#fics under 10k

[spaceprincessem]

i gave your name as my emergency phone call | 9k buddie fic | ao3

[or buck and natalia break up. buck drunk calls eddie when he's out alone]

He gets the name of the bar from Buck and hangs up, quickly punching in the address, and sighing in relief when his maps tell him it’s only fifteen minutes away. He barely has his coat shrugged onto his shoulders when he spots Marisol leaning against the archway. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she pierces Eddie with a fierce gaze. “Buck needs you.” It’s not a question, but the way she says it makes Eddie pause. The words are coated with exasperation and a little bit of anger. Maybe a hint of jealousy if Eddie thinks about it for too long. They both know what this means if Eddie walks out that door in the middle of their date night. “He’s hurt,” Eddie explains, though it sounds weak in the hot, twisted air between them, “and he can’t drive right now.” Marisol rolls her tongue over her teeth, nodding her head slightly as she looks down at the ground for a moment. “What about his sister?” She asks, eyes back on Eddie. “Or his almost brother-in-law. He can’t call Bobby,” she takes a step forward, arms still tight across her chest, “or Athena or all the other people in your tight little 118 circle.” Eddie stiffens as something hot and wicked licks up his spine. “Buck called—” Me. He cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. His voice sounds harsh and possessive and protective and not at all how it should when he’s talking to his girlfriend of all people.  But this is Buck. His Buck. And right now Buck needs Eddie. 

read the rest of ao3

tagging people who were interested @eddiebabygirldiaz @sibylsleaves @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @steadfastsaturnsrings @devirnis @monsterrae1 @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck @colonoscopys @weewootruck @idealuk @foxandstars @leothil

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #my brain is mush im sorry if i didn't tag u #also yes hello i can write things under 10k

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

Anachronistic Greetings

by SigniorBenedickofPadua — Read on AO3

Pairing: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Rating: Mature Words: 2900 Tags: Sleep Deprivation, Accidental Kissing, Professor Hob Gadling, First Kiss, Getting Together, Dream Sex, Middle English. Counter Sex, or counter-foreplay to be precise, Accidental Confession, Daydreaming, Feelings Revealed by Daydreaming

Summary:

Hob is sleep deprived. That's fine, it happens, he's used to it. It's just that when you're 600-something the centuries can start to blend together a bit when you're tired. Enough so, apparently, that when Dream pops by for a visit, Hob's muddled brain decides to greet him with a "Salve!" and a kiss on the lips like it's still 1389 and he's greeting any old friend and not the cosmic being he's secretly in love with in the year of our Lord 2023. It's a good thing Dream is understanding. Very understanding.

Hob stared down at the kitchen table he was sitting at, resting his head in his hands as he absently followed the pattern of the wood grain with unseeing eyes, mind occupied with thoughts of absolutely nothing at all. He could have been sitting there for anything between seconds and hours for all he knew when he suddenly blinked and realised that he had entered the kitchen to get something to eat. Probably. He was fairly sure he hadn’t eaten yet.

He shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of it and come back to the then and there. He had just gotten home from work, and he was going to have dinner. Right. Yes. Only problem was he hadn’t quite got to that point before spacing out and forgetting what he was doing due to the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink last night. He’d had to stay up late marking essays, after which his brain had just refused to shut off and stop thinking about Middle English syntax for long enough for him to fall asleep.

Actually, come to think of it, that was two nights ago. Had he been awake all of last night too? He thought he might have been, having been too tired to fall asleep because the human body was bloody stupid like that. He attributed the fact that he hadn’t simply collapsed in front of his students while lecturing to his experience marching for days without proper rest back when he was constantly fighting for or against one Plantagenet king or another. But just because his body had kept going through the day didn’t mean his brain had followed at the same pace.

He felt a little bad for his students, to be honest, because he doubted his lectures had been up to his usual standards. At one point, if he remembered correctly, he had slipped into Middle French for several sentences before realising it, and, while talking about how the printing press had contributed to standardising the vocabulary of the English language, he was pretty sure he had used the pronouns “I” and “we” a few too many times to be entirely advisable for someone who was keen on keeping their immortality a secret.

He blinked again. Food. Right. He’d gotten distracted thinking about why he was distracted in the first place. Maybe he should just give up and go straight to bed, to catch up. Or maybe he’d better stay awake and go to bed at a normal time so as not to fuck up his sleep schedule even more by going to sleep at five in the afternoon. Hm. Dinner first. Then decisions.

He had just gotten up from his chair with the intention of opening the fridge to see what his options were when he heard a knock on his front door. Seconds later, he heard it opening. Hob instinctively reached for a sword which no longer hung at his hip before realising that a burglar probably wouldn’t bother knocking before breaking in, and that he had, in fact, forgotten to lock the door behind him when he got home.

The door closed behind his visitor, and he heard a familiar voice call, “Hob?”

Ah, of course. Who else would just waltz into his flat without waiting to be let in? He supposed he should be grateful Dream had learned to knock at all instead of just travelling by sand straight to Hob’s living room as he had often done back when the two of them had first started spending time together outside their centennial appointments. A wide smile spread across his face as he made his way into the hallway and laid eyes on his old friend. Sleep deprivation or not, Dream was always welcome.

“Salve, my freend,” he greeted him, laying his hands on Dream’s shoulders and standing on tiptoes to reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. “Wel y-mette.” He turned and headed back towards the kitchen. “I was just going to figure out dinner. Can I get you anything?”

There was no response, but Hob hadn’t really expected much of one. Asking Dream if he wanted something to eat or drink was mostly just a habitual courtesy — he knew he rarely indulged in such things in the waking world. He opened the fridge and looked over its contents with his own needs in mind as he waited for Dream to catch up and join him in the kitchen, which took longer than expected. Settling on some leftover stew, he removed the tupperware from the fridge and wandered over to the breadbox on the counter, cursing when he realised he was out of trencher bread. Wait. No. Why the fuck would he use a trencher? He had plates nowadays. Christ, he needed to sleep.

“Is this style of greeting coming back into fashion?” he heard Dream ask from the doorway, and he tore his eyes from the breadbox he had been blindly staring at for just a bit too long to look up at his friend.

“Hm? What greeting?”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “You do not usually kiss me when I enter your home.”

If Hob’s brain had been moving slowly before, now it froze completely. “Kiss? I didn’t—” His short-term memory finally caught up with him and he felt suddenly faint. “Oh, God… I’m— Fuck, I’m sorry, Dream.” The ice-cold fear that had gripped his heart was somewhat lessened by the fact that Dream looked mildly amused rather than offended, and he buried his rapidly flushing face in his hands. “Christ, I didn’t mean to— Sorry, I’m really out of it today and I think my brain has been stuck in the wrong century the entire day. I was going for a friendly greeting and apparently chose something that would’ve been appropriate six hundred years ago — before, you know, kissing on the mouth like that had the, uh, intimate connotations it has today.”

“I am aware of the greeting customs of humans, past and present,” Dream said, and when Hob dared to look up again, he could see the corner of his friend’s mouth twitch slightly, “I was merely taken aback by the anachronism.”

Hob took that as confirmation that he was forgiven for his slip-up, and he allowed himself a slightly nervous chuckle to lighten the mood, trying very hard to push back the thought that he had actually kissed Dream. He now knew what those lips felt like against his own, after having fantasised about it for ages. And this is how he found out? Through an absent-mindedly archaic greeting that was over in a second? Fucking hell, Gadling, get a grip. He needed to invest in sleeping pills after this, to prevent anything like it to ever happen again.

“Well, still. Sorry. Wouldn’t have been appropriate even if this had been the 14th century, would it? We’re hardly equals — you know, with you being a literal king and all. Someone like me should have kissed the hem of your coat, or the ground at your feet, or something like that.”

Dream took a step closer to where Hob was leaning back against the counter. “You are not my subject, Hob Gadling. You are my friend. I would rather have you kiss me like an equal.”

And wasn’t that a thought? Hob tried to remind himself that Dream’s words were on the subject of platonic greetings in a historical context, but he was finding it very, very hard not to imagine him saying the same thing in a modern context — as an invitation. His eyes dropped down to Dream’s plump lips, which looked so much softer when turned up in fond amusement than when pursed in annoyance or fury. Quite against his conscious efforts not to, he recalled the way they had parted slightly in surprise when he had covered them with his own and how they had not been as cool as he had previously imagined them, but pleasantly warm and lush. He imagined they would feel even more so if Dream initiated a kiss instead of being surprised by one. Especially if he abandoned the platonic pretence and kissed Hob the way he had dreamt of for far longer than he cared to admit.

Dream’s lips moved, saying something that Hob didn’t quite register, but which at least made him realise that he had been staring rather rudely.

“Hm?” he said again, tearing his eyes away to meet Dream’s. They were darker and closer to him than they had been before. “Sorry, what?”

“You are sleep deprived,” Dream stated simply.

“How did you know?”

“I am Dream of the Endless. I know.” He stepped even closer to Hob, almost crowding him against the counter. “And, being half asleep as you are, your daydreams are far more vivid and harder to ignore than usual.”

“What— Oh.” Oh no… “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“No need to apologise,” Dream murmured. He was practically hovering over Hob at this point. “Unless…you did not mean it?”

His nose brushed lightly against Hob’s, and Hob forgot how to breathe. “Mean what?” he managed to squeeze out, dizzy with proximity to his oldest friend.

This close he could smell him. He could feel Dream’s breath (which he did not strictly need) dance over his lips when he spoke again, a low rumble which reverberated through Hob’s entire body and lit a fire in his belly.

“Do you wish me to stop?” Dream clarified, and there could be no question as to his meaning. Not when his body made contact with Hob’s, pressing him up against the counter, gently but insistently.

“No,” Hob breathed, half suspecting that he had, in fact, fallen asleep at the kitchen table and that this was a dream. But he had been friends with Dream long enough to be able to tell the difference between dreaming and waking, as well as how to tell if his friend was actually there in his dreams. As unlikely as this was, his feet were firmly planted in the Waking, even if his mind was at risk of straying dangerously close to the Dreaming in his current state. “No, I don’t.”

“Very well.” Dream’s voice was halfway between a purr and a growl as he surged forward, closing the remaining distance to slot their lips and bodies together.

Hob had been right. There was a world of difference between giving Dream a little peck on the mouth and being kissed by him in earnest. To say that sparks flew would be an understatement. It was more akin to being consumed but a wildfire, burning hot and fierce. Gone was the reserved stiffness his friend often exhibited in public. Now he sank his hands into Hob’s hair with passionate abandon and licked into his mouth like a man dying of thirst hoping to catch every last drop of water in his cup. He pressed himself close to Hob, slipping a knee between his legs and rolling his hips experimentally, obviously pleased when it wrung a moan out of Hob.

Hob’s hands flew up to Dream’s hips, finding their way beneath his stupid, elegant coat which he still hadn’t removed. He clutched at the fabric of his shirt, using it to pull his friend even closer, marvelling at the solidity of his thin body as he splayed a hand over his ribs and moved it in a caress around to his back. He could count every knob in his spine by touch, yes, but the muscles surrounding it were strong and firm and they danced beneath his hand as Dream reached down and lifted Hob onto the countertop like he weighed absolutely nothing — and fuck, if that wasn’t a turn on…

Hob retaliated by wrapping his legs around Dream’s lithe form and groaned when his friend rutted up against him. He was reasonably sure that Dream must have made himself taller than he’d been a moment ago for their groins to still be at the same height, but he had a hard time focusing on that when it felt so damn good to have Dream’s obvious erection rub against his own, even through far too many layers of clothes. 

“Fuck, Dream…” he gasped when Dream, a good while later, broke the kiss to instead mouth at the side of his neck, then up to nip at a sensitive earlobe, all while slipping his hands under the hem of his shirt to palm at longing skin. “Are you… Ah! Do you want to take this to the bedroom?”

He was proud of himself for managing the question without his voice trembling. Despite the fact that Dream had initiated this whole thing and was clearly as excited about it as Hob was, he still felt the half-irrational fear that any sudden moves or potentially offending propositions might send his friend running like he had the last time Hob had dared presume too much.

Dream hummed against the spot where Hob’s ear connected to his jaw and dragged his fingernails lightly down his back, sending a shiver down his spine. “A sensible idea. You are weary and need to rest.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Nevertheless, I think perhaps you ought to get some sleep. I can feel you yearning for the Dreaming, in mind and body alike.”

“For its ruler, maybe. I may be a bit tired, but I’d rather continue this than try and fail to go to sleep right now.”

He would never admit it, but a pang of anxiety shot through him at the thought of interrupting this at this point. He needed them to see it through, and to talk about it afterwards to figure out what the hell it meant. If they stopped now, if Dream left… Would they have the courage to bring it up the next time they saw each other, or would they dance around it for a few more centuries? He wasn’t sure he could bear that.

Dream pulled back enough to meet Hob’s eyes. His lips were red and puffy and sported an amused smile. “Hob, I shall join you in the Dreaming, naturally. I too am quite keen to finish what we have started.” He punctuated this with a roll of his hips which chased Hob’s fears away to make room for arousal. “As for falling asleep — there are certain benefits to keeping the King of Dreams as one’s lover. It will not prove an obstacle.”

Hob hardly heard anything he said after the word lover, which bounced around in his head like an intoxicating echo. “Well, then… Bringe me to bedde, louer myn,” he murmured, lifting a hand to push a strand of Dream’s wild hair behind his ear. It was just as soft as it looked.

His lover smiled and whispered, “Slepe, thanne, my biloued.”

Dream bent his head to place a gentle kiss on Hob’s forehead, and suddenly it was nigh on impossible to keep his eyes open. The last thing Hob was conscious of before sleep claimed him was his head slumping forward to rest on Dream’s shoulder. Then everything went dark and fuzzy.

***

When Hob next opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. He found himself in a room he did not recognise, but he knew it belonged to the Palace of the Dreaming. It was unclear whether he knew it because he recognised the stone the walls were built from, or the style of the lofty stained-glass windows, or because of the way you just knew things sometimes when you dreamt, but it hardly mattered. What mattered was that he was lucid, that he was in a bed, that he was naked beneath the sheets, and that Dream stood before him by the side of the bed, dressed only in a diaphanous black robe which was seemingly woven from pure shadow.

“Hello, Hob,” Dream rumbled, voice impossibly deep and sonorous here in his natural habitat. His eyes gleamed with starlight as he looked down at Hob.

“Please tell me I’m not currently asleep in a heap on my kitchen floor,” was what Hob managed to say after suppressing the urge to just whine and rip that horribly teasing robe off of Dream’s body.

“Of course not. I carried you to bed. The point was to ensure you got some restful sleep, which the floor is hardly suited for.”

“Oh, that’s the point of this, is it?” Hob asked with a breathless laugh, running his eyes down the neckline of the robe, which plunged dangerously low.

Dream smirked. “Among other things.” He placed a knee on the bed, and then, in an unnaturally smooth movement, he was seated across Hob’s hips, their bodies separated only by the gossamer fabric of the robe and the silky satin of the sheets.

“And what were those, again? Would you care to remind me?” Hob teased, reaching out to slide his hands up slim but powerful thighs.

“It would be my pleasure.”

That night, as Hob would later reflect, put every wet dream he’d had in his very long life to shame. The next morning, he woke up well-rested but starving, with a distinctly uncomfortable situation in his pants and a tupperware container full of spoiled stew waiting for him in the kitchen. That didn’t matter much, however, when he also woke up to find the King of Dreams in his bed.

#The Sandman fanfic #Dreamling fanfic #The Sandman #Dreamling #One-shot #my fic #Can you BELIEVE that I actually wrote something under 10k? #I certainly can't #It's a bit disorienting tbh

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Featured Fic: March 2024

A Patchwork Life by likerealpeopledo | @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3

T | 6K | Hawk/Tim | Hawk & Maggie | Canon Compliant | Origins of Tim's AIDS quilt square | Grief/Mourning | 80s Era

Hawk spends time in San Francisco after Tim's death in order to keep the promises he made at the gala.

The events take place in canon between Tim's death and Hawk's visit to the quilt in October 1987.

🍀🍀🍀🍀

It's been a little over a week since I first read this, and I'm still gutted. But in the best possible way. In the way that it will be a piece of writing that will stay with me for a very long time. It was so cathartic and such a beautiful way to process the loss of Tim and honor his memory. I don't really have the words to properly articulate how truly gorgeous this fic is, so I won't even try. We all know how the story ends for Tim, and as you can imagine from reading the summary and tags, this isn't the most light-hearted fic. However, there is very rewarding closure that makes the sad ending a bit happier and so much more fulfilling. This is a fic you definitely have to be prepared for... with lots of tissues. But it will be well worth every ugly tear, I promise! Please take time to read this fic if you haven't already, and be sure to leave kudos and comments when you do!

Original Fic Post

#ftficrecs #fellow travelers fic recs #fellow travelers fics #ftfics fic of the month #ftfics fic otm #under 10k #canon compliant #ftfics 80s era #fellow travelers #ftfics mar24

[whenyoucallmelover]

You Taught Me A Lesson (That Feelings Are Reckless)

by callmelover.

pairing: harry styles/louis tomlinson

chapters: 2/2. 5k.

tags: hurt/comfort, awkward roommates, protective louis (though he won't admit it)

After swallowing the Excedrin, Harry stays silent. The last place he wants to be right now is in the same room as Louis. The aura between the two of them had been uncomfortable from the get-go, but Harry has never wanted to escape it more than he does at this moment. Unfortunately, his shaky legs have made it clear that that won't be happening any time soon.

Dammit.

They were so close to having a normal interaction.

✷

Or the one where Harry and Louis live together but like to ignore each other... Until one day, they don't.

⭒ posted october 17, 2022.

#fics: mine #callmelover #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry fic rec #hurt/comfort #harry styles #louis tomlinson #harry and louis #harry is louis' baby #one direction #tattoo artist louis #bc that's hot #thelarriefics #hlficlibrary #under 10k

[snickerdoodlles]

say hello to my current wip, making assumptions, aka the fic about chay's truly impressive collection of monsterfucker sex toys. i'm banging my head against my desk as i work on one of the emotional scenes, so here's a ~1k preview of the first chapter because i like validation 😂

The thing about fucking up a lot is that you get really good at identifying the little voice in your head yelling hey moron amongst all the alarm bells. It’s just that, if you’re Kim, the little voice can scream as loud as it likes, but it won’t change the fact that the stupid decision is so often the only decision available.

I, Kim thinks as he picks the lock on Chay’s door, am very bad at lying to myself.

It’s just, Kim is nosy. He doesn’t know how not to be, not with a childhood of secrets that kill and a father who lies more than he cares. So, when Kim had snooped through the family’s finance accounts and happened upon Chay’s bank statements, which showed no activity beyond Papa adding an allowance for months and then abruptly incurred multiple pages of mysterious payments totalling to several thousand baht in less than two weeks, which transactions could only be less obvious if they were plastered in neon DRUGS HERE! signs, well. What was Kim supposed to do?

…Not break into Chay’s room and scour the place for secret drug stashes is the correct answer, but Kim is so far past that now. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do when he finds the stashes of drugs--probably throw them out, except then he’d have to tell Chay, because people rearranging your rooms and throwing out your stuff behind your back is the worst, and he won’t do that to Chay. But he’s also been trying to respect Chay’s fuck off boundary line, no matter how much it hurts, so Chay’s going to hate him twice as much for this, fuck, he’s really thrown himself into a right pickle this time--

He should turn back now. Before he makes this worse.

Then Kim thinks of Chay collapsed in his own pile of vomit, or passed out with blood dripping from his nose, or pale with a needle still sticking out of his arm, because Kim knows the shit dealers cut their products with, because Papa had wanted him to take over the gritty side of the business, and then Kim’s inside Chay’s rooms without a second’s hesitation.

Chay’s room is a mess. Not the type of mess Kim had liked to drop in on, back when he’d surprise Chay at home and get treated to Chay frantically tidying the place while making half a dozen excuses for why Kim couldn’t come over, despite knowing Kim was watching him clean through the front window, and then finally invite Kim in and pout at him until he did something nice to make up for his bullying. This mess isn’t small piles of debris and laundry and dirty dishes--it’s several unpacked boxes growing dust in a corner, a small hamper of clean clothes infront of an empty closet, a collection of dirty glasses atop a stack of textbooks before the nightstand. If Kim hadn’t known this is Chay’s room, hadn’t secretly triple checked the security of this wing and Chay’s position to it obsessively when Chay had first moved in, he might’ve thought this the room for one of Papa’s infrequent guests. It’s…unsettling, to see a space Chay spends so much time in be so empty of his presence.

…He’s wasting time.

The rooms in this wing are all outfitted with the same basic setup: bed in the middle, oversized nightstand between it and the corner, lamp and chair in another, entrance to a full bath and toilet in the last. Usually, long term guests customize their rooms into anything besides a soulless box, but Chay hasn’t even tacked up so much as a postcard on the wall. The only thing unique is the large wooden chest with a well-loved blanket tossed over it, so that’s where Kim starts. It’s too obvious as a hiding place, and Kim almost wants to scold Chay or give him lessons on how to hide shit he wants to stay hidden, but…it’s the one piece Chay’s chosen in this room. Chay could just grab a backpack and this chest and disappear--anything he wants safe will be in it.

…The chest isn’t even locked, and Kim returns to the urge to go find and grab Chay by his shoulders and shake him until he remembers something about situational awareness, or keeping secrets, or distrusting people, or a lot of other basic caution measures, except Kim’s one of the things Chay’s currently keeping himself safe from, so that definitely won’t do him any favors. Kim settles for closing his eyes and sighing deeply through his nose.

Then he opens the chest to reveal…tentacles. Literally dozens of plastic tentacles.

What?

Kim stares down at the chest full of…plastic octopus legs? Or, at least, the tips of several of them, in all varieties of colors, from coral pink to a deep, shimmery blue. Kim even grabs one that glistens like oil slick when he moves it in the dim sunlight. They all vary in shape too, some are more sleek with just tiny bumps and ridges in different patterns, some with thick bases and thin tips and others with thin bodies and flared heads, others with strangely realistic suckers that yield under his finger tips, and then even more underneath those that look far too strange to be called proper tentacles. Kim pulls out a deep green one with a cute flower at the base and a body that curls aggressively, another that’s mostly straight but has the look of chewed bubble gum, and yet another that’s shorter than the rest but twice as thick and covered in bulging bumps.

It’s not until Kim finally pulls out a toy covered in flared ridges, scales, and other alarming geometry, but also distinctly phallic, does his brain finally accept that all of these are dildos.

Chay…Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Kim’s brain gives up. His face is too hot for him to think, his ears are ringing with what he’s quite sure is literal steam coming directly off his brain. He keeps pulling out more new toys, unable to stop. There’s one that looks like a tongue, with twice as many veins and a bumpy texture that is much too real for the scraps of his sanity. An alarmingly long and bendy tube with a pretty rainbow gradient and a disturbing number of knobs. A dark blue dildo that seems strangely plain until it lights up with half a dozen glittery rings when he accidentally squeezes the base too hard.

Pretty, Kim thinks, then is so startled by the sound of his own thoughts he misses the sound of the door clicking open behind him.

“Kim?”

Kim actually startles, whacking his knee on the chest of sex toys, and comes face-to-face with Chay.

…While sitting in a half-circle of monster dicks.

Chay’s eyes dart from him, to the toys on the floor, to the chest, and blushes all the way to his ears. “Kim?”

#kinnporsche #fic: making assumptions #kimchay #me: i'll write this if i think it'll stay under 10k #first chapter alone: is ~7k #draft: is well over 20k already #me: am not anywhere near done #hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha #who thought this was a good idea #anyways please wish me luck as i work thru this emotional hurdle aaaaaaaa #if i get enough of the beginning done ima start posting at the end of the month #fingers crossedddddd

[emsuemsu]

Harry Potter's biggest fan by @gnarf

Words: 9,718

Ever since Scorpius heard about Harry Potter for the first time from one of his friends, one could say that he was his biggest fan.

So naturally, it would be the thing he needs to talk about while visiting his grandparents for Sunday dinner.

Draco's father could not hold back the comments on why he had to go through this again, and Scorpius understood just enough to know that his father actually knew Harry Potter in person. That's when the pestering started.

Not much later and Draco found himself face to face with Potter, all thanks to his son.

So fucking adorable. I should read more fics with (Harry's and Draco's) kids, amazing. So cute. And I love the Malfoys in this fic. Like all I want is a supportive Narcissa and I also got kind-of-almost-maybe-supportive Lucius as well? Bless

#under 10k #quidditch player harry #kid fic #single dad draco #drarry #drarry fic rec #my rec

[robthegoodfellow]

If you want to see the boys working through their feelings while wrangling Max and El as adorable kindergarteners thennnn I really rec this fic

#harringrove #love the dynamic here #finding excuses via babysitting to hang out #classic #under 10k #rated m #fic rec

[maenecoon]

WE'VE DONE IT FOLKS

6.9K WORDS

(and im only close to 80% complete??? i think??? please send help)

#kimchay #kimchay au #mae's kimchay kidnapping au #i wanted it to end at 6.9k #but it might extend a little #probably still under 10k tho #my plan with this fic was a good 5k #how did this happen

[dykefever]

have started writing a little something for christmas .... first line s is being so so pathetic :-)

#sat down and wrote 1300 words this afternoon i forgot how easy and fun a bit of fic can be .... gonna try keep this under 10k maybe ... #maybe 15k hmm. we'll see i need to flesh it out a bit !! #laura says some things #r/s

[no-psi-nan]

Anticipated reactions to current WIP:

what a cute idea!

awww so sweet!!

i think i hauve covid

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

literally how did u make that hot

LOL

#nopsi fic #fic vagueposting #I'm about 1.5k into it. anticipate it being under 10k 🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾 trying to write it as efficiently as possible lol #probably rated M. citrus scented but no lemons lol

[imperiuswrecked]

sometimes I feel like leaving the comic fandom forever, just fucking off and immersing myself in my books and never opening twitter/tumblr anything ever again, but then I actually finish writing that part of a fanfic I thought was impossible and I'm like, why was I so dramatic? why was I one click away from deleting my blogs and falling off the face of the earth? it feels like the equivalent of "oh I just ate and now I know why I was so upset before, I was just hungry" but for writing.

#if this fic comes in under 10k just know that I tried to finish this so many times and im still working on it #writer woes #my rambling

[whenyoucallmelover]

your first words (have yet to be said)

by callmelover.

pairing: harry styles/louis tomlinson

words: 1.7k

tags: momrry!!, mpreg harry, supportive louis, insecurity, self acceptance struggles

Harry brings in a shaky inhale, his throat thick with withheld tears. “Just, when I was at Mitch and Sarah's… It was, like- it sounded so lovely.”

“What did?”

“Mama."

✷

Or, the one where Harry just wants to be a mom and, luckily, he picked someone who was supportive.

⭒ posted february 17, 2023

#ok i know mpreg isnt for everyone but… #i wanted to give it a go? #so here it is! #fics: mine #callmelover #larry fic #larry fanfic rec #larry fanfic #larry fic rec #hlficlibrary #thelarriefics #harry styles #louis tomlinson #under 10k #larry stylinson #momrry #mpreg #insecurity #harry is louis' baby

[beyondxmeasure]

as seen on tumblr

Just a Little Taste Before I Go (4k) Just before showtime, Harry has a bit of nervous energy and needs help to settle himself before he and the boys hit the stage in Milwaukee. Louis knows just the place.

Or… The one where Harry and Louis just need to... ahem, blow off some steam in a storage closet and wind up dabbling in some unplanned kink exploration—and we find out what really happened before they took the stage that night of OTRA tour… you know the one.

I Was Born like This, Don’t Even Gotta Try (2k) Louis and Harry return home after a long day of promo events and cocktail parties. They’re both exhausted, but that doesn’t stop Louis from keeping a promise he made to Harry in the limo earlier that night.

A certain geometric Gucci suit might have played a part in helping Louis’ keep that promise.

Near You Now (8.5k) When a leaky bathroom sink turns into a minor flood, Harry has to act fast. So, he thinks of the closest (and most unlikely) way to find home repair help… Grindr. The last thing he expects from this quick fix is to find anything long-term.

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#as seen on tumblr series #smut fics #under 10k words #cyantific fics

[spirallingstarcases]

when ur at that point of the brainrot where all that satisfies the worms in ur head is scrolling the ao3 fic list and thinking longingly of that one fic that got u into the whole mess and wishing u could read it for the first time all over again

#help me #i have racked up an impressive 3h on ao3 and read a grand total of 2 whole fics that were both under 10k #spispeaks

[emsuemsu]

Necro-romance by @thehoneybeet

Words: 8,895

The first time Draco kills Potter, it's by accident.

Another dead dove and jesus mary and joseph this was beautiful, dark, twisted and I loved it. Def not my kink but it was phenomenal

#under 10k #dead dove #drarry #drarry fic rec #my rec

[renshengs]

happy wip wednesday! i am writing fanghua

#“what isn’t slow burn but FEELS like slow burn?” #i am trying to keep this fic under 10k but each time i say that i curse myself into making it longer #fanghua #mysterious lotus casebook #sheng says stuff #li lianhua #fang duobing