#except rated G because of you know who

[legoflowers]

i desperately need ideas for how to decorate my graduation cap 😭😭😭😭

#something along the lines of #fuck this school #i hated highschool #also im leaving this stupid city #except rated G because of you know who #extremely open to suggestions #i am encouraging suggestions #even terrible ones #my ask box is open #photo inspiration or otherwise #if i had any interests (tv shows/movies/etc) id do something off of that but i dont so #bUt NAZNeeN yOU DOnT nEed tO deCoRate YOur caP #shut up ok let me have this

[norrisleclercf1]

Lando's Replacement

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Rating: G

Words: 765

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Could you do a mini lando new part where Aiden starts karting and lando is nervous about it thanks love your writing

Warnings: None, just fluff

Mini Lando Series

A/N: Aiden is 8, Caleb is 5 and Daniel is 3

"I'm not built for this stress, Y/n," Lando whispers, staring at your son Aiden. You can't help but roll your eyes at your husband. After all the years he spent giving you stress, he's the one who can't handle it? Drama queen.

"Really? Now you know how I've felt for the past 15 years." Lando grimaces as Aiden moves around his new kart, bumping his shoulder with yours, ensuring everything is in order. "Daddy? How do I start it?" Lando gives a wobbly smile to his little boy. Except he's not so little anymore.

At 8 years old, Aiden has fallen in love with karting and has spoken about following in his father's footsteps. "Let me show you." Lando straddles the kart and turns the ignition. The kart rumbles and then sputters to life. "Cool!" Aiden yells, not even waiting for Lando to get out of the way before he pops himself into the seat.

"Mommy, look!" Aiden can't hide his excitement while Lando looks down at the kart with horror. "Can't believe my Dad and Mum allowed me to do this." He whispers, grabbing Aiden's own crash helmet. "Lando, he's going to be fine. All he's doing is learning how to drive it, not racing." Covering your husband's shaky hand.

Lando has always been protective, especially of Aiden. After all the trouble you two went to get pregnant, it was hard on Lando to see his firstborn become a person and one that wanted to join karting. "He's safe. You had McLaren build his helmet and the kart. Plus you oversaw all of it. He's safe." Lando nods, stepping back from the kart as Aiden slides the helmet on.

"Well, looks like Lando has got some competition now." You don't even have to turn to know who it was. "Mommy, what's A doing?" Oscar stands next to you, holding your youngest, Daniel, and the hand of your second, Caleb. "A is learning to drive a kart like Daddy used to." Explaining what Aiden was doing to Caleb was hard sometimes because whatever Aiden was doing, Caleb wanted to do it, too.

"Can I join?" Right on time, smiling, you push his curly hair back. "Not yet, you're far too small. When you're 8 and still want to try it, we can." Oscar chuckles, seeing Aiden zip off. "Aiden! Brakes!" Lando yells. You cover your snort, seeing your husband chase after your laughing son. "He'll have grey hairs when this is over." Oscar adjusts little Daniel on his hip.

"Good, it'll humble his ass. He puts me through hell whenever he drives. He'll finally understand why I'm just as exhausted as him by the end of a race." Caleb giggles, wanting to run after his father, but you hold him close. "Lando has been dreading this. When Aiden first asked him, I thought he'd faint." Oscar smiled at his old teammate, having moved to Red Bull after his 4th season, and was in a tight battle with Lando, Charles, and Max for a WDC.

"Mommy, look how fast I'm going!" Aiden yells, hitting the gas and whipping his head back. You wince seeing it, but the rings of Aiden's laughter ease your worries. "Aiden, please!" Lando yells, stopping before you, gasping for air and sweat lining his forehead. "You're getting old." Oscar quips. Lando looks up, glaring at the Aussie. "I'm not old, just aging. Like fine whiskey." Oscar just rolls his eyes. "Your son is doing donuts." Lando takes off again, leaving Caleb cackling, watching his father.

"Maybe we should get Max or Carlos to teach Aiden?" You ask Oscar, but he shakes his head no. "He might be freaking out, but he's loving this. It's a memory they'll both look on fondly." Aiden laughs at the sound of the engine cut off as Lando scoops his oldest up.

The image of them laughing, Lando lecturing him with no anger as Aiden just giggles. "Yes, Daddy," Aiden says, his little body wobbling as his helmet makes him look like a life-size bobblehead. "Did you have fun?" Aiden nods, your fingers working quickly to get the helmet off. "It was so much fun. Daddy said we can return with Uncle Carlos, Max, and Oscar!" Aiden jumps around.

"I would love that." Oscar bends down, ruffling Aiden's hair. "Yes! With you teaching me, I can replace Daddy at McLaren." He laughs, and Lando's eyes budge out. The thought of Aiden driving in F1 was enough to kill him. "Y/n, this payback, isn't it?" He whispers, you just smirk. "Oh, sweet, sweet revenge, darling." Kissing his cheek.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #formula one #f1 scenario #f1 fluff #mini lando series #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #dad!lando #dad!lando norris #lando norris series

[lingerina]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐁𝓐𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝓦𝐒 ／ julie han

➛ g!p maid julie x fem!reader ➛ 847 words !!! adultery, creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms ➛ you have confronted your husband about checking out the maid, and now you confront the maid. ➛ A/N happy belated new year? lol i’ve been rediscovering some hobbies lately, hence writing has been on the back burner again. but i’ve updated the list of women i write for. if you have seen julie doing that part in ‘nobody knows’, then you’ll understand how i was possessed to write this. those clips have graced my tiktok fyp and ig explore page multiple times. i just had to. 😮‍💨

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You’ve heard of the stories where a family will hire a young maid or nanny to care for the kids and the house while the parents work. Nannies aren’t needed because you don’t have kids, but you still have pets and a massive house that needs to be cared for. Hence the hiring of a maid who urgently needs some quick cash while she searches for bigger jobs.

Julie Han is a young woman straight out of college.

Straight out of a magazine too.

With the looks of a doll and the charm of a girl next door, Julie can easily have anyone wrapped around her finger.

Your cat, who’s wary of strangers, immediately took a liking to her. Your friends who have come over and met her have asked for her to watch their kids or animals as well. As envious as you are of the attention she gets, you can’t help but be one of the victims of her spell too.

You just can’t be heinous to someone who’s nice and goes the extra mile for your pets.

The stares from your husband that lingers a little too long on her don’t go unnoticed though. It’s hard to decipher Julie’s body language when she catches his gaze but you confront them separately because things will only escalate if you dismiss everything that is deemed small and insignificant. Some people masquerade their intentions well behind a blank or stone cold face, so you can never be too safe.

Your husband denies staring but Julie is more truthful.

Except you had it all wrong.

Julie’s hand is tightly clamped over your mouth, muffling your moans and cries as her cock hits in all the right places. The confrontation has led to you being shoved onto the bed and your flimsy loungewear being torn off by the woman who actually had eyes on you. You can’t risk your husband hearing the maid fucking his wife’s brains out as he’s showering right above her bedroom, but she knows how to wield what she has—a feat that he has yet to achieve. 

The guilt lingers in your chest but your cunt drips for her. The sheets are soaked in your essence, courtesy of her skillful mouth and fingers that wouldn’t stop bringing you to orgasm. The more you try to persuade her to stop, the harder she goes on you.

Because you both know that you don’t want her to stop.

The water cuts off, leaving the residence to be engulfed in silence. The smacks of hips clashing with every fervent thrust is like a pin dropping, causing the tightness in your chest and the pit of your stomach to swell. Your clammy hands clutch at the crumpled sheets beneath you, your walls closing in on her as she fucks you harder. You don’t have the conscience to stop her because god, you want this.

You need this.

She grins, her long hair curtained over your face as she hovers closer to you.

“You think I want your lame husband?,” she snickers.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your back arches.

“You clearly don’t want him either.”

There is no cue given, but her demeaning words bring you to ecstasy. Your eyes roll back when her thumb on your pulsing clit works you into overdrive. Your body spasms beneath her, tremors coursing through your limbs as you gush around her cock, further soiling the sheets. You can vaguely hear your husband calling for you in the kitchen but all you can focus on is Julie’s cock drilling you, and the filthy squelches of your cunt accepting the abuse.

Your heart rate picks up as his voice gets progressively louder but she is clearly unbothered. She has other priorities to fill.

Like you.

She buries her face in your neck. With a whine and a tremble, you shudder as warmth fills you. A shallow thrust pushes her release deeper, reaching depths that can taint and break you—just as she intends to.

You sink back into the mattress with a quiet sigh when she pulls out. Your head feels at the mess that you’ve both caused—figuratively and literally. 

The man that you have sworn your heart and life to is on the other side of the door, never expecting his wife to cheat on him with their maid. You have committed the very act that you swore you would raise hell about, and a part of you feels shameful about the hypocrisy.

On the other hand, Julie is proud of her work. She grins as her cum seeps out of you: a testament to prove that the man is not always wanted.

“You don’t need him,” she taunts as she slides back into you, harder than ever.

Your eyes widen as she raises your legs and folds them over your chest, testing your flexibility.

“This pretty pussy is mine.”

Your mouth falls open after she bottoms out.

“And she clearly agrees.”

Weak. Shameful. Needy. 

You can’t argue with her. You can only accept that you’re terribly wrong.

#girl group smut #girl group imagines #kiss of life smut #kiss of life imagines #kiof smut #kiof imagines #julie han smut #julie smut #julie han imagines #julie imagines

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: no, you’re the monster

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: G

genre: angst. like super angst.

pairing: alastor x reader

summary: As the hotel has gained notoriety in Heaven, after more souls are redeemed, an idea of allowing those at the hotel to talk to their Heavenly family is put in place. The only thing is Alastor has never even once, tried to use it to talk to his mom. What’s the worse that can happen when he does use it as you offer the idea up to him?

As the hotel gained notoriety and after a few more souls had been redeemed, Heaven started to finally collaborate with Charlie on redeeming sinners. One of these ways was for sinners to have a weekly call via a special portal to talk with their loved ones up in heaven. Which Angel and Alastor likened to prison. Charlie didn’t care though because it was “progress”.

The idea though, was to create a connection in heaven that sinners would want to work towards. Most of the hotel patrons and staff used their calls weekly. You remember Angel’s first call talking to Molly as he cried realizing she was up there and hearing her sobbing, thanking him for protecting her in life. Encouraging him to do better so that she could hug him. Needless to say, after that call Angel gave up just about everything and really set forward on a path to redemption.

The only person in the whole hotel who hadn’t used these portals were yourself and Alastor. Your whole family had been awful to you save for your sister and she was still alive. You had checked. Alastor on the other hand, you had heard him mention his mom. He talked about her fondly and made her special jumbalaya on occasion. You figured that he would use the portals to talk to her, but he never did. So, one night when sleep was evading you again, you found a chance to ask as you were sitting in the lounge reading and everyone had gone to bed.

“Another late night where sleep’s tender hold evades you my dear?” Alastor said, appearing on the couch across from you. You jump a bit and chuckle.

“You know me too well Al.” You say and put your book down. “How was your day?” You ask him, as he materializes a book to read. You remember the first time you asked him how his day was, he asked you why you wanted to know. You had to explain you were being nice and it was something friends did. He questioned you on your use of the term friends but let it slide.

“It was well enough. I took a trip over to Cannibal Town. Rosie says hello.” He chuckled. He had introduced you to Rosie after you wouldn’t stop begging him to come with to Cannibal Town. You wanted to see more of the Pride Ring but it was scary, up until traveling to the hotel, you stayed in your apartment mostly. Except for work down the street. So, why wouldn’t you want to go to Cannibal town when you had scary dog privileges with Alastor?

“Awww, really? I love that. I’ll have to come with you over there soon, if you don’t mind of course.” You say, dog earring your book page so you don’t loose it. Alastor scoffs seeing you do that.

“Why you choose to ruin books is beyond me.” He mutters. “And of course you may, Rosie may have my head if I didn’t say yes.” You nod.

“How else am I supposed to save my place Alastor?” You ask him.

“With a bookmark.” He explains, conjuring one up and it floats over to you, his magic opens your book, smooths out the dog ear and then places the book mark near the spine. You roll your eyes.

“With how you treat books I am sure you are devastated to know that the library of Alexandria was burned to the ground.” You say, your voice monotone, closing the book.

“Absolutely devastated.” Alastor grins and then goes to reading his book. You sigh, and ready yourself to ask him the question you’ve been wanting to for a while.

“Hey Al?” You ask quietly.

“Hmm?” He murmurs not looking up from his book.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise not to get mad at me?” You say. He looks up at you, his eyes scrutinizing you as he motions for you to continue.

“So, today was portal day for everyone. And I’ve seen everyone use the portal to talk to loved ones in Heaven, but I’ve never seen you use it. And the way you talk about your mom… Don’t you want to talk to her?” You ask, looking up and your eyes widening as a darkness falls on his face. “I’m sorry, I was just curious. I can leave you alone as I think I’ve overstepped.” You say starting to get up.

“Sit.” Alastor says, a tentacle appearing and pushing you back down. “You’re… fine. I just don’t think my darling mother wants to see her darling son… like this.” He says motioning to himself.

“But if she loved you and you her-“ You start, being cut off by Alastor.

“She was the only one to love me in life.” He whispered.

“Exactly.” You say and gently cross over to his couch sitting next to him. “Wouldn’t you think she’d want to see you again, regardless?” You say earnestly.

“Well, I suppose…” Alastor starts.

“And would it not help you to have a conversation with her?” You go on.

“I’m not being redeemed dear.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“No, I know your sentiments on that. But wouldn’t it be good to talk to her. Not to encourage redemption, but just to catch up?” You say. “If it were my sister, I would love that. I know when she dies I’ll be doing that, I don’t plan on being redeemed, because I want to stay here and help with the hotel. But I’d still want to hear her voice again.” Alastor sighs and looks off, you can see his jaw tighten.

“I apologize if I’ve prodded too much. I can go if you’d like.” Wanting to remind him you could give him space but a small part of you realizing this was good progress as he hadn’t freaked out on you yet. You celebrated the small victory.

“Maybe I will put my name down for next week my dear.” Alastor acquiesced.

“If you wanted to do it now while everyone is sleeping you can.” You smile and hold up the portal key. “The portals stay open until midnight. They started doing that because Charlie and Emily talk a lot.”

Alastor looked at you, his eyes wide. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can even leave the room if you’d like me to. Or we can wait it’s up to you.” Alastor breathes and it’s like watching a war be fought on someone’s face with the emotions running through his eyes.

“Would you stay with me?” He asks, sitting up and fixing his suit jacket and ears, taking a breath.

“Always.” You whisper and his eyes widen. He nods at you.

“You sure about this?” You ask one more time. “You can say no and I’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”

“No, go ahead.” Alastor breathes. You stand up and look forward. You place the key in the air turning it and hearing a click. As the portal opens, a directory is pulled up.

“What was your mom’s name?” You ask, waiting.

“E-Evangeline. Altruist.” Alastor says almost breathless. You find her and look back at Alastor.

“One more time, I’m making sure, you want to do this?” You ask holding your hand to him. He takes it and stands up.

“I wouldn’t have accepted if I wasn’t sure.” Alastor says shortly. Giving off his confident air but his eyes were unsure.

“Okay. I can pull the plug at anytime too. Just let me know.” You press the name and the screen brightens and then Evangeline comes into view. Alastor gasps, his eyes wide and his hand squeezes yours.

“Evangeline Altruist?” You ask as she looks down at you. The portal must have appeared on a table.

“Yes, who is this?” she asks confused. You explain what your name is and that this portal allows those in Hell to communicate with loved ones in heaven. You explain that there is someone who would like to talk to her and does she accept the call. She does and you step out of the way and motion for Alastor to step in frame. He breathes and slowly does so, seeing his mother for the first time in who knows how long. There’s a gasp from his mother as she murmurs out his name.

“Hi Mama.” He whispers. The radio effect gone and a southern sounding accent in his voice as he talks to her.

“Alastor, is that you? You’re in hell? Truly?” His mother cries.

“I-Yes I am. I do miss you dearly.” He says, looking almost ashamed, his ears pin back on his head.

“I had heard the rumors… But I never thought my boy… What have you done Alastor?” She asks, her face twisting. “I don’t even recognize you from the man you were. The man I knew.”

“Mama, please, I-“ Alastor starts his eyes desperate, as he flits over to you and back to his mom. Your own heart shattering. You hold out your hand and he grabs it like a life line.

“No. You are no son of mine. I do not recognize you.” Her voice turns cold, your eyes widen and Alastor’s eye brim with unshed tears. “After everything… this is what you become? A monster?” The disgust in her voice is unbearable as Alastor bows his head and tears fall silently down his cheeks. You on the other hand see red.

“Now, just a damn minute here.” You say stepping back into view and shielding Alastor, still holding his hand.

“This is none of your business, girl.” Alastor’s mother exclaims, anger in her eyes.

“It became my business when you decided to unleash your bullshit on your son with me here. This was my idea, having him come talk to you, because out of everyone here at the hotel, he hadn’t made any contact with the woman who he holds in such high regard. So i figured, you held him in the same regard.” You start and get cut off.

“I loved my son, in life and in death but what he has become is worst than Lucifer himself.” Evangeline continued on. You felt your hand shaking with the strength of Alastor’s quiet sobs.

“No. Nope. That’s where you are wrong. Alastor has worked at this hotel night and day to help people be redeemed. He protects this hotel from those that wish it harm, he protects the patrons and Lucifer’s daughter Charlie. He is genuine, and while he has made a numerous amount of wild missteps in life and in death, he is trying to be better. I see it, the staff at the hotel sees it, his friends see it. And if you choose not to know him or you care not to get to know him, that is entirely your loss. He is not the monster, you are.” You say as you pull out the key, and start to end the portal. “Don’t call for him either. If he decides he wants to actually talk to you again, it will be his choice.” You say as the portal closes and the last words you can hear are ‘I’m sorry.’

“A little too fucking late for that.” You murmur pocketing the key. You turn and your heart breaks seeing Alastor’s tears paired with a smile.

“You don’t have to smile with me you know that right? Nothing I know about you would I ever use as a weapon against you.” You say as you cross over to him slowly, looking for any signs that he didn’t want comfort. Even though you felt like the last person who should be allowed to do so as this was your idea. You reach up and caress his cheek, wiping away tears that continued to spill.

“Alastor, I am so so sorry.” You say, tears coming to your own eyes. “I should have never suggested… I am so sorry.” You say again, bringing him down as he willingly folds into your arms.

“Can you take us to your room?” You ask, knowing he would never let any show of real emotion happen out here. He nods and suddenly you’re in the middle of his bed that has been moved into the forest he added in his room. You gather him to you and he sobs, his head in the crook of your shoulder and neck, as he grips onto you for dear life. There’s something even more heart wrenching as all walls fall and you can hear his natural accent, no radio effect at all, through broken words of ‘I’m sorry’, ‘She hates me’ and ‘I’m a monster’. His shadows darkening the space and the one shadow that always followed him looking so distressed.

“Alastor, if she can’t see the good in you then that is her own blindness. Darling, I can see it. Charlie sees it. You have changed from when you first got here. Hurt people, hurt people. And I think you’ve been hurt for a long while. It’ll take time, but I ain’t going anywhere. You’re not a monster to me.” You assure him as his sobs somehow become even worse hearing you. You gently rock him back and forth, and look up at the sky he produced for the forest. A perfect replica of the night sky on Earth.

“When I was back on earth in my 20’s, my sister would get upset and would go out to the roof. Anytime I found her there, I’d hold her and tell her stories of the stars. Do you want me to do that?” You ask. Wanting to take Alastor’s mind off of everything. You feel him nod and you smile slightly, pressing a kiss to his head, feeling him stiffen at the affection and hug him tighter.

“So there’s this group of stars that makes up a virgin maiden that they named Virgo. Many people say that Virgo’s constellation represents Persephone, the daughter of the Greek Goddess Demeter. Persephone in some stories was kidnapped by Hades, Lord of the Underworld. Demeter’s grief at loosing her daughter, abandoned her post as Earth Goddess, which caused crops to wither and the earth to grow cold.” You recounted one of your sisters favorite tales. Feeling Alastor’s cries fade and his body relax. “Because of this Zeus ordered Persephone to be put back on Earth, but along her travels she mustn’t eat anything.” You continue, gently wiping the tears off Alastor’s face with your oversized shirt. He doesn’t protest and just looks up at you, his eyes rimmed red but the self hatred you saw before not as prominent. You smile at him while you finish. “That’s why Hades gave her six pomegranate seeds, which she ate. Meaning that she would spend six months of the year with Hades and six months with her mother.” You feel Alastor sigh, and you think this is when he will get up and pretend none of this happened, fortifying those walls again. That doesn’t happen. He draws you closer to him, his body laid over yours and his head resting on the left side of your chest where your heart was.

“Tell me another.” He requests, not looking up at you but looking out into the forest. You smile and glide your fingers through his hair, stopping to pet his ears every now and again as you begin telling the story of the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, astronomy stories being whispered well into the night until you both were fast asleep with a blanket Alastor had pulled up over you both.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor/reader #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor angst #alastor altruist

[pinktom]

i was smeared on twitter! xD

This morning, I was delighted with a series of fascinating screenshots.

I'm being smeared on Twitter! By someone I don't know, who hasn't even read Lover's Spit, because I do not want to spoil aspects of my own fic.

And it didn't stop there, friends!

Obviously you can tell by the "18 Likes" there were at least 19 people outing themselves as haters. 😔

Let's be clear: if you're twiggered 👉👈 by seeing Tom Riddle bottom, block me and move on

Not because I'm out here publishing smut left and right (I'm not even a smut writer), but because there is absolutely no way you could possibly enjoy my content if you're a fixed shipper.

Is it about who tops and who bottoms? I don't know. Really, at least half of the time, I prefer top!Tom. My enjoyment of a fic is not contingent on whether one character or the other gets dicked down. Of my top favorite fanfics that I can think of offhand, Tom doesn't even bottom in any of them.

That said—I am drawn to stories where Tom Riddle is in a central role, and nobody fixated on bottom!Harry could ever possibly deliver. So yeah please go ahead and block me. ಠ_ಠ

Also, the accusation that I "want engagement" is goofy

If I was driven by engagement, the fic would be straightforwardly on the Top Tom tag, feature a lot of smut, and probably have twice as many hits.

I don't write for engagement; of the 6 fics I have published, 2 are rated G and only half of them even have ship tags at all.

And regarding Lover's Spit specifically, it would absolutely spoil the story if I went on Tumblr rambling about how they're going to fuck. I have more respect for the lovely people who read the story as it is than random potential readers who feel they cannot engage with a story on the off chance their t/b preferences aren't met after 150K of non-smut content.

Yes, fixed shipping preferences can be sexist and homophobic

If your preferences are informed by your belief that Tom Riddle is "too powerful" to ever bottom (!!!) and "submit" to Harry, you're embarrassing and regressive.

You're tacitly admitting that women—that people without penises—are fixed in a state of submission; and you're also insinuating the same of gay men who prefer to bottom.

Sex is a lot of things - not just a power exchange. Sex, as I see it, is about intimacy, vulnerability, and expressing love. That is how I write it, and why I do not want to share "spoilers" about how sex will play out in my fic.

Ultimately this slander is just the product of entitlement

Though Lover's Spit has a lovely, inspiring, and engaged bevy of readers, it is by no means a popular fic. It's a wee little niche fic.

I can see no reason why someone would bother publicly slandering me except that they're just deeply entitled and butt-hurt that I'm not complying to their whims, even though I am a teensy weensy small-time fic writer with no following whatsoever. It's so batshit.

If fixed shipping matters to you, block writers who don't tag. Simple as that.

Anything you'd like to add my dear @k3uuu?

#lover’s spit #tomarry #harry potter #tom riddle #harrymort #tmrhp

[eddie4bat-president]

Hands. Who knew?

@steddiemicrofic written for the prompt: "edge" | rating: G | wc: 509 | cw: none

It catches him off-guard when it happens. Eddie has never really thought too much about hands. Sure, he likes how his own hands look covered in silver and he knows the effect dramatically steepled hands can have when prompting a party of adventurers on their next move in the face of danger. He's also had a girl here or there look a little too long at his hands from the edge of what the Hideout counts as a stage while he had been shredding his heart out; comparing their hand sizes afterwards in a move that always worked on him more for its boldness than the hand thing itself. His hands are just... part of him. An important part, for sure, they're what he uses to write and draw and play guitar until his fingers bleed but also a part he has never consciously wasted a thought on.

So he isn't ready for the way it makes him feel to have Steve push the palms of their hands together to compare while still talking about... something. Basketball, maybe. Something about holding balls? In the back of his mind there is a voice telling Eddie to make a joke but he can't make the thoughts connect. Eddie's hands aren't small by any means but Steve's are bigger. His fingers longer. They're peeking out from behind Eddie's. Thicker too. His whole palm wider. Radiating heat.

And while Eddie is still grappling with that view and the thoughts that follow, Steve continues to manipulate his hand whichever way strikes his fancy. Looking at his rings, tapping them one by one in a rhythm that makes sense only to him. Following the last one with his own finger while turning the whole hand so the palm faces upwards. He starts tracing the lines there - softly, so softly - following the outline of Eddie's fingers with the edge of his fingernail. Had Eddie's hands always been this sensitive? The threat of a shiver begins building at the back of his neck. Steve starts paying special attention to the calluses at Eddie's fingertips, tapping his own fingertips against them.

Eddie only becomes aware that Steve had fallen silent when he starts speaking again, "You know... I used to be good at this... knowing if someone was into me." Tap tap tap. A self-deprecating laugh, "or not into me, that's been happening a lot..."

A few more soft taps, like he's steeling himself for something, a determined look on his face though his gaze remains locked on their hands.

"But with you, I... I don't know. I can't imagine, like, platonically holding my buddy's hand. But everything you do is so out of the ordinary to me. Maybe you do?" Everything seems far away except for the heat of Steve's hands on his and his words echoing in Eddie's head.

"...Fuck it." Steve wraps his fingers under Eddie's, his thumb on top and makes devastating world-shattering eye contact while he presses the softest kiss onto Eddie's knuckles.

"Are you? Into me? Because I'm so very into you."

#this got away from me i'm not gonna lie #steddie #steddie microfic #prompt: edge #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #hey i'm talkin' here #i should probably invest in an actual writing tag #steddiemicroficfebruary #why is this so nerve-wracking

[antiquarianfics]

Sun to Me

If there is one thing Bucky Barnes remembers about his mother, it is that she told him to find someone who plants flowers in the darkest parts of him. If there is one thing Bucky Barnes knows about Reader, it is that they grow him to the clouds.

A/N: Okay, so. (1) Thank you all so much for the incredible response to my last fic, "Timeless." It's given me the motivation to keep writing fics for y'all. (2) Apparently my inspiration strictly comes from music; thus this Zach Bryan "Sun to Me" inspired fic. Enjoy! Genre: Fluff / WC: 1,049 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x G!N Reader Rating: PG / Warning(s): N/A Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

---

Children rarely grasp the concept of marriage when they're little. They understand that their parents get married because they love each other, and that's about as far as it goes. Children rarely grasp the concept of different types of love when they're little. They understand that their parents love each other, and they understand that their parents love them, but that's about as far as it goes. Bucky Barnes was no exception to this human truth when he was young. He remembers being 5 or 6--lifetimes ago--telling his mother he was going to marry her. He loved his ma: you marry the people you love.

Winnifred had gently taken her son in her arms, sitting on their solid living room couch.

"My darling boy," she had said, "you can't marry me. I'm your ma."

Bucky had made a face, protesting. "I love you, though!" He had argued with his mother. "You said people marry people they love."

"I did say that," Winnifred agreed, "but the way I love your father is different than the way I love you. You don't get it now, but one day, you'll meet someone wonderful. When you meet that person, you'll understand what I mean."

Bucky had made a face, scrunching his eyebrows together and biting his lip in confusion.

"James," his mother had said, "you'll find someone someday, somewhere that plants flowers in the darkest parts of you--someone who grows you to the clouds. You'll find someone who loves you the way I love your dad. I promise, sweetheart."

---

Bucky wakes to your alarm blaring--your third, if he counted right. He had woken up three times now to the blaring alarm that you have snoozed just as many times, not stirring more than you have to to pause the incessant noise. Bucky lie in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling and sure he would be unable to fall back asleep for a fourth time. Tiredly, he looked over to the digital clock on his nightstand, reading the taunting 5:32 A.M. in the aggressive red. Running a hand over his tired face, he is about to pull himself out of bed and start his day, but he looks beside him first.

There you are, fast asleep, ignoring every attempt your alarm makes to rouse you. He briefly thinks you're going to oversleep, but he also knows you set alarms earlier than you need to wake up to account for each time you hit snooze.

You're sprawled across your side of the bed, your legs tangling with his and arms tied around your pillow. It's only then that he realizes his legs have gone numb from being pressed beneath your own. He can't bring himself to care, though.

As he watches you sleep--your chest slowly rising and falling as you breathe--he smiles softly. He decides right then that anything he could possibly choose to do at 5:32 A.M. is not nearly as appealing as lying with his partner.

Bucky then rolls onto his side, letting his left arm wrap around you, pulling you close. He breathes in the smell of your shampoo, and he thinks it's something floral. The smell reminds him of his mother--a lifetime ago--telling him to find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of him. It's funny, he thinks, that a smell could pull out such a memory that the brainwashing and science experimenting had fought to erase completely, but he is glad it did.

He misses his mother for a moment. He had lost her so early on, but he remembers how he loved her, how she loved him. He remembers then how his mother had assured him the way they loved each other would be different than how he loves you. He can't help but laugh softly to himself. You were right, Ma, he thinks, I understand now.

You really are something special. You are the kind of person he thinks his mother would have loved. Your kind disposition, your intelligence, your strength: just you. You are the kind of person, too, that took his history, his scars, and his damaged heart and sowed a plentiful garden. You planted flowers in his soul where there had been thorns. You watered the sprouts every night to allow them to eventually bloom. You were there for every nightmare, every court appearance, every fight. You were there to pick up the pieces when he felt most broken. You were there to grow him to the clouds.

He hopes he has been the same for you.

A fourth alarm starts blaring, screaming for you to wake up. The fourth alarm takes the title as the final alarm as you clumsily grab your cellphone, looking at it just enough to turn it off. You drop your phone next to you on the bed before turning around in your lover's arms.

"Mornin', handsome," you say before letting out a yawn.

"Good morning, Doll," he replies easily, gently swiping a stray hair away from your eyes with his finger. "You know, you slept through 3 alarms this morning," he says with a teasing (albeit slightly annoyed) tone.

You groan. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Gave me time to just hold you."

You hum happily, leaning forward to softly kiss his lips. He happily reciprocates. When the two of you part, he smiles at you.

"I remembered something."

"Was it actually 4 alarms?" You ask playfully.

Bucky chuckles and leans his forehead against yours.

"Nah, it was just 3," he assures you. "I remembered something my ma told me."

"Oh!" You exclaim, a little surprised. "That's an early memory!"

He grins. "Yeah, it is."

"So? What'd she tell you?"

"She told me that somewhere, someday, I'd find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of me. Someone who grows me to the clouds. I was, like, 6, I think, so it made no sense when she said it to me."

You smile softly, letting your hand cup his face tenderly. You don't say anything, though, opting to let him share his newfound memory at his own pace.

"But I get it now. It took a literal century, but I get it now. You're the person Ma told me I'd find."

"Can I tell you a secret, Buck?"

"Anything, Doll."

"I love you, too."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x g!n reader #bucky x male!reader #bucky x female!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A promise kept

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 8

Prompt: Idiots to lovers

Rated: G

Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; Mistaken identity; Fluff; Modern AU if you squint

CW: none

Notes: @house-of-the-moving-image and I came up with this while bouncing ideas for another drabble and fell instantly in love with the idea. Be sure to also check out the precious art they made!!!

The bars of the jungle gym creak but Steve doesn’t lift his face from his hunched knees.

“Hey, big boy, don't cry.” 

“‘m not crying. Go away!”

This is ridiculous. He's almost eight, and eight-year-old boys don't cry. Not even if their only friend in the whole world just told them they're moving away to live with their uncle. 

They don't even know each other’s names. Names don't matter when you're eight and you're both at the park and looking for someone to play with. 

So Steve is big boy. 

And his friend … well, Steve mostly calls him his dragon.

It's because of this game they have. Steve is a king and the other boy his dragon and the jungle gym their castle, and every day, they have a new adventure. 

Except now, there won't be any more adventures.

“Oh? But how am I supposed to give you this?” 

Steve lifts his head, goes a bit cross-eyed at the flower that's hovering right in front of his face. 

“What would I want with that?” he snaps. “Flowers are for girls.” 

His dragon chuckles as he joins him on his perch. The playground stretches out under them. Their kingdom. 

“But this isn't just any flower. It's magical.” 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Magical?” 

“Yup!” His friend's face breaks into a grin, two teeth short. “As long as you keep it, I'll always make my way back to you. It may take a while, but I'll find you eventually.” 

“Promise?” Steve murmurs. There's a lump in his throat and it comes out small and quiet.

“I promise.” The other boy winks and tugs the flower behind his ear. “That I'll find you, and that I'll always be your dragon. And now, my king … how about one final adventure?” 

*

The colors of the jungle gym are faded with age. Like the pressed flower in its frame on his bedroom wall. 

“Oh hey, Steve!” 

Steve looks up from the book in his lap to find a familiar someone next to their picnic blanket.

“Eddie, hi!” He smiles, even as his stomach drops. “I … what are you doing here?” 

“Steve?” Will asks, ogling Eddie's tattoos and wild hair with large eyes. “Who's this?” 

“Oh, erm …” Steve runs an awkward hand through his hair. “My friend Eddie. He just moved here. Eddie, this is Will and El, the kids I babysit?” 

“Of course,” Eddie dips into a bow, which makes the twins giggle. “Steve has told me all about you.” 

“Do you want to sit with us?” El asks. “Steve is reading the How to train your dragon books to us.” 

“Fuck yeah, I love dragons!” Eddie cheers. Only he doesn’t sit on the blanket like a normal person - he perches himself on the steps of the jungle gym and hisses, pulling a silly face and mimicking claws with his hands. El whoops and claps while Will smiles shyly. Steve needs to swallow against the memories that threaten to crawl up his throat. 

*

“Was it alright to invite Eddie?” El asks. They've finished reading for the day and she helped Steve get snow cones. “You said he's your friend, but you seem sad when you look at him.”

Steve sighs.

“It's okay,” he says, because how do you explain this to a seven-year-old? 

How do you explain I only met him a few weeks ago but I really like him and it confuses me because it seems like I've known him forever because he reminds me so much of someone I used to know and I'm scared because it feels like I'm betraying that person even though I'm sure they've long forgotten about me?

Will is up on the jungle gym when they round the corner, beaming from ear to ear and talking animatedly with Eddie, who is gesturing up at him from the ground. 

“El!” he calls out when he spots his sister. She smiles and clambers up to join him, handing over one of the dripping snow cones. “Eddie has the best ideas. He just told me about this game he used to play as a kid. Did you know the jungle gym could be a castle and we could be kings and dragons? What do you want to be? We could-” 

“Steve?” 

Someone touches his shoulder and he flinches back into his own body. Eddie’s voice is full of concern, and okay, that's probably because he just dropped their snow cones. They're forming rainbow-colored puddles in the grass. 

“Stevie, c'mon, talk to me! You're freaking me out here!”

He snaps his head up. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Eddie smiles. His eyes are large with worry. Large and brown and crinkling at the corners and so familiar and Steve's an idiot. “You just zoned out there, I thought-” 

“It's you,” Steve mutters. His hands are shaking and his eyes are stinging and then the next thing he knows is that his arms are around Eddie’s neck and he's sobbing into his shoulder. “Holy fuck, it's really you! You're my dragon!” 

“Wait, what?” Eddie pulls back, smile wide and incredulous. His fingers wipe away Steve’s tears, trace the shape of his cheekbones and jaw. “You're- Shit, really? I knew you looked familiar, but I thought there was no way-” 

“I was feeling so bad!” Steve blurts, chest heaving with what might be sobs or laughter, and who cares really, when he found his dragon again? “I was so scared to fall for you because-” 

“Oh?” Eddie’s grin isn't missing any teeth, but it's still just as brilliant. “Are you now?” 

“Huh?” 

Eddie chuckles. “Falling for me?” 

Steve feels himself flush, even as he gives a shaky nod. Eddie’s eyes are soft as he pulls him in. 

“It's okay, big boy. You don't have to be afraid of anything while I'm around.”

“This is really weird,” El whispers from somewhere above them as their lips meet. “I don't think they understand how being friends works.”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

[beingsuneone]

Sunset & Vine

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.

FANDOM: The Hunger Games

PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne

GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.

A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.

DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved

CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)

It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.

Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.

She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.

You can’t place it.

You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.

Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.

Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.

Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.

So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.

“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.

After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.

You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.

So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.

You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.

……

Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.

But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.

You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.

This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.

“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.

“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.

He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.

Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”

He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”

The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.

You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.

Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.

He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.

“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”

He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”

A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”

“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.

You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—

Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”

He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.

“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.

At least it wasn’t exclusively you.

Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.

“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.

“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.

“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”

You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”

Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”

“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”

Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”

Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”

“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.

Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.

“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”

Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”

You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”

Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”

Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”

Really, you could all argue this for hours.

…..

The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.

Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.

Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.

She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.

You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.

Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.

But the relief does not last long.

“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.

Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.

Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.

…..

“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”

He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.

Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.

You do feel a little less nauseous though.

“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”

Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.

Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.

Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.

And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.

…..

“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.

“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”

You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.

You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”

You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”

“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.

Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.

The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.

You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.

The last time was time enough for you.

“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.

“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”

….

“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.

You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”

His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.

It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.

“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.

You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”

Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”

….

You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.

Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.

He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.

You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.

Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.

You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.

“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.

“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”

He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”

You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.

It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.

Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.

Twenty seconds.

You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.

Ten seconds.

You ball your fists, clenching hard.

Nine.

Eight.

God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.

Seven.

Six.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.

Five.

Four.

And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.

Three.

Two.

Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.

One.

The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.

It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.

Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.

You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.

It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.

He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.

Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.

It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.

You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.

The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.

When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.

You race back as fast as you can.

Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.

You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.

It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.

Oh.

“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.

You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.

Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.

You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.

That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.

….

When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.

True enough, in a way.

The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.

You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.

It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.

Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.

You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.

But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.

You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.

“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”

He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.

…..

You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.

It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.

His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.

You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.

You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.

You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.

In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.

You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.

You try to zone back into the plan.

….

Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.

Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.

You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.

You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.

Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.

You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.

All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.

…..

“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.

Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.

Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”

Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”

Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”

….

As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.

You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.

Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.

He had always been the same.

Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.

You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.

They aren’t.

You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.

You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.

Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.

Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.

Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”

You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.

Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”

He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.

Our relationship has been fake from the start.

“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.

Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.

Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.

You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.

“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”

You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”

There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.

…..

You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.

So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.

Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.

It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.

The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.

Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.

Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.

You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.

Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.

You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.

Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?

You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.

You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.

If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.

You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.

Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.

The guards hold out a hand as you approach.

“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”

So much for your heartfelt reunion.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

#peeta mellark #the hunger games peeta #thg peeta #peeta x reader #peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #thg x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #spoilers #mockingjay spoilers #catching fire spoilers #thg spoilers #the hunger games spoilers

[rayslittlekitten]

Grumpy Old Man

A/N: Okay, so this is my first little Joel Miller fic. This was inspired by episode 3 +5. Just a fluffy little thing. Hope you enjoy!

Rating: G

Word Count: 974

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN! Reader

Plot: Your partnership with Joel evolves.

Warnings: None

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Joel not grumpy. It’s his norm. You can’t tell if it’s an old man thing or he’s just always been perpetually acutely miserable even before you met him. Either way, you find it adorable. And when you tell him that, the corners of his mouth dip down even more and at that point, you don’t know if he’s flirting with you or just emphasizing his discontent.

Joel is not an affectionate man and doesn’t really say or share much. You’ve tried to talk him to open up, but he quickly shuts down the conversation as soon as it gets too personal. You never really know what he’s thinking, but you always notice the little thoughtful things he does for you. Aside from protecting you, making sure you’re fed and have a safe space, he also has his own language of letting you know he cares in other ways.

You notice he usually gives you a bigger portion of food, especially if it’s something you like. Food is hard to come by so you always feel bad when he does that, but you would feign you've had enough to eat so you let him have the rest.

Every now and then when you both go scavenging, if he finds something he knows you'll appreciate, he'll throw it in his bag and gift it to you at a later time even though he's always told you to only take what's useful because you should travel light. To him, anything useless regardless of how small it was, was just wasting precious space.

Says the man who found a stash of worn out Archie comic books, which you once mentioned you enjoyed reading growing up, and quietly shoved them into your backpack when you weren’t looking, probably while you were asleep when he kept watch. He doesn't feel an obligation to you nor distrust you, but for his peace of mind, there are some nights he feels safer keeping an eye open.

Another time, you had found your worn down boots replaced with a newer pair.  Joel apparently found a decent pair your size and swapped them out with the ones you've been trekking everywhere with for a while. The rubber soles were thinning and the one was only staying on the bottom of the shoe because of duct tape. When you made a joke about them not being your favorite color, he said he had checked and that was the only option.

You thank him every time for the small gestures, but he always just grunts and brushes them off or changes the subject. The man of a few words sure says a lot through his actions and tonight is no different.

The temperature had dropped drastically and there wasn't much to keep warm except for two dinky little sleeping bags. A fire was out of the question, not wanting to draw any attention. Joel didn't seem so keen on the idea at first, but he had suggested to use each other’s body heat to stay warm. This is the first time the two of you have ever been so physically close together, aside from that one time he pinned your body against a concrete wall and clamped his hand over your mouth to quiet you to avoid being caught by FEDRA when a trade between your crew and his went sour because you all were at the wrong place at the wrong time. FEDRA had raided the abandoned, decrepit building that was once an elementary school and everyone scattered and ran, but you and Joel were the only ones who escaped as far as you both knew. Joel doesn't take on strays, but having already been acquainted, the two of you stuck together ever since to increase your chances of survival.

It was a bit awkward at first, as the both of you have always remained platonic and only saw each other as allies but you'd be lying if you said there isn't some tension between you two. The more time you spent with him, the more you started looking at him differently, and sometimes you think he senses a change as well, but it's hard to read Mr. McMoodypants.  Whether it's human nature, convenience, or just having no one else but each other, this partnership seems to be breaching companionship.

You're both snug inside a large sleeping bag that he merged together with the two. Your backs are right up against one another which seems silly since it defeats the purpose of keeping each other warm, but he could still be crabby about that comment you made about him being adorably grumpy. Trying to get into a more comfortable position, you turn over and curl up behind him. You rest your hand on his waist and feel him stiffen underneath it for a second. After a few seconds, you feel him grab your hand to bring it up to his chest. His fingers interlace with yours and you press yourself closer to him, basking in the warmth his back is radiating. You can feel his heart slowly beating beneath his cozy flannel.

"Who knew the grumpy old man has a warm heart," you joke.

Joel lets out a deep sigh and ignores you.

After a few quiet moments, you check to see if he's still awake.

"Joel?"

"You're a few words away from getting kicked out of this sleeping bag so choose your next words wisely," he responds, staying in the same position.

You can't help but smirk. He's as grumpy as he gets.

"Good night." You strain your neck to give enough reach to boldly plant a kiss on his cheek before finally settling in.

A few seconds later, Joel surprisingly brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your fingers, his beard tickling you.

"Good night." 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn!reader #gn!reader #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal

[betweenbreaths]

head pats and naps (zoro x reader)

Summary: Chopper loves his head pats. 

As it turns out, a certain grumpy swordsman does too.

Rating: G

A/N: Just a short drabble of zoro getting jealous of a little blue-nosed reindeer.

***

Tony Tony Chopper, aka not the crew’s pet, loved to be pet.

You indulged the little reindeer often, although it was more of an excuse for yourself to pat his head and run your fingers through his soft fur. Chopper would pretend to hate it, but he would never put up much of a fight when you picked him up and set him in your lap to hug him and continue patting his head. 

It wouldn't take long for both of you to doze off at the same time, and that was often how you spent your peaceful afternoons aboard the Sunny. 

You didn’t really know how or when it started, but after a while you began to notice a certain green-haired pirate hanging around you and Chopper from a distance. You would spy him from the corner of your eye while you enjoyed a snack with the reindeer, staring at the both of you from the shadows but never uttering a word. You wondered if Zoro felt sort of left out; it was clear to anyone with eyes that he enjoyed Chopper’s company too, always looking out for him like an older brother would. 

Without putting much thought into it, you invited Zoro to join in on the cosy afternoon activities one day. It would be selfish to hog Chopper all to yourself, after all. 

Except, Zoro didn’t really take Chopper away from you. Instead, he simply took up more space, laying his head in your lap while you slept with Chopper right by your side, or resting his head on your shoulder while your fingers began combing through Chopper’s fur as usual.

It happened only once; when out of curiosity you wondered what Zoro’s hair felt like. Sanji’s constant name calling of him as a “mosshead” had made you actually think that his green hair might have a similar texture. 

To your surprise, Zoro’s hair was… spiky. Not very moss-like, and also not the softest — because no one could measure up to Chopper in your opinion — but you had continued running your fingers through his hair anyway, because for some reason it felt like he was leaning into your touch. 

One time became two, and two became three, and soon you found that your peaceful afternoons had grown to consist of you petting two crewmates who equally enjoyed head pats and naps. 

It was a change that you didn’t mind one bit. 

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro x reader fanfiction #tony tony chopper #zoro #my writing #i love them both #hope you enjoyed this little drabble hehe

[kitchenisking]

Sterek Fic Rec

Forth Night of Chunnuka

Tis the Season for Some Red Underwear! by Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,937, sterek)

((I want to get better and become more comfortable writing smut, so I'm practicing.))

It's Derek's and Stiles' first Christmas as a couple and while everyone seems to know what to get Stiles, Derek doesn't. He feels like a horrible boyfriend. He asks Scott for help, which he does, but Erica has ideas for him to 'spice up' his gift. At first Derek isn't budging, but after a Santa themed Abercrombie model hit on HIS boyfriend and smelling Stiles slightly aroused...well, he drew the line at letting Erica set up a camera but promised her he'd tell her some of the details about how his gift for Stiles went.

It Could Have Been a Cold, Cold Christmas by hazelNuts - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,774, sterek)

anonymous asked, "Hey i have a prompt for you. I was wondering if you could please write a Sterek story where Derek's relations are visiting and he panics thinking they won't approve of his mate being a human so he panics and tells Stiles that he wants him to stay away while they are visiting and asks one of the pack to pretend to be his mate. Hurt Stiles tells him he'll stay away alright for good then Stiles agrees to go on a date with who ever. Bring a jealous and possessive Derek to his senses." 

He doesn’t understand why Derek needs his family’s approval so badly. They’re happy, or they were. They’ve been together for almost a year and mates for nearly as long. He thought he was important to Derek, but apparently not important enough that Derek would tell his family about him.

You're Mine by theabominable_snowman - (Rating: Mature, Words: 409, sterek)

Prompt: "Derek's wolf is all STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES .."

Tell Me No Lies by adult_disneyprincess (orphan_account) - (Rating: Mature, Words: 3,932, sterek)

Stiles purposely makes Derek angry to get what he wants.

Grasp All, Lose All by alphablues - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,845, sterek)

The first one is for his mother. He doesn't tell the pack because it's really none of their business. It his skin, his tattoo, not theirs. The second one is for protection, and the third one-well, that one's for Derek.

I Think I'll Keep You by darkchild - (Rating: Mature, Words: 1,980, sterek)

Derek put his finger over the said hickey and pushes, causing Stiles’ knees to go weak. Derek’s right at his ear, then. Nipping at it for the second time that night before Stiles even realizes what's happening. “I’ll let you come, Stiles. I’ll give you what you came for.”

And just like that, Stiles's world had made a complete 180 because what the actual fuck was Derek Hale, sex god of all sex gods, doing to Stiles?

Tell Me What You Want Until It Hurts by redeyedwrath - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,275, sterek)

"They don't do this a lot; when they fuck it's mostly quick and rough. Punishing. Kisses tasting like blood, nails scratching down sides, marking each other, a silent, ‘we're both alive, we're here.’

Sometimes though, on special occasions, Derek lets Stiles take him apart. Lets Stiles pin him against the bed, fit his fingers inside until Derek's crying."

Or, a ficlet where Stiles makes Derek fall apart using his fingers.

I Found A Love by thedevilyousay - (Rating: G, Words: 1,992, sterek)

It was a tradition they’d started not long after they’d begun dating, when Derek had first found out that Stiles spoke Polish fluently. They would play it like a game, usually over dinner, Stiles mostly but sometimes Derek asking questions or making statements in Polish that the other would then repeat back in English, a considerably more fun and immersive way to learn than flashcards or text. But Stiles has never had any trouble keeping Derek on his toes and this particular night comes as no exception.

Work Song by DefNotForWork - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,078, sterek)

Derek and Stiles adjust to life with a new baby, their first. She's beautiful and amazing. No wonder Stiles spends all his time spoiling her now. Still, Derek has a hard time sharing the attention.

Through Time and Space by To_fill_the_sea - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7,545, sterek)

A witch casts a relocation spell that sends Derek back in time 6 years. Stiles and the rest of the pack have to get him back, but how will everyone from 6 years prior handle the situation? And will Derek be able to handle keeping clear of his mate?

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs #ficrec #fanfic

[berenwrites]

Caring - Stranger Things - Steddie

Rating: G | cw: none | tags: pre-steddie, fluff

Prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you (@starryeyedjanai)

A/N: Written for @steddielovemonth day 1. How could I resist?

Also on AO3 | All my other Stranger Things Fic

Caring: Now It’s Your Turn

Eddie can literally feel the nervous energy that is the only thing keeping Steve going. He’s pretty sure the other man hasn’t stopped moving since they all emerged from the Upside Down.

It’s finally over. The nightmare is finished.

By some miracle, everyone who went in this time is alive, and they brought him back too. Vecna is dead, a charred mess that Eleven made sure was never, ever coming back. Eddie isn’t sure how that happened. He isn’t sure of anything from the time he “died” to the time Steve “the hero who has zero self-preservation skills” Harrington refused to hit him with a nail bat and instead wrapped him in a hug until he stopped struggling.

Apparently, Vecna’s hold on him was worth shit when Steve was in the equation. Well Steve and possibly bats.

The fact that he has a vague sense of Steve in the back of his brain now had been freaking him out, but he is currently settling into numb acceptance. They were definitely going to have to talk about it, but that is a problem for future Eddie. He doesn’t have enough brain power to think about more than one thing at a time, and his current focus is the fact Steve is ready to drop.

Looking at Steve, no one would ever know. Except possibly Robin, because she is giving Steve worried looks too.

Apparently, Steve’s house had become the group’s base for their final offensive against Vecna. Everyone had returned there once it was done, and ever since, Steve had been running around making sure everyone else had everything they needed. They had all taken showers, had clean clothes and food, been patched up for minor injuries, and had been allocated places to sleep. All except Steve.

Eddie had had an embarrassing crush on Steve ever since his King Steve days. Their short time together before Eddie had done his own hero bit had only cemented that and made it grow. It hadn’t stopped. Maybe it is mental exhaustion talking, or the shock of not being dead finally sinking in, but he can’t take his eyes off Steve.

Before the Upside Down it had seemed like such a big, impossible thing. After coming back from the dead, nothing seemed completely out of reach.

He shares a glance with Robin as they watch Steve moving through the huge Harrington living room, checking on everyone, making sure they have everything they could possibly need, and they come to a silent decision. Standing, they both make a beeline to their target. Eddie slips one hand under Steve’s right elbow, while Robin does the same on the other side.

“What..?” Steve starts to say.

“How many fingers, Dingus?” Robin asks, holding up her hand. “I thought so,” she says when Steve squints hard, as if trying to guess.

“I need…” Steve begins.

“To sleep,” Eddie finishes for him.

“But,” is the weak protest.

“No buts,” Robin counters. “Everyone is fine, everyone is looked after. Now it’s your turn.”

Steve looks between them, clearly ready to object, but, surprisingly, sags against their united front.

It makes Eddie smile for the first time since Steve shattered Vecna’s hold on him, as Steve lets them lead him towards the stairs. He doesn’t really have a handle on the fluttery feeling in his chest yet, and he still has to let himself deal with, well, just everything, but it’s a start. That Steve is letting him and Robin do some looking after settles a place inside him.

For now, it will do.

All my other Stranger Things Fic

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #eddie lives #post season 4 #steddielovemonth #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie ficlet

[mimisempai]

No dream matches my reality with you

Summary

Aziraphale contemplates his sleeping lover's face, and soon can no longer just watch.

Notes

50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts

Kiss #28: One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss

On Ao3

Rating G -  625 words

A slight movement beside him caught Aziraphale's eye.

He was leaning against the headboard, reading while Crowley slept, nestled against his thigh. 

The demon had just rolled over and Aziraphale put his book on the nightstand, his reading having lost its appeal compared to the sight of the beloved face sleeping peacefully.

As he watched Crowley's lips curl into a smile in his sleep, Aziraphale wondered with amusement what his lover could be dreaming about.

That smile.

Seen so many times, under so many circumstances.

Never as beautiful as when it was directed at him alone.

Careful not to wake Crowley, the angel slid down to lie on his stomach, his chin resting on one hand as he continued to watch his sleeping demon.

After a moment, he couldn't resist touching him and reached out with his other hand to Crowley's face, stopping just before his fingers made contact with his skin. Feeling a little hesitant because Crowley seemed to be sleeping so peacefully, he stopped himself from closing the distance between his hand and his lover's face and traced the fine features of the beloved face in the air without touching it.

Suddenly, the demon opened his eyes and said in an amused tone, "You know you can touch, Angel?"

Aziraphale chuckled slightly and then, with no reservations now that Crowley was awake, placed his hand on the demon's cheek. His lover hummed with pleasure, the sound almost like a purr, as the angel gently stroked his cheek with his thumb.

He said sheepishly, "Sorry to have woken you from your dream."

Crowley asked, a little surprised, "How do you know it was a dream and not a nightmare?"

Aziraphale traced the demon's lips with his index finger and replied, "You smiled and looked happy."

His finger moved up and delicately traced his lover's eyebrows as he continued, "What were you dreaming about?"

Crowley closed his eyes under the gentle caresses and replied, still smiling, "I don't really remember, except that you must have been in it.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and asked as his finger continued its path along the thin ridge of the demon's nose, "But if you don't remember, how do you know I was in it?"

"Because your hands don't make me feel like I'm awake."

Aziraphale laughed lightly and his finger was back on the smiling lips, gently caressing the outline.  

Crowley opened his eyes and delicately kissed the angel's fingertips. Unable to resist, Aziraphale took hold of the demon's chin and tilted it toward him before placing his lips on his lover's.

Their lips moved gently and slowly against each other. The kiss was deliciously sweet, not meant to be anything more, just the pleasure of sharing a tender moment, reveling in their closeness.

When they parted to catch their breath, Aziraphale buried his face in Crowley's neck, who wrapped his arm around his shoulders to hold the angel close.

Then, his cheek pressed against his lover's head, the demon murmured in a hoarse voice, "I know it's probably cheesy, but even if I don't remember my dream, I'm sure it pales in comparison to this reality." 

The angel turned his head on the demon's shoulder to look at him, gently caressing his chest in random curves, "I don't care if it's cheesy if that's how you feel. I happen to love my demon, even when he's cheesy."

Aziraphale planted a kiss on the chest, now shaken by Crowley's easy laugh, to which he added his own. 

When their laughter died away, Aziraphale curled up against Crowley, who tightened his arm around him, and angel and demon let sleep take them both. 

Whatever their dreams, they knew that when they awoke, reality would be a thousand times better.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable kisses series : here

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #50 kisses

[veryace-ficrecs]

Hi I was wondering if you knew any fics about where Luffy successfully rescues ace from Impel Down.

Of course! I did my best to find fics where it was Luffy who saved Ace, but I've also included some where someone else helped!

Ace Rescued From Impel Down Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :) Enjoy!

A Fair Trade by Rijus_Hope - Not Rated

Luffy and his crew hear about Ace's execution before it reaches the papers, before they're split up at Sabaody Archipelago. His crew is ready for Luffy to boldly declare that they were going to break his brother out of prison, but Luffy is as unpredictable as ever, and presents an entirely different plan: To offer himself, the son of the Revolutionary Dragon, as a prisoner in Ace's place.

It was cold without you by my side by Dezace - Rated T

Sabo just got back from a mission. He overhears news concerning the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard pirates and the supernova Strawhat Luffy. Strawhat was reported to be in Impel Down, trying to break out Fire Fist Ace. What the World Government didn't know was that this caused a domino effect of epic proportions. Sabo would rather kill himself than not do anything. His brothers were counting on him.

The will to live is harder to keep than a will to die by Dezace - Rated T

Ace was chained down in Impel Down, waiting for his execution and death, knowing that nothing can change that. When Ace hears the news that Luffy was here and there for him, Ace couldn't sit still. Not anymore. Or: Ace decided that being the damsel in distress sucks and that if you wanted something done right, do it yourself.

Of Seas and Freedom by OCEANSHELLS - Rated T

Law and Luffy break Ace out of Impel Down during a date and make out in the elevator, not exactly in that order.

Fair Enough by WolfyTheWolfz - Rated T

Luffy finds out about Ace's execution, and instead of rushing straight towards Impel Down, he enlists the help of Boa Hancock, to help trade himself for his brother but to also get a message out to his crew.

see you again by yeonjunenby - Rated T

While awaiting his execution, Ace silently wishes that he could have seen his brothers Luffy and Sabo one more time. His wish comes true, except for some reason this Sabo and Luffy appear to be from three years in the future, and they seem hellbent on breaking him out of prison.

Of course I'd come for you by Lerya - Rated T

Making a beeline to the end of the hallway, Luffy didn't care about anything else but getting to his big brother.

Garp taught Luffy how to be a marine and uses that knowledge to break into a government facility by Dezace - Rated T

Garp wanted Luffy and Ace to be Marines, so he taught them what a good marine should know and how to do it. While Ace and Luffy obviously didn't become marines, that knowledge was, literally, pounded into their heads. With Ace captured and set for execution, Luffy uses that knowledge to bust his brother out of prison. Or: Why Garp shouldn't have taught an upcoming rookie what Marine codes meant because all it led to was the chaos a pirate could use it for.

Not Once, But Twice In A Lifetime by BonneyJewelry - Rated G

On the way to Wano, Luffy is forced to rest by his frantic reindeer doctor. When he snaps his eyes open again, he is not where he expects to be. Is that Aces Vivre Card?

Never Let Go by Applepie - Rated G

Sabo never managed to escape from his father after he gave himself up for Ace and Luffy’s sake. But ten years pretending to be the Noble his father expects him to be is nothing when it lets him save his brother in the end. (In which Ace gets a visitor in Impel Down, and it’s the last person he expects.)

The Rescue Party by UntoldDepths - Rated M

In which the Straw Hat pirate crew finds out about Ace's execution earlier than canon and immediately launches a rescue mission.

#veryace asks #one piece fic recs #one piece #portgas d ace #monkey d. luffy #impel down #strawhat pirates #vice admiral garp #one piece sabo #asl brothers #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs #ao3

[superbattrash]

Do you have any Superbat fic recs? Just kind of stumbled on the ship and am already excited by the notion.

Hiiiii sweetheart! Welcome to the bright and sunny side of superbat shipping ~ *blows dust off my laptop that I haven’t turned on in a month* oh gross, there are actual spiderwebs on it... I'm so sorry, Maggie. Ahem, first of all. Any and all fics by these talented people: @frownyalfred, @superbatdisasterblog, @susiecarter, @sassyresacon1990 (I know I'm forgetting a lot of people but it's been a while okay)

This is just handful of my ultimate favs, if you need more I'm always more than happy to go through my bookmarks!

tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter (rated M)

It takes a while for Batman and Superman to work things out, once Clark comes back from the dead. Pretending to date each other in order to explain why Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are in the same place so often? Doesn't help as much as you might think.

Condersing Conditions by LeCadavre_1904 (rated E)

Before Bruce and Clark fall into bed for the first time, Bruce has an unusual condition.

Clark is as obliging as always.

don't push me (cause I am close to the edge) by LinguisticJubilee (rated G)

Kara huffs out a breath in frustration. “Every Kryptonian has a heartsong. And they’re beautiful, but when you listen to one on its own it feels like something is missing. It’s like...they have something like this too, right?” She gestures outward impatiently, and Bruce forces himself not to flinch at her casual use of they. “Only they have words written down instead.” 

“Soulmates,” Clark says, his voice strained. 

The word hits Bruce like a bullet through the lung. He keeps his face perfectly relaxed, his heartbeat calm and regular, as he realizes (too late, he's always too late) that he should have expected this all along.

fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace by Resacon1990 (rated T)

“But Bruce isn’t gay?” Clark points out, and there’s an awkward moment of everyone clearing their throats and avoiding Clark’s eyes until he turns to stare at Bruce. “Are you?”

Bruce blinks for a moment before offering a sheepish smile. “I’m not… not?” he offers, and Clark feels his brain just about short-circuit at the news.

Or, five times Clark finds himself falling for Bruce, and the one time he does something about it

No Church in the Wild by TheResurrectionist (not rated but OUCH ANGST)

"I'll have a contingency plan."

"If you're the first face he sees, you'll need it."

Bruce brings Clark back by himself.

smokin' in the boys' room - by The Ressurectionist (not rated but both blood and dicks, so rated Misha HAPPY) (I cannot tell you how many times I've reread this one GUUUHHH)

Bruce Wayne -- billionaire playboy, owner of, at most, three brain cells -- beaten up at his own charity gala. Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises out of nepotism and dumb luck, whose business wasn’t touched by corruption purely because of incompetence -- Bruce Wayne, airheaded and still generous, still kind, bloody in a stall and trying to hide it. 

His hand clenched on the stall door, crumpling it between his fingers. His eyes weren’t burning yet, but barely. 

“Who did this to you?”

I Would I Might Forget That I Am I by susiecarter (rated T)

Clark Kent woke up, ate breakfast, went to work—the same way he did every day. Ordinary.

Except for the part where Superman hadn't been seen in at least a week and nobody knew why, Lois was acting kind of weird, and Bruce Wayne was insisting that Clark was the only reporter he'd allow to run a feature on the crashed alien ship in the park, since Wayne Enterprises had been granted control of the site. And the way Clark felt every time Wayne looked at him a little too long definitely wasn't helping.

But it was fine. Clark was normal, there was nothing wrong with him, and everything was fine.

Satisfaction Brought It Back by slippin_into_dakrness and SpiritsFlame. (rated G) (This one is my comfort comfort comfort read!!!)

Bruce always thought that Superman's cute shtick of rescuing cats from trees was a bid for publicity—until a confrontation with a magic user leaves him stuck as a cat. He learns how mistaken he was when Superman not only rescues him, but takes him back to a small Metropolis apartment. The opportunity to learn more about the alien can't be ignored, but is Bruce ready for everything he will learn about someone he has only ever regarded with distrust and dislike?

#mishask #superbat fic rec #long post #sorryyyyyy I should've kept it shorter but I wanted to summaries in case you were curious before reading