a little bit dependent on Miguel when you need to sleep. You knew well that his job really needed him to work through grogginess and exhaustion, but it was hard to even close your eyes knowing that his side of the bed was empty. 

You'd normally try finding the closest thing to his presence. Eating his favorite foods before bed, sleeping with a picture of him next to you on your phone, it was almost a little pathetic. The amount of times that Miguel would clamber through the window frustrated only for his mood to soften after seeing that you're fast asleep while his face was zoomed in on a selfie you two shared.

It's not like he would complain, he'd never complain about something like this. He found it rather endearing you missed him so badly while he was away, it's a feeling that he had long yearned for and now, it was at his very fingertips. 

Although tonight was a particularly different night, and definitely not in a good way either. You'd tossed and turned, trying out each of your little methods yet nothing worked. Perhaps digging a deep hole and dying in it would be a better solution to this horrible problem. 

You weren't even quite sure if Miguel was home yet, it was very late so it was guaranteed he'd be here soon, but still. 

You missed him. You missed him and it hurt.

Gruffly, you sat up from your lone spot on the bed, rubbing at your heavy eyelids. Once your vision had cleared, adjusting to the darkness of the room properly, you had picked up on something from across the room. 

Hanging from a chair was Miguel's hoodie, he only really brings it with him every once in a while, particularly when it was a chillier day at the office. Is it easy for spiders to get cold? You'd google that later.

Nevertheless, the opportunity came up and you took it with no questions asked. Moving out of your bed, you outstretch an arm to yoink his hoodie from the desk chair.

Even just holding it up in front of you, the article of clothing looked massive. Upon first meeting, you thought Miguel's size was a little bit terrifying with a mix of intrigue. You always wondered what he ate growing up to even get tall enough to practically shrink you.

Now that you're actually dating him, you've been more than content with it. Doesn't mean the fact that he's 6"9 doesn't intimidates you a little, but it has its advantages.

After that thought, you take up the courage to actually put it on and it's as big as it looks. The edge of the hoodie practically reaching your knees as the sleeves dangle off of your hands that you have to pull them up to your elbows.

Once you pulled the hood over, you were overwhelmed with his scent. Yeah, surely this would work.

You fall back down onto the mattress, bringing the collar of the hoodie to your nose to get another whiff of it. There was a good chance that you'd be embarrassed of yourself for acting so lovesick later but right now? Getting some sleep was all that mattered.

So you waited and waited and waited...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Your nails dig into the softness of your pillow, what a fucking idiot you must be. The urge to curse your brain out for not letting you get some sleep was strong, but you didn't want to be the reason that other people stay up like this as well.

It simply wasn't enough. You could walk down to the nearest nerd shop, buy a really stupid looking Spider-Man figure, sleep with it, and it wouldn't be the same as being in the same bed with the life-sized stupid looking version of him.

Eventually, you relented. It seemed that you were just going to have to cope with not being able to get sleep and walk into work this morning looking like a zombie.

Your body threatened to crumble in on itself as you lazily stumbled out of the bedroom and into the living room. Only to see...

Miguel. Hunched over the kitchen counter, multiple screens leaving a vermillion glow on his chiseled face. He was wearing a compression shirt and some gray sweats, glasses pushed up on his nose with his signature pout playing at his lips.

Now that feeling of idiocy intensified, you were getting all mopey about Miguel not being home and he's here. He's probably been here for only god knows how long. Not that you were complaining.

Lifelessly, you trudge over to him and he miraculously isn't able to pick up on your footfalls, therefore you leave him startled as you push him back against the chair so that you can sit on his lap.

Despite his initial surprise, he instinctively wraps his arms around you and the warmth of it spreads to your very nerves, satisfying that craving for him in your heart.

"Is that my hoodie?" inquires Miguel, his hand moving down to the carefully stitched hem of his clothes, tracing over the seams before slipping under to glide over the skin of your lower back. "You do know that I've been back since thirty minutes ago, right?"

"You should've come to bed then," you said as you nuzzled further into the crook of his neck, your lips pressing up against his pulse point as it thrummed gently. "Missed you a lot."

"I have work to do, you know that," he sighs, pushing his glasses back further onto the bump of his nose.

However, he doesn't need to have superhuman senses to tell that this isn't just the drowsiness talking. Don't get him wrong, his job is of utmost importance, entire livelihoods could be eradicated from even the smallest mishap, but seeing how you're clinging to him, the thought of you even being unable to sleep without him...

The multiverse is the multiverse obviously, that is an undeniable fact, but you were the most important thing to him. Among all else that Miguel has to put up with, you came bursting in and brought an entirely new perspective in his life that he never considered.

You were his multiverse. His life.

"Just a few more minutes," he relents, the feeling of a small kiss on the top of your head bringing a flush to your cheeks. "Just a few more minutes and I'll be all yours, corazón."

"Mmm, you promise?"

"I promise."

With that, a small smile tugs at your lips and you slump against Miguel's body, letting your limbs relax a little as he gets back to work. He keeps a reassuring hand on the small of your back, you think he'll move it away to type away at a document but it doesn't.

It stays there, unwavering and secure. You love it. You love him, you really do. Eventually, you lose feeling of his hand as you succumb to slumber at long last. Miguel notices too, from the way that your breathing deepens and soft snores slip past your mouth.

For once, he sticks to his word. Swiping all the screens that he was attending to and he stands up from his spot on the counter, he adjusts his arm so that you stay properly lifted up on his shoulder. He hesitates as he feels you shift in his arms, but you continue to sleep.

He carries you back to your shared room, setting you down onto the mattress that opposed your rest, now inviting and warm all due to Miguel's presence. He lays down beside you, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face so he can gaze down at your form.

God, he could care less if you were wearing a trash bag in a dumpster or the most ethereal outfit with makeup done by the most talented artist in the world, he'll take in every single part of your beauty.

One final kiss to the bridge of your nose and it doesn't take long for Miguel to visit the land of dreams with you, where he's happy, content, and stupidly in love. Again, with you.

Only you.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #fluff

[whereonceiwasfire]

If you're game to write a cheese melt (Vlad & Dani father-daughter dynamic) ficlet, I'd love to read one. If not, that's cool :)

*vibrating with excitement* My friend. Your cheese melt art has been living rent free in my head for WEEKS. It's my sincerest pleasure to write a ficlet for this. I hope it's okay that it's an outsider POV, I just had an idea and my brain went brrrrrrr LOL

May I offer you a dysfunctional parent-teacher interview?

Parent-teacher interviews are always a nightmare, but there's one in particular that’s making Amity Middle School’s beloved Ms. Burnell sweat through her shirt. As the time slot nears, her gaze keeps flickering to the clock, her classroom door, back to her nervously interlaced fingers on the desktop.

It’s going to be fine. Perfectly fine.

“This one! Over here! Dad! This is my class!” The excited words, shouted in the syrupy sweet voice of a little girl, sets every nerve on edge, Ms. Burnell’s heart plummeting straight into the pit of her stomach.

Oh lord. Maybe it’s not going to be fine. 

Her student comes bounding into the classroom, eyes bright and excited, oversized blue sweater sleeves slipping over her hands, even as she gestures emphatically for her father to follow. Black hair spills out of her ponytail, whipping across her face as she throws herself into a desk across from Ms. Burnell’s with a bright smile. 

Her father, on the other hand… 

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers strike against the linoleum as the man stops at the threshold of the classroom, cool gaze doing an assessing sweep of the space, expression crinkling in distaste as it does. He doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t make any move to actually step inside the classroom. 

Ms. Burnell is the one who clears her throat, pushing to an awkward stand as she extends a hand out to the man. 

“Hello, Mr. Masters. Thank you for making the time to come discuss your daughter’s education. I know you’re very busy.” 

The man’s eyes slip to her outstretched palm, and for a motifying second, she doesn’t think he’s going to take it. When he finally does, he just gives a brief, cursory shake before swiping his palm off on his suit jacket and striding past her toward his daughter. 

Ms. Burnell’s face is all kinds of warm, chest tight with embarassment as she fumbles back to her desk, trying to wrestle herself back into some kind of composure. Still, she barely looks up as she pulls out a folder with Danielle Masters scrawled across the tab.

“Dad! Dad! That one’s mine! Do you see it? Do you like it?” Danielle calls proudly, tugging on her father’s suit sleeve and pointing toward the paintings that are spread out beneath the windows to dry, paper wavy and crinkled.

“Oh, er. That’s actually a good place for us to start,” Ms. Burnell cuts in apologetically. 

Mr. Masters gaze snaps from where he’d been examining his daughter’s project, over to her, brows dropped low. 

“Why? Is there a problem with my daughter’s work?” The question is sharp, accusatory, and she’s pretty sure her soul shrivels up a little bit at the unguarded disdain in the man’s eyes.

Swallowing hard, sweat beading against the back of her neck, Ms. Burnell resists the urge to immediately take it back. Surely he can see the problem with the piece—isn’t going to make her say it? 

It's too scary.

When his challenging gaze doesn’t waver, she forces the words out. 

“Uhm. Well. It’s just. Not quite. Appropriate for a sixth grade class?” It pitches up into a question as she gestures vaguely toward Dani’s painting. 

It’s a bit sloppy, the layers of paint caked upon each other, the lines hasty and uneven, but the scene itself is clear enough—a little, smiling, white-haired girl in the shadow of some kind of hulking creature, its skin blue, eyes red, sharp fangs bared as its cape flares out to take up the rest of the page. 

Ms. Burnell almost set up an appointment for Danielle with the school counselor when she saw it, wondering if Dani felt like she was the little girl, trapped amongst nightmares and “monsters.” She decided against it for the time being, until she could speak with the girl’s father, but that’s proving rather unhelpful so far if the contemptuous way the man is looking at her is any indication.

“Did Danielle complete the assignment?” he asks finally. 

“Uhm. Yes.” 

“And adhere to the grading criteria?” 

“Sh-she did,” Ms. Burnell answers reluctantly.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” he answers, finality in the words as his gaze turns to his daughter. He takes a much softer tone with her, brushing the disorderly strands of hair off her face, an absent domesticity in the way he straightens the ponytail gone lopsided. “I think you did a lovely job, dear.” 

“Thank you! I used Alizarin Crimson,” she answers proudly, hair flopping right back into her eyes.

“Excellent choice.” 

“Uhm. Well, there’s also the matter of Danielle’s conduct,” Ms. Burnell cuts in.    

The man lets out an irritated sigh, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back against one of the desks, one ankle crossed over the other, unimpressed gaze finding Ms. Burnell once more. 

“What?” he says, like it’s an inconvenience.

She swallows hard. “She’s been…uhm. Not getting along with some of the other girls.” 

“That is so unfair, Mackenzie started it!” Danielle shouts abruptly, popping up to her knees on her chair, palms slapping down against the desktop. 

“Well that’s not what Mack—” 

The girl keeps going, cutting Ms. Burnell off. 

“She said the only reason Eli agreed to play with me at recess was because Joshua dared him too, and I said nuh unh and she said yuh hunh, and I asked how she knew that, and she couldn’t even prove it, it was so obvious she was making it up!” 

“Mackenzie told me that you said some pretty unkind words to her, Danielle.” 

“Barely! I just said it was a bad look for her to be so jealous of me and just because she looks like she fished her outfit from the same trash bin she got her personality from isn’t any reason to be a jerk.”

Her father’s expression twists into a sharp smirk, amusement lighting his blue eyes, and Ms. Burnell thinks she’s starting to get a better sense of why Danielle is proving to be one of the most challenging students in her class this year. 

“We treat people with kindness and respect in this classroom, Dani. Do you think what you said to Mackenzie was kind and respectful?” 

“Well…” Dani’s gaze drops, expression pinching in thought, and Ms. Burnell thinks she might actually be getting through to her.

“It doesn’t sound as though this other girl was treating Danielle with kindness and respect,” Mr. Masters answers, the words coming out with a mocking turn, like he finds the concepts incidental at best.

“That’s true. She did start it,” Dani reasserts, turning her gaze up to her dad.  

“I’ve spoken to Mackenzie about her part in everything,” Ms. Burnell answers tightly. “But we’re here to talk about Danielle’s conduct. That’s not the only incident of its kind that’s occurred this year and—” 

“You know, it sounds to me as though Danielle’s doing just fine,” Mr. Masters says, pushing up to a proper stand, tugging the bottom of his sleeves and smoothing the dark, wrinkleless fabric.

“But—” 

“Did she make this girl cry?” 

“Well. No, but—” 

“And how are my daughter’s academics?” he asks, gaze fixed on hers, sending a chill creeping down her spine. 

“Fine, but—” 

“Has she gotten into a physical altercation with anyone?” 

“Not exactly, but—” 

“Started any fires?” he asks, sarcasm and derision dripping from the words. 

“No, she hasn’t started any fires.” 

“Then I believe this meeting is finished. Thank you for your time, Ms…”

“Burnell,” she answers weakly.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Burnell. Danielle, are you ready to go?”

“Yup!” She pops up to an enthusiastic stand, rushing over to the windows to snatch up her painting, twisting it toward Ms. Burnell. “Can I take this home?”

She gives a heavy sigh, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “Sure, Dani. That's fine.” 

“Thanks, Ms. B!” As the girl traipses after her dad, a bounce in her step, horrifying painting swinging at her side, Ms. Burnell can hear the girl still chattering away, even as they pass out of her classroom, voices growing distant. “Do you think I should have made Mackenzie cry?” she asks.

Ms. Burnell is glad she can’t hear the man’s response—she doesn’t even want to know his answer.

#dp ficlet #danny phantom ficlet #cheese melt #danielle phantom #vlad masters #outsider POV #thanks for the ask! #liliande-comics

[tasteracha]

a/n: a teensy little ficlet for my lils wife @gimmeurtmi's birthday!!! i hope you have the absolute best day and weekend my love i am hugging you and kissing your head <3<3<3

it’s your birthday - you expect to be looked after, waited on hand and foot, treated like a goddess sent from the heavens. and you are, for the most part; seungmin tends to not do anything without a small complaint though, so your home-cooked breakfast was served to you with an exaggerated sigh, your nails were painted perfectly with a roll of his eyes, and he covered the both of you in a blanket so that the two of you could cuddle together while you watch your favorite movie with a fond shake of his head. 

little acts of service accompanied by snark, as if he couldn’t catch himself loving you, or something. it’s okay, because you know that he does - the ring he put on your finger a few months ago has it engraved on the inside of the band, and it’s not like he can take back the sweet things he said to you when he was on one knee now. 

and as such, with the way the day has gone you fully expect you to be taken to bed at night, laid down on the pillows and allowed to be a princess while he ravished your body with his hands and mouth. perhaps a small comment about how desperate you were, how wet he was making you, or something along those lines. 

he had other plans though, evidenced by the way he pushes you to your knees near the foot of the bed after he walks you into the bedroom instead of coaxing you into the sheets. 

“is my pretty girl ready for her dessert?” he asks, sliding a hand into your hair and scratching at your scalp, leaving you a bit overwhelmed. his hand sends zings of pleasure running through you, and you barely notice the hardness of the floor under your knees in favor of focusing on the way your head spins and your mouth begins to water. 

this was seungmin, after all. if you had learned anything about him in the years you’ve been together, it’s that you can’t really ever prepare for him - he was always going to catch you off guard, and you loved it. 

he unzips his pants slowly, each tiny metallic sound matching the drumbeat of your heart as he finally frees himself from his boxers and strokes his half-hard cock. his other hand leaves your head, resting just under your chin so he could thumb at your bottom lip. 

“can you get wet for me?” he asks, the most polite thing he’s said all day to you. you know he means your mouth, and you let your spit pool up in it, but you can’t help the way you begin to leak into your underwear too. he feeds you his cock centimeter by centimeter, letting you suckle on the top of it before sliding in until he reaches the back of your mouth - not enough to make you gag, but it’s a close thing. he knows your body in and out though, knows exactly how much is teetering on the edge of too much.

“slow,” he instructs, a little breathless as you start to hollow your cheeks around him. “you want to savor your dessert right? this is a special occasion, after all.”

you groan and your eyes flutter shut, and you let the weight of him rest on your tongue. his hands weave back into your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts shallowly in and out of your mouth. you let him have his moment for a minute, sinking into a floaty haze, but it’s not enough. 

it’s your birthday, and if you want to suck his goddamn cock then you will.

your eyes snap open as you begin to suck on him in fervor, a bit messy and wet but you know he likes it like that. you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock before swallowing him down, pulling noises out of him that he rarely lets out unless he’s caught off guard. you pull out every move, the dirtiest licks and flicks of your tongue accompanied by you humming around his length, and you know when he gets close by the way his knees buckle a bit and his hands tighten in your hair. 

he pulls you off of him with a hiss, panting as he he strokes himself off over you. his free hand cups your face and holds you right where he wants you, chin up so you're staring right into his eyes. you can see the pleasure take over his face and he whispers happy birthday, baby just as the splashes of his release coat your eyelids, the curve of your mouth, the bridge of your nose.

you’re both breathing hard as he calms down, removing his pants before helping you up your feet. he sets you onto the bed and kneads at your thighs with his big hands, leaning in to kiss you without a care in the world towards his come on your face. 

“you had your dessert,” he dances his fingertips into the waistband of your shorts, toying at the lacy material of your underwear. “now it’s time for mine.”

–

“i know you said that you were my dessert,” you yawn, much later, pushing your face further into his chest that you had repurposed as a pillow. “but you did get me a cake, right?”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #seungmin imagines #seungmin smut #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin imagines

[whiskersz]

Heyy! I hope you're having a good day. My fav hazbin character is Husk. Could you please do a ficlet where he and the reader have feelings for each other but are both nervous to admit it. Husk is having a bad day and maybe really stressed and the reader tries to comfort him? Maybe says something like "you're always a great listener for everyone one else, but you need someone to listen to you too". Lots of comfort, fluff, confessions, and love please! ♡♡ my heart aches for this sweet grumpy kitty!

Hey to you! This turned out a bit long, and maybe I did rush the end because I'm just...still not used to writing short fics, ahah. But hey, it's finished and I hope you enjoy it at least a bit!

Text divider by : cafekitsune

Husk x Reader - We found love in Hell

“I’m back!”

You announced, closing the entrance door of the Hotel behind you. You had gone out to run a few errands earlier in the day, and now that it was night the only thing on your mind was lying in bed and falling asleep.

Angel, already back from work and concentrated on his phone, waved at you tiredly; you decided to sit next to him on the couch after shooting a smile at Husk, who seemed grumpier than usual.

Albeit a bit lazily, you and Angel Dust started chatting for a bit, telling each other about how your day went and what you did. When the topic of the other residents of the Hotel came up, the spider demon lowered his voice to a whisper.

“I’ve got to say toots; Whiskers over there is in a bad mood today.” He revealed to you, making you perk up immediately.

“Oh, I did notice he didn’t seem up to a conversation, that’s why I didn’t bother him...” your gaze fell on his figure, all you could see was his back; he seemed to be busying himself with something. “You know if anything happened?”

Angel shrugged, then smirked at you slyly.

“Not sure, but I know of a few things you could try to cheer him up.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully before shaking your head.

“No thanks, I’ll pass. I’ll talk to him though, thank you for telling me.”

Angel knew very well of you and Husk’s crushes on each other, so he didn’t mind playing matchmaker sometimes. He guessed the best thing to do would’ve been to leave the two of you alone, so he stretched a bit before getting up and announcing that he was off to bed.

You told him goodnight, while Husk simply gave him a nod.

In all honesty, you felt a little bad going up to him for conversation now that you knew he wasn’t in the best mood, but you still did so in hopes of comforting him at least a little. When you sat at the counter, he finally turned around.

“Good evening Husk, how are you?” you faked ignorance and asked, resting your face on your hand. He fluttered his wings and nodded at you as a greeting, putting aside the cloth he had been using to clean the sink.

“Can’t complain. How about you? Want me to pour you somethin’?” he asked despite looking particularly beat, as Angel had warned you.

You shook your head.

“No, just wanted to, y’know... talk to you for a bit before going to bed. Are you sure you’re okay?” your warm smile admittedly made his cheek flush. He was glad that his fur could cover that up at least partially.

Concentrating on your question though, he gave you a deep sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. Just a couple things on my mind today, but who doesn’t go through that.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair; it was your turn to blush.

However you weren’t a fan of how vague he was being. You sighed, which made him turn towards you once again.

“It is common I guess. But even this morning you seemed troubled, so you know...you always listen to others, but it’s fine if sometimes you need to be listened to, too.”

Husk wasn’t one to have big reactions but, having been close for some time, you did notice his eyebrows raising a little at your statement. Still, you hoped he’d say something. When he didn’t, you continued to fill the silence.

“...Not to push you, of course. Maybe you want distractions, I can talk about my day or something...just, let me know how I can help now that I’m here, yeah?”

He took a deep breath, then leaned on the bar’s counter so he could be closer to you, copying your position with his head resting on his hand.

“Ya worry too much, really, I’m fine. Just had way too many interactions with...” he let out a sigh; Alastor, you guessed. It wasn’t surprising that he would be distraught after interacting with the demon he had lost his soul to.

He was pretty vague in his explanations of what happened too, but if he didn’t want to go too in depth about how he felt you were going to respect that. Eventually, the two of you noticed that it was getting late, so you decided to turn off the big lights in favour of smaller, dimmer ones that set a cosy atmosphere.

You sat comfortably on the couch, legs crossed as you listened to Husk speak about a lighter topic now; how everyone had been asking to mix way too complicated cocktails lately while he was already in a bad mood. You knew this wasn’t aimed at you as you either always asked for the same one or didn’t even order one at all, too busy dealing with errands for Charlie or yourself.

“...Thanks for listenin’, by the way.” He said suddenly, and you smiled at him.

“It’s not a problem, that’s what...friends are for.” You said hesitantly.

“Yeah, I s’ppose.”

Friends, you both thought, unbeknownst to each other. You and Husk had been friends for a while, always relying on each other when things got bad. Always managed to break through each other’s walls and get the other to talk about their deepest troubles.

It was clear to everyone at the Hotel that you two were very close, and saw the other in a very positive light, one that outshined the definition of ‘friend’; there was something more that you both wanted, but were too scared, perhaps because of past experiences, to go through with.

“Been a while since I sat with someone to talk about something until late at night.” Husk confessed, breaking your train of thoughts.

“It’s just because it’s me, I bet.” You said jokingly, yet boldly. He chuckled.

“Usually it’s the other way around. They talk, I listen. Feels nice to be listened to.”

Even though you were the listener in this case, he made sure to make you feel appreciated by basically confessing that there was nobody else he’d open up to. You admittedly felt too tired to conjure any insightful thought or answer, so you simply leaned against him; the sudden contact made his ears perk up, but he slowly got comfortable with it and cuddled closer to you himself.

“I’ll always listen to you, Husk.”

“I thought I lost the ability to love long ago;” you thought he was about to start another rant, so you slightly looked up at him to let him know he had your full attention; “Turns out my old heart was jus’ waiting for you to come along.” He finished, looking away.

You felt his wing tentatively reach to hug your side, so you shifted a bit to allow it to. It was warm, comfortable. Exactly how you felt around Husk.

Registering his words, the blush on your cheeks spread. This was his own way of confessing to you.

“I love you, too.” He let his head rest on the top of yours as you muttered those words nervously, as if it was a gesture meant to comfort you.

The next morning, Charlie had to contain a squeal as her and the rest of the residents of the Hotel found you cuddled up next to each other on the cough, sleeping soundly, wrapped in Husk’s wings as if they were a blanket.

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