#fake fic titles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

indiaalphawhiskey · 8 months

Note

Fake summary please for this made up title:

Flip me off and I’ll flip you over

🎸 Flip Me Off and I’ll Flip You Over

It had been an honest mistake, hand to God.

Louis had seen him last night, two rows away from the front, eyes closed and mouthing along perfectly to All This Time, his sweaty tendrils framing his forehead and the sleeves of his Faith in the Future tee artfully cut off.

They had made flirty - some would even say, obscenely heated - eye contact under the bright lights.

That’s how Louis knew about the dimples; that’s why Louis ran to the barricade three songs too early and a little too far to the left. He didn’t actually see if one of the hands that had so desperately clutched at him belonged to Dimples, but he’d thought it safe to think so. (No one stood that close to the stage, totally dolled up in their little outfit just to make eyes at the artist all night and not try to touch him. Please.)

But the thing was, Louis was also just a wee bit hungover this morning; cranky, headache-y, and severely under-caffeinated after a late night at the club and an inhumane five a.m. radio interview call time. Not to mention being unceremoniously manhandled into the car by Joni after some fans got a tad too excitable at the entrance.

So when he saw Dimples for the second concert in a row, now strategically stationed outside his dressing room wearing leather trousers in 36 degree weather, smiling at Louis like that…

Well, he’d just kind of… assumed.

“Bit too early to be this thirsty for a back room shag, darling, innit?” Louis snarked over the pounding in his head. Though he squeezed his eyes shut behind his dark sunglasses, he didn’t miss the startled look on Dimples’ face.

“W-wh—” he stammered, seemingly bewildered. “I—I beg your pardon?”

Louis would roll his eyes at the impeccable feigned innocence if he wasn’t so dizzy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he peeked one eye open at the same time he lifted his coffee up to his mouth. Caffeine would save him.

He smirked a little at the deep blush on Dimples’ cheeks; at how caught out he clearly was. The movement only made Louis’ head hurt more.

“Posh little thing, aren’t ya?” He observed off-handedly, wincing at the reverberating sounds inside his head over the brim of his cup. Out of the corner of his eye, he clocked the pen in Dimples’ hand and he tipped his head as far as he could without giving himself vertigo to point at it. “Want me to sign your chest or something? Will that get you to leave me alone?”

Dimples narrowed his eyes at Louis in what seemed like the perfect cross between confusion and annoyance. “Ex-cuse me—”

“Come on then,” Louis interrupted impatiently. With a heavy sigh, he gestured with his palm to hand over the pen. “Just lift up your shirt and let’s get this over with—”

“Oh good, you’ve met!” Oli’s voice was so loud it made Louis flinch. Well, it was either his volume or the two forceful slaps he clapped on Louis’ back as he beamed as Dimples. “Louis Tomlinson,” he said, with a dramatic drumroll-type tone to his voice, “meet the legendary Harry Styles, youngest senior concert critic in Rolling Stone magazine history!”

To say those were the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment would have been incorrect. Mostly because the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment were the next six: “He’s here to review your tour!”

Louis lifted his horrified gaze to Harry’s face slowly. Their eyes locked, anger flashing across Harry’s features as he crossed his arms over his chest. Ironically, the lanyard of his press pass was now painfully obvious where it hung around his neck.

“Charmed,” he deadpanned.

Whoops.

— or, Louis Tomlinson’s World Tour was off to a great start until he royally fucked up by mistaking a world famous concert critic for a groupie. Then again, it’s not like anyone said Harry Styles couldn’t be both.

#iaw ask #fake fic titles #fake fic summary

410 notes · View notes

daydreamtofiction · 2 years

Note

Treading on thin ice

Smut with Doctor strange 😏

Treading On Thin Ice / Stephen Strange x You

For the ‘fake fic titles’ challenge.

Word Count: 2.3K

Content Warning: Female reader, strong language/explicit sexual descriptions, smut: 'quickie’, no foreplay, creampie. Readers must be 18+

In the dark, the patterns in the ceiling look like faces, and the longer you stare, the more they seem to stare back.

It's nothing new. You've spent so many nights lying wide awake in this room that you've even begun to give the faces names, their own stories and personalities. It's easy to forget that once the sun comes up, they're not actually faces at all.

You turn your head towards Stephen as he snores softly beside you, his arm draped heavily over your stomach, face half-buried in his pillow. It's nice when he sleeps; makes him seem more human, somehow. You smile at the thought and gently slip out from beneath his sleepy embrace, lowering yourself off the bed and fumbling blindly on the ground for something to wear.

You find his t-shirt in a crumpled ball beside the bed and pull it on. No point in pants, you think, you won't be gone that long. You glance back at him through the darkness once more before padding out of the room, carefully opening the heavy door and closing it quietly behind you.

The Sanctum is beautiful, even at night, with just the wall sconces leading your way with their dim glow. It's hard to believe this place has always been here, that you walked by it so many times and never knew of the other world that existed inside. Even now that you're with Stephen, the only room inside this Sanctum you've come to know well seems to be his bedroom. And he likes it that way.

You, on the other hand, do not.

You want to know everything; to see the true wonders of time and reality, the most powerful things magic can conjure, the full extent of what Stephen and the other sorcerers can do. But whenever you get close, he always pulls you back; sweeps you away from a scene, shuts a door before you can peek inside and warns you to stop prying.

You turn a corner, running your hand along the glossy wood panelling on the wall as you follow the hallway towards a large set of double doors. You look back over your shoulder, almost in disbelief that you've made it this far; the furthest you've ever gotten without him coming to find you. It's dark and quiet, eerily still as you reach for the large brass handles on the doors and pull them towards you, opening them with a creak and stepping through their threshold.

The room is smaller than you expected, with stone walls and a chill in the air that brushes against your bare legs. You cross your arms over your chest and move slowly towards the only thing the room seems to hold - a glass case sitting atop an altar. As you move, you notice the glass almost seems to glow, as if reflecting sunlight despite it being the middle of the night. You tilt your head curiously as you approach, narrowing your eyes at what sits inside.

A deck of... tarot cards?

You begin to lean forward, trying to decipher the image on the top card when Stephen's voice appears behind you, startling you back to full height.

"You are treading on very thin ice."

"How thin?" you reply as you turn around.

"Paper."

You smirk, eyes trailing him up and down. He's shirtless, barefoot, wearing a pair of navy blue pyjama bottoms as he stands in the doorway. The streaks of silver at his temples - usually so tidy - are scruffy and uncombed, the crease of his pillow still printed into his cheek. It's clear he came looking for you the second he woke, and you can't help but smirk again as you picture his face when he realised you were missing.

He presses his lips together and exhales, raising his finger and beckoning you towards him. You sigh and do as you're told, abandoning your curiosity and walking towards him, making sure to take one last glance over your shoulder at the mysterious cards inside their glowing case.

He looks down at you sternly as you pass him, the tension visible in his jaw, even in the low light. You've seen this look before, probably more times than you should have; it's as if he's holding back the urge to chastise you, to throw you over his shoulder and march you back to the bedroom. But instead he simply begins to walk, waving his hand in the air and making the doors behind you slam shut.

"You gotta stop doing this," he says.

"Doing what?" you ask as you hurry to catch up to him. "I just... went for a walk."

"A walk? At 2am? Around my sanctum?"

"Okay fine, so I couldn't sleep and I got a little curious. But come on, Stephen, I just don't understand what the big deal is."

"The big deal?"

"With letting me see more. Showing me everything you do here. I already know you're a sorcerer- I mean, for gods sakes the whole world knows you're a sorcerer-"

"You're right, I am a sorcerer-"

"So show me."

"You didn't let me finish. I am a sorcerer. But I think you forget I'm also a protector - of earth, of this reality, and of everyone in it. That includes you." He pokes his index finger into your shoulder.

You roll your eyes and groan in frustration. "I'm not stupid, Stephen. It's not like I'd go touching anything, or- or... telling random people-"

"It doesn't matter. The further removed you are from what I do, the safer you stay. Ignorance is bliss."

"Mm. Ignorance is torture."

You hear him chuckle to himself and glance up to see a slight smirk on his face, as if there's a part of him that actually likes your inability to stay put, that enjoys having to keep you in check.

He stops when you reach his bedroom, pushing open the door and gesturing for you to go inside. You glare up at him for a moment before giving in, walking back into the large, ornate room and standing with your arms crossed as he follows behind.

"I mean it," he says. "You better stop this or I'm gonna have to start tying you to the bed whenever you spend the night."

You raise an eyebrow. "I wouldn't exactly be opposed to that..."

He rolls his eyes and shuts the door, sending the room plummeting back into darkness, only the slightest glow of moonlight seeping in through the thick drapes.

"Bed," he demands sternly. "Now."

"Yes sir," you reply sarcastically.

"It's Doctor, actually."

You breathe out a quiet laugh as he walks around you to the other side of the bed, slipping off his pyjama pants and climbing in.

"I'm serious," he says. "Come to bed or I tie you to it."

You feel a shudder at the thought; a warm, pleasant ripple deep in your core. You roll your shoulders to compose yourself, exhaling slowly.

"How about we make a deal?" you say, slipping the t-shirt over your head and throwing it to the ground, leaving yourself bare to him, nipples hardening as they make contact with the cool air. "You tell me some stuff about what you do here, y'know, let me in on a few... sorcery secrets, and I promise to stop snooping."

He remains quiet, unamused, leaning back against the headboard as he watches you climb onto the bed and crawl up to him, straddling his waist and running your hands over his bare chest.

"I'm not asking for much," you continue. "Just... show me a little more of what you can do."

You lean in and kiss him, but he doesn't yield to your request. Instead he smirks, shaking his head slightly.

"No."

You huff, bringing your fingers up to curl into the back of his hair and tugging on it slightly, allowing you access to press your lips to his neck.

"Then at least tell me what the deal is with those cards back there," you mutter between kisses.

"Mm, no."

"Well then what about-"

"Thin ice," he repeats slowly, his voice almost a growl as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips.

You inhale deeply through your nose as you lean back to look at him, trying to quell the blend of frustration and heat building up inside you. His face is an illustration of angles and shadows, those flecks of silver glittering in the soft moonlight, eyes the clearest blue yet somehow burning. You can't tell if he wants you to stop talking, or wants to make you stop talking.

"Come on, Stephen," you whine, taking him by the wrists and bringing his hands up to your bare chest; encouraging him to touch you, to feel the ripples of your body, the curve of your breasts. "I know these hands can do more than open portals and slam doors. Show me what they can really do."

He sighs, and you know his conviction is wavering, in the way his thumbs roll over your nipples, how his nails graze your soft skin.

"Am I not enough," he begins, voice low as it rumbles in the back of his throat. "Is what you already have of me not enough?"

You furrow your brow, unsure of what to say. So instead you lean forward and kiss him again. Of course he's enough. He is enough. But your curiosity is an itch in a place you can't reach, and it will never go away until it gets scratched.

His kiss is gentle, relaxed and unhurried. It makes you realise just how late it is; how you've disturbed his sleep, and even now can't seem to let him rest. You pull back, running your thumb softly over his bottom lip and shifting your weight to climb off him. But before you can, you feel his hands on your hips again, holding you in place.

"Mm, how about you show me what you can do?" he hums lazily, fighting a grin.

You bite your lip to hold in a laugh and shake your head. "Weren't you fast asleep like fifteen minutes ago?"

"Mhm, but then you went and woke me up, so…" he rolls his hips, pushing a very obvious erection up against your centre.

"So now it's my job to fix it?" you raise an eyebrow.

"Only if you want to."

You smile and lean forward, indulging in another kiss before whispering against his lips. "Will you make the ice I'm on a little thicker?"

He chuckles. "I'll think about it."

His hands roam a little more freely; fingers dragging down your back, squeezing your ass as you slowly, teasingly grind your hips. You lose yourself in the memory of how it feels to have him inside you - the first time, the fiftieth time, the time earlier tonight - you never tire of it, you're not sure you ever will.

You rise up slightly to try and shift down his underwear, but with the flick of his wrist, they whip off his body and land on the floor across the room. You roll your eyes at him and he swallows your giggle with a kiss. You can feel him now, properly. The hot, hard tip of him prodding at your sheathed entrance. Your body tingles with anticipation, impatience flooding your core as you shift to free yourself from the lace barrier separating you.

He gives a soft hiss as you sink down onto him, his hands moving to grip your waist. You love when he loses himself in you, when he forgets about the scars and the pain and just lets himself touch you.

He steadies his breath, stilling himself and resisting the urge to thrust up into you, allowing your body the moment it always needs to embrace his presence. You shiver, placing your hands on the headboard as you begin to move. He feels thick and hot, his cock kissing the places inside you that turn your legs to jelly.

"Promise me," he groans. "Promise me you won't go exploring anymore."

"Stephen," you say breathlessly, still working yourself up and down his length.

Even in the throes of pleasure, you can't lie to him. You would go snooping around a hundred more rooms if it meant you got this moment afterwards.

"Just let me protect you." His breath hitches. "That's all I want."

"I know."

He begins to meet your movements with deep, intense thrusts. You can feel his nails carving moons into the flesh of your waist, electricity splintering in your core. You bring your hands down and splay your palms over his chest. He's sweating, the soft moonlight making his skin glisten, and it's all so divine you can barely conjure anything besides a string of moans and desperate whimpers.

His voice is so deep that you can feel it in the palms of your hands. It's rumbling in his chest as he grunts and groans, his rhythm so steady it's hard to believe he was ever tired at all.

You're beginning to crest; you can feel it in the way your muscles tighten around him, how the splinters in your core begin to burst through you. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, chasing you there, and it doesn't take long.

Your orgasm thunders through you, rendering you a throbbing, aching mess. He comes to the feeling of your walls tightening around him, releasing himself inside you in a hot, steady stream. The sounds of your moans blend together in the steamy air around you, and you collapse onto him, feeling his lips against your forehead as he gently rolls you onto your side.

You lie together, still connected, his cock softening inside you as you listen to his breath steadying, feel his seed slowly leaking out of you.

"You didn't promise," he rumbles sleepily. "You didn't promise you'd stop exploring."

You shift your head, glancing up at him but not saying a word. You lay a kiss on his shoulder before nuzzling back into his chest.

"And you're not going to, are you?"

#fake fic titles #fanfic #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange smut #Stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #stephen strange smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you

840 notes · View notes

guppybubbles · 3 months

Note

Fake fic title:

And the phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing...

hey... hey... how yall doing.. *awkwardly walks in* (realised i never posted the other fic titles even though i had already written them)

Wilbur is 100% sure this apartment is haunted. Great. His first taste of independence after moving out of his parents' house and pursuing a career in music, he gets haunted.

At first, he thought he was simply just misplacing things. Though stuff was falling off of shelves when his back is turned, whenever he places something down, it disappears after he turns around for one second and there would be random noises in the walls in the middle of the night. When he gets out of bed to investigate the sound, he finds nothing.

His friends came to visit just to see how Wilbur's been holding up in his new home, though it became a problem after Jack's phone went missing and no matter how much they called the phone and turned the apartment upside down. It was never found. Wilbur apologised and promised to give Jack his phone if ever he found it.

A week has passed, and Wilbur has completely forgotten about it until he receives a phone call from Jack. "Hello? Jack..?"

There was silence for a moment. "I can see youuu." It was a whisper of a voice he didn't know. The voice sounded like a kid, young and playful.

Prank callers. Someone stole Jack's phone and is messing with people. The call ended before Wilbur could reply.

Tommy giggled. Finally, he knew how to use the contacts feature! The borrower found Wilbur's reaction so funny. Maybe he should keep calling…

#guppy's asks #mcyt g/t #giant/tiny #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t community #g/t #giant tiny #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #tiny!tommy #borrower!tommy #giant!wilbur #fake fic titles #g/t idea #g!wilbur #guppy writes!

30 notes · View notes

wildbornsiren · 11 months

Note

For the made up title fic: I Wish I Didn’t

Slow dancing in the kitchen wasn't something Jake had ever expected to do. He had seen his folks do it when he was growing up. He'd sneak downstairs in the middle of the night for water, and his parents would be wrapped up in each other swaying, avoiding the island, and dog bowls. Sometimes there would be music, sometimes it would be his father humming off key as he twirled Jake's mother around the room.

And yet, here he is. Tucked against Bradley's solid chest, the vibrations of Bradley singing along with the song oddly comforting. Jake lifts his head, lips brushing against Bradley's jaw. "You know there was a time when we couldn't even stand to be in the room together?" He asks softly. Bradley only pulls him closer, closing that last bit of distance with a soft kiss. "We could have had this sooner, if I hadn't walked away the first time." "Maybe," Jake says. "But what we have now is because of what we had then."

#shelly on writing #shelly loves jess #Hangster #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin/Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #fake fic titles

78 notes · View notes

lizhly-writes · 7 months

Note

in the business of misery

The capture formation wasn’t so good that Bihyung couldn’t get out eventually. But it would take time, and Bihyung had a quota to meet. It would look so bad if he didn’t hit bare minimum during this cycle. What about his hopes for a promotion then, huh? Which was why he was stuck trying to convince some random human to set him free. “All you have to do is smudge the chalk,” Bihyung said, as convincingly as he could. He smiled, for good measure. That sort of baring of teeth was what humans considered friendly. The human – dark-eyed, dark-haired, devoid of any real identifying features in a country made up almost entirely of dark-eyed, dark-haired people – regarded him languidly. “Why? Some people would say I’d be risking my soul if I did.” That was true. Bihyung’s smile slipped a little before he rallied back with, “Haha, it’s not like you were my summoner. Those things usually happen to the summoner – I’m not going to do anything to you." “You can’t do anything to me either, if I leave you in there,” the human said. This was also unfortunately true. Bihyung could track him down, later, after he got free – but again, it would take up time, and Bihyung doesn’t have time. Not if he wants to get that promotion instead of Paul. “What about this,” said the human. He was inspecting the capture circle, foot ever-so-close to smearing the outer ring. “If I get you out, what will you give me for it?”

Or: normal human Kim Dokja gains a roommate in normal demon Bihyung, who just wants to make enough fucked-up bargains inspiring misery so he can finally get that goddamn promotion. Naturally, it starts with Kim Dokja extorting the shit out of Bihyung.

probably kinda long for a summary, but hey! more words! whatever!

#asks #anon #fake fic titles #my writing #orv #kim dokja #bihyung #kdj #everything

36 notes · View notes

pacificwaternymph · 10 months

Note

for fic title thingie

stop lying through a smile you cant fake

Everything should be perfect.

Scott won. He'd won the supreme witch tournament. He'd resurrected Milo, who still loved him. He'd had to give up his power, but it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make. Because everything was finally, finally perfect again.

Except it isn't. Because Scott still wakes screaming from nightmares about Milo's death. And because Milo, for all his promises to love Scott forever, still doesn't know the truth.

The killings, the curses, the lies. Milo doesn't know that Scott was a witch. Hell, he doesn't even know that it was Scott who brought him back in the first place! He still believes it to be an act of divine intervention from some benevolent god. He doesn't know that Scott killed a god, and surely earned the ire of all the rest with his deeds.

The only person who knew all of it was Cleo, and she's gone. Off somewhere in the multiverse, with no way to reach her.

It weighs heavily on him. Milo can tell something is wrong, but he doesn't press. He never will, because that's the kind of person he is. Scott just doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up.

#ask game #fake fic titles #witchcraft smp

42 notes · View notes

i-am-beckyu · 1 year

Text

TO THE ANON THAT GAVE ME THIS TITLE, YOU SPARKED ART!

This fake fic title gets its own post now for that reason

Why you should never buy a teacup pig

Phil had an interesting fascination for collecting things. He had a collection for everything! Stamps, coins, books, feathers, plates: you name it, he's got it.

Currently, he has a fascination for collecting miniature porcelain figurines. He's got a dog, a cat, a codfish, a horse to name a few. Some ornate or simplistic, others elaborate in little outfits or striking interesting poses. Some of his favourites are a crow (for obvious reasons), a little racoon that reminds him of Tommy and an Orca that reminds him of Wil.

But his favourite favourite of the bunch is a little pig in a teacup, wearing a little golden crown and has a red cape that he got recently: A perfect addition to his collection! They fit perfectly amongst his other 3 favs. Such a sweet little teacup piggy ^v^

~~~~~~~~

Techno is not a sweet little teacup piggy >:|

He's been cursed into this form by a witch for 1000s of years and he had almost made it out of that dumb antique shop, if it wasn't for the stupid old man deciding to ruin everything. He'll make them pay for what they have done...

hehehe teacup piggy :3

Honestly I’ve never made fanart of Techno before and I honestly am very proud of myself for this piece here. The fact that the prompt sparked the idea just makes this even better and I really enjoyed making it. So I hope you like this! (also sheesh two big posts in one week niceeeee)

#beckyu answers #beckyu arts #beckyu writes #fake fic titles #ask game #ask game closed atm tho lol #tiny!techno #giant!phil #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #technoblade fanart #art #gt art #g/t art #I'm very very very proud of this #1am art lets gooooooo #If you picked up on the tiny details on the cup I love you btw

55 notes · View notes

ey-there-little-guy · 9 months

Note

Made up fake fic title?

OH HECK YEAH I'LL GIVE YOU A FEW!!!!!!!! <3

Take me deeper than I've ever known

Put me together with staples and string

Never Ever

A Race to one's demise

Twisted Fates

DO WITH THESE WHAT YOU WILL!! DON'T HAVE TO DO EM ALL JUST HAVE FUN WITH IT!!! :3

OH THANK YOU :D these are great, so I definitely tried to think of something for all of these <3

They all turned into g/t or somewhat g/t bullet-point plots haha. Still tried to do summaries since that's usual for these tho

Take me deeper than I've ever known

Ranboo doesn't know what happened to him, just that one day he was tall enough to do all the stuff humans do, then the next day so small that a mouse could probably fistfight him and win. The even crazier thing is that he meets someone just as small, who apparently has been the one taking snacks from his stash, and not a ghost. Great, one question solved and a thousand more left unanswered. At least while they're stuck like this they won't have to be alone, Tommy may be strange but he isn't all that bad, besides the fact he'd probably ditch Ranboo if they revealed they're human. But while it lasts, he doesn't mind seeing more of Tommy's world.

magic, tiny fairy or fae, hmm

Ranboo gets shrunk and found by a tiny Tommy who decides 'gosh you suck at survival, i'll help you'

Tommy acts like he doesn't know Ranboo was shrunk, but he does

like 'don't interact with bigs, but they're not big anymore so…'

Ranboo doesn't know this but learns interacting with humans is a no-no so keeps their shrinking a secret

Ranboo learns more than they thought about the world at a smaller size

and they do want to be normal height again, someday (…maybe), but his life with Tommy is something they start to cherish, and the tiny really loves having them around

the twist is that Tommy is a fae of sorts that shrunk Ranboo, bc they were interesting and alone and and it seemed like something fun to do, but then feelings and friendship happened

Ranboo will have to find out eventually..

fae shenanigans and morals

Put me together with staples and string

What do you do when your reason for existing is to comfort and make smiles bloom, but you're built of dead things brought back, nightmarish and far too tall? For Ranboo, the answer is to enjoy what he can. Tubbo certainly makes this strange second-first life worth being a monster, at least.

second idea version:

Tubbo might not be real, full of stuffing and magic, but Tommy wants a friend, a best friend, and maybe Tubbo wants that too. So if Tommy thinks he's real enough to be that friend, despite how much smaller he is and inability to go places with Tommy without acting like a normal doll, then Tubbo is happy. Tommy may have done some questionable magic because he was lonely and desperate, but Tubbo is amazing, so he doesn't regret it. If only others could see it the same way.

Angst angst angst?

ended up with two ideas oops:

Ranboo is a minigiant frankenstein's monster kinda creature (created by Tubbo because Dude Is So Alone He Reanimated A Corpse For Company)

OR Tubbo is a life-like doll brought to life to be a friend (clingyduo and magic)

whichever idea, they have existential issues and put their worth into how useful they can be

both want to be able to go out into the world but don't, because they know if they're seen they'd terrify or unsettle people

Ranboo idea: sad times, fluff times, and sneaky outings with Tubbo

maybe at some point Ranboo's thoughts that he's a monster get real bad and he's convinced he'll hurt Tubbo and runs away to some woods

so then Tubbo has to go find him and bring him back before other people find him and think he's some monster come to terrorize them

who knows maybe Ranboo will even make some friends in a surprising twist?

Tubbo idea: lots of 'im not real' thoughts but also sweet friendship times

possible interference from other people coming back into Tommy's life since the magic to make Tubbo may or may not have been illegal

insisting that Tubbo isn't a real friend and this isn't healthy

Tubbo would normally agree, but seeing how much it hurts and upsets Tommy he might have some Choice Words instead

do these stories have happy endings? I wanna say yes, things work out, issues are eventually addressed, and there is lots of holding small friend in arms throughout.

Never Ever

The lives of borrowers are far from easy, even if they have family, but that doesn't mean it's terrible or always dangerous. A skilled or very sheltered borrower especially has very few worries, to the point that the universal rules of borrowers can be disregarded. But there are times when borrowers are reminded of why these rules are important, so that the worst never, ever happens.

after much thought, a 5+1 story

like '5 things a borrower should never ever forget and 1 thing they do' or something along those lines

5 are angst or close calls, etc. and 1 is good times, fluff

maybe tiny bedrock bros?

or five borrowers, one chapter each, with a borrower problem or angst, and the +1 is something nice with them all together

could be sbi+tubbo in that case

kinda slice-of-life regardless

+1 could also be angst instead of fluff, like they get caught, leaving story with an open end lol

A Race to one's demise

Slaying a giant is no easy task, especially one as infamous as The Lady Death—giants are already enough trouble without magic, thanks. Yet a few people head out for her territory anyway, not from any real drive to kill giants, simply because it was the only option given that lets them live a little longer. Their odds still aren't good, but really how much worse could a giant be from what they came from? (... No, yeah, probably worse.) Kristin and Phil find some truly exhausted kids on their doorstep and decide to invite them in, which they surprisingly agree to. The hard part is getting them to stop the halfhearted murder attempts and open up.

they know they're going to die. will they actually? nah

a handful of people are chosen for what's seen as a suicide mission

(probably benchtrio + wilbur and techno for these guys)

the mission/quest is to steal a magic item from a giant

they all upset the leaders of wherever they're from in some way, so this is those guys' way of either getting them to redeem themselves or get rid of them

both options seem like death though, if not immediate then eventually

they also specified that only one of them can come back victorious, so they're all doing their best to reach the giant's territory before each other, using sabotage or whatever they can, maybe even a little attempted murder or two at the start

near the end of their journey though there is talk of teaming up, because really None of them are capable of taking down a giant alone

The Lady Death is what they call her, a giantess that lives on the edge of a wasteland, who scoops up travelers that come too close never to be seen again

there is a lesser known story about the giantess that some of them know, saying she is more benevolent than she seems, with an angel on her shoulder

if you prove yourself to the angel she will listen and grant you passage into the wastes where, supposedly, there is a lush sanctuary somewhere (Philza's builds inspired?)

none of them actually think this version of the tale holds more truth, but it does stick with them, the tiniest idea that maybe they have a third option that's not 'death now' or 'death later'

Lots of build-up? since i want it to be g/t but the main giant only appears later. more focus on the stories they know and what they imagine they'll find

also run-ins with 'smaller' giants on the way

Obviously Kristin and Philza just gain a bunch of tired, scared kids from this

the story after that likely has found family as a main focus whereas it was more like a subplot when benchtrio+twinsduo were traveling

Twisted Fates

Being a crown prince sounds great unless you're actually a crown prince; Techno would much rather live far away from people, never having to deal with their problems, only whatever challenges come his way. Wilbur longs for a life where providing for himself isn't a constant struggle with danger wherever he looks, a life where he can relax or even meet people. Just watching and swiping the occasional thing from the royalty in this castle isn't enough to fulfill this dream. Until Techno wakes up to the disorienting sight of the castle far larger than he recalls and Wilbur is suddenly big and visible and sees an opportunity for both of them. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time might've just fixed both of their problems, or given them entirely new ones.

for this one I've settled on swapped sizes and royal au

twinsduo. Techno is (reluctantly) a crown prince and Wilbur is (enthusiastically) a borrower in the castle

Wilbur happened to be sneaking around the same room Techno is in when some magic mishap happens, swapping their sizes

princess and the pauper situation where they realize they look very similar and think the other's life sounds amazing so they swap places

I like giving borrowers tails so Wilbur has to either pass his off as the magic accident or hide it, same with his hair or he dyes it

and Techno still has bright pink hair he's unwilling to part with so he stands out a bit too much sometimes

but they seem to be having fun? at least for now. no care for fixing the situation yet

Philza is the king who loves his son very much but starts suspecting this might not be his son

angst and misunderstandings and reveals, by the end of this Phil has two sons

And that's all of them! Thank you again, I had fun brainstorming these. Also if anyone else likes these ideas feel free to use them or whatever :]

#dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #mcyt g/t #fake fic titles #ey.writing #it kinda counts lol

20 notes · View notes

brick-a-doodle-do · 10 months

Note

ok ok I know this isn’t really that good of a title but I’m very bad at coming up with them and I’m kinda proud of this one—

Somewhere in the deep blue sea there will be a place for me

Of course you can shorten it, change it around, play with it a bit etc. but I’m proud of the premise

i'm 88% sure i am allowed to answer this as a fake fic and not just 'ooh' and 'ahh' at it. sorry if that was your intention 👉👈🙏

also getting an idea in the middle of a lake is really annoying because for 4 hours all i wanted to do was write, but, alas, i could not, for i would have crashed into a rock. SO.

somewhere in the deep blue sea, there will be a place for me

wilbur knew that mers liked to trade. generally, (mainly the larger species'), they'd be hostile until offered a gift, and they'd stop trying to bite your head off. so, whenever he went to the ocean or the rivers to try and spot one, (and if he could, have it spot him), he brought gifts. jewelry, stuff from the human world, food, clothes, all kinds of stuff. and in return, they'd answer the questions wilbur had for his studies. one day, while he was trudging along the beach by his home, collecting shells and keeping a keen eye out for nearby mers, he spotted one. a small one. the oddity was rare enough, and this time it was only less of a lucky find, as it wasn't splashing in the water like they normally did; it was dried up on a rock, their tail barely twitching as they dried out in the sun half-dead, cuts and bruises littered across their skin. wilbur, of course, acts instantly and helps the red-tailed mer back into the water as gently as he could, keeping an eye out for nearby pod members of the mer's. when his efforts were a deemed a lost cause, wilbur left the mer against the rocks and ran off to get a first aid kit. without any proper help, and with the spare time he'd accumulated now that this mer appeared abandoned for the time being, he decided it'd be worth it to patch them up. he does just that, and by the time the tiny mer has stirred, he's already on the path back to health. with a little bit of gained trust on tommy's, (the mer), end, wilbur helps him find where his pod normally hung around by wading through the water next to him to make sure he didn't topple over. now, what he did expect, was for tiny pod embers to thank him and take tommy, then wilbur would go back to his daily life with maybe an occasional interview from tommy or his pod members. what he did not expect, however, was for tommy's pod to be giant, and not only that, but the rulers of an underwater kingdom. and that discovery was only made as he was dragged deeper and deeper into the water, his breath held while he struggled profusely to try as a mer dragged him to a supposed prison. so much for a thank you.

ee the "place for me" for NOW is his prison cell. but eventually it will be found family. ANYWAY, this is NOT a fake fic, so WELCOME THE NEW MER AU TO THE AU FAMILY !!! questions? maybe? pspsp?

#brickquiries #fake fic titles #sloth brickling #sloth my beloved \o/#a place for me au #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #g/t #t!tommy #g!wilbur #implied g!phil/g!techno #unmentioned g!phil/g!techno #this was non g/t but then i didn't know how to tag it and then i thought nobody would see it so i changed it rq #eueue #ANYWAYS I CAN FIANLLY USE THE MER DESIGNS

31 notes · View notes

indiaalphawhiskey · 8 months

Note

fake title: almost tethered

💋 Almost Tethered

This was, by far, the longest and most awkward silence in the history of mankind, and yet, Louis couldn’t, for the life of him, think of a single thing to say.

Because, really, what was he supposed to say?

He knew fuck all about the man sitting casually on his chaise in a frieghteningly sexy brown duck jumper, except that he had been crazy enough to agree to a threesome with Louis and his fiancé to help spice up their already very extended engagement (that every single person they loved was still waiting for them to call off).

Well, okay, Louis didn’t know ‘fuck all’ exactly. He knew he had a face that was a little too pretty to be true (so much so that Louis had bet Robbie they were being catfished and was now down £20), that he was probably making an obscenely (heh) good living if his (surprisingly tasteful, only-strategically-posed-artful-nudes) OnlyFans page had anything to say about it, and that his actual real name was Harry Styles.

So, Louis knew some things (four, he knew a total of four things), none of which he could use to fill this rather excruciating silence. Lovely.

It didn’t help that Harry hadn’t said a thing to him either since walking through their door – not that he could have, what with the way Robbie had bulldozed through the introductions before swiftly exiting to make everyone martinis.

(“Do you even know how to make a martini?” Louis had asked as they were getting dressed that evening.

Robbie had waved off his very pressing concern. “I’ll Google it. Wine just seems a little too pedestrian for a threesome, you know?”)

Louis began to roll his eyes at the memory but quickly aborted the motion, worried Harry might think it was directed at him. He reverted back to their mutual staring, though, admittedly whilst Louis was sure his expression was similar to that of a frightened raccoon, Harry’s was painfully cool. Collected and poised. Almost serene. Unbothered.

His smirk was soft; green eyes kind yet still somewhat appraising. Louis supposed he couldn’t help it, given their, ah, agenda for the evening. He actually found himself hoping Harry liked what he saw.

Louis certainly did; found himself wondering if it would be appropriate to lick at the swallows tattooed on Harry’s collarbones, or if that was more of a second session kind of thing.

Would there be a second session? Likely not, since the entire point of doing this with a stranger was to avoid all the awkwardness afterwards. (Which said nothing of the awkwardness during.)

He was overthinking and needed to stop, immediately.

God, say something! Louis commanded himself, unable to remember the last time he blinked. As had become habit since his engagement, his hand drifted down to fiddle with the watch he wore with a fierce kind of loyalty on his right wrist. His mind drifted to three words hidden under the expensive leather strap – his accidental life mantra, bestowed upon him by fate.

He thought of how the curve of capital D swooped, how the N had always been a little crooked, how he had learned the cursive version of an S before he could even write or read.

How Robbie hadn’t said the words when they’d met.

How, because of that, his family thought this engagement had been doomed from the start.

How Harry still hadn’t said anythi—

“Don’t be nervous.”

Louis’ answer was automatic, almost involuntary, because he’d been saying it in mock response all his life. “I’m not.”

Needless to say, the next time Louis found himself staring awkwardly back at Harry Styles, it was not because of their impending threesome. It was because said third in their impending threesome had just uttered his soulmark.

— Or, there were a multitude of awkward ways to meet one’s soulmate. They could say your mark from the urinal next to you mid-wee at a funeral, or sneaking out of your flatmate’s bedroom after a one night stand, or trying to upsell the newest state-of-the-art dildo in their family-owned sex shop.

Still, Louis was pretty sure his version was the one that took the cake.

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #fake fic titles #fake fic meme #sorry I keep doing these #they’re just a lot of fun #iaw drabbles #almost tethered

180 notes · View notes

daydreamtofiction · 2 years

Note

For the fake fic titles

Late nights and Violins

I was thinking a fluffy Sherlock/reader, obviously if you want to ignore this bit and start with other ideas please do but maybe some themes of insomnia and/or nightmares?

Late Nights & Violins / Sherlock x Reader

For the ‘fake fic title’ challenge.

Word Count: 1.5K

Contents: Fluff, a lil bit of hurt, comfort, established relationship, soft Sherlock.

Warnings: Nightmares, insomnia, mentions of sleeping pills, some claustrophobic imagery. Let’s rate this one a 12A.

The air was close and oppressive, so thick you could practically feel it sitting on your skin. You couldn't remember how you got there, all you knew was that you couldn't get out; your body folded and wedged inside a tight, dark space, head hurting, breath shaking, and you were scared. But you held back the panic as much as you could, because Sherlock was coming.

You knew he was coming because that was what happened last time; you were trapped, but he came. Broke open the door with his bare hands and pulled you free, letting you fall into his arms as you desperately drank down gulps of fresh air, crying into his chest as he promised you it was over, you were safe now.

But this time he didn't come. Instead you sat there, knees pressed uncomfortably to your chest as you sucked in the last of your air to scream. But no sound left you. Nothing at all. And that's when you realised it wasn't real. None of it was real.

You woke with tears trickling down your face, the pillow damp beneath your cheek. You could feel your heartbeat fluttering quickly with the remnants of panic, bridging the gap between nightmare and reality; the confined, dark prison and the warm, safe bedroom.

You turned, as you always did in those moments, to the other side of the bed, reaching out your hand in the hopes that Sherlock would be there. But he wasn't. You sat up, sniffing sharply and wiping your face before glancing to the clock on the bedside table, furrowing your brow when you saw it was after 2am. He had said not to wait up for him, that he and John were following leads for a case, but it didn't stop the worry from materialising in your chest. You always worried about him, even when he reminded you that there was no need to, and that no good ever came from your perturbation.

You padded to the bathroom and began feeling your way to the cabinet above the sink. You rarely moved your pills; so used to them being there that even in the dark you could usually grab them with one swipe. But after a moment of running your hand back and forth along the shelf, you conceded with a huff and reached for the switch on the wall, squinting in the harsh light and letting out a hum in confusion.

The streetlights on Baker Street shone through the tall windows, casting a soft glow across the cluttered living room of 221B. You made your way in through the kitchen, startling when you finally noticed the dark figure sitting in one of the armchairs by the cold, unlit fireplace. It was Sherlock; head down, one leg crossed over the other, violin pressed to his chest as he plucked nimbly at the strings. You gave a quiet yelp, clutching your chest in fright before exhaling through puckered lips.

"My god," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, seemingly unsurprised by your reaction to finding him there.

"I thought you were still out," you said, making your way across the room towards the couch.

He shook his head. "Got home a little while ago."

"Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I did. But I couldn't sleep so I got up again."

"Wow, you can't sleep and I can't stay asleep, we are quite the pair," you said distractedly, switching on the lamp in the corner. "Have you seen my bag?"

He turned to look at you, pale eyes scanning you for a brief moment. "What for?"

"My Diazepam. I thought it was in the bathroom but it's not there."

"Hm."

You stood up straight and turned towards him. "Did you move it?"

"Why would I move your medication?"

"I don't know," you began blithely. "You've done some wild stuff in your time, Mr Holmes. Is stealing your girlfriend's pills really that hard to believe?"

"Fair," he replied plainly, putting the violin down and reaching his arm out to you.

You took a few steps towards him, placing your hand in his and letting him pull you gently into his lap.

"But I really didn't take it," he finished.

You curled up against his chest, closing your eyes and feeling the tension in your body begin to melt away. "I believe you."

It was quiet for a while as you relaxed against the rhythm of his breathing, his chest rising and falling as he held you close, elegant fingers brushing softly through your hair.

"Another nightmare?" he finally asked.

You didn't answer, instead you simply nuzzled closer, taking in his warm, clean, familiar scent, still noticeable in the fabric of his shirt.

"You're safe now," he said, his voice deep yet so soft. "You know that, don't you? I will never let anything like that happen to you again."

"I know. And I feel safe with you, I do. But it's like... No matter how safe I feel, as soon as I fall asleep I just end up right back there."

"It will ease with time, trust me."

You were never the 'damsel in distress' type; never longed for a white knight to save you, a protector to rock you back to sleep when you woke from a bad dream. You were always so wayward, so fiercely brave and unbroken. And it was those qualities, you knew, that had made Sherlock fall in love with you.

If he'd known back then, that just one case would change everything, make you an echo of who you once were, you wondered if he would have fallen for you at all.

But it was as if he could read your mind, his body tensing beneath you the second the thought passed through you. He tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before speaking quietly.

"None of this is your fault, you know. If anything it's mine-"

"Don't." You shook your head, leaning back slightly to look at him. "You agreed not to say things like that anymore. You weren't to know they would come after me. No one could've known that."

"I should have. I made a stupid error in deduction and I almost lost you because of it."

You shushed him gently, burying your face in the crook of his neck and placing a single, chaste kiss on the soft skin above the collar of his shirt. He sighed at the feeling, letting his head fall back slightly, eyes closed.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

It never got old hearing him say those words. Especially in these moments; the late nights wrapped in each other's arms while the rest of the world slept soundly, like a stark reminder of the pain you both carried, yet so desperately wanted to rid from each other.

"I was actually working on something before you came marching in here accusing me of theft," he said.

"You're so dramatic," you giggled. "I didn't come marching in and I definitely didn't accuse you of anything."

"Mm."

You sat up, shaking your head at him with another laugh. "What were you working on?"

"A piece." He glanced down to his violin leaning against the side of his armchair. "For you."

"A piece? You're composing music for me?"

"I was. It's not quite finished yet."

"Will you play me what you have so far?"

He shook his head. "You can hear it once it's done."

"Oh please, Sherlock?" you whined softly, draping your arms over his shoulders. "It could help me get back to sleep since I can't find my tablets…"

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He reached up, placing a hand on the side of your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "My darling, what on earth makes you think my playing would make an adequate replacement for valium?"

You bit your lip to stifle a smile. "I suppose it is a bit late anyway. Mrs Hudson already thinks we’re too noisy.”

He gave a throaty chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You hit him gently on the back of the head.

"Mind out the gutter, Sherlock."

"What? It's not my fault. I'm sleep deprived."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Nice to meet you, sleep deprived. I'm absolutely exhausted."

He smiled, pulling you slightly closer to him. "I meant it when I said it will ease with time." He paused. "And I will happily remain sleep deprived until you are no longer absolutely exhausted."

#fake fic titles #fanfic #fanfiction #sherlock oneshot #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fan fiction #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x y/n #sherlock fluff #fluff

431 notes · View notes

guppybubbles · 8 months

Note

I saw brick ask so Imma send a few too for inspo!!!

The rain that falls like tears

I GOT CARRIED AWAY 😰😭 TY FOR THE FAKE FIC TITLES BECKYU!!! <33 (ignore any grammar errors LMAO)

The rain that falls like tears.

Just like his father and older brother, Wilbur was a farmer. They make ends meet with the crops they grow, and their farm is only growing bigger and bigger, attracting more customers and more workers. However, that was when they were young kids. They helped the farm when they could, and they were promised to take over the entire thing when Phil retired.

Phil has yet to retire, but both Techno and Wilbur are adults, so they spend most of their days on the field. However, the weather wasn't what it used to be during their childhood days.

For the past 16 years, the weather was… decent. In a way that for a decade and a half, there was no sunshine or rain. The weather was damp, humid, and boring. The sun made its appearance (as it usually does every day), but it doesn't shine. The clouds would sometimes cover the sun, but it doesn't block out any sunlight, nor does it rain.

They were glad that thunderstorms and hurricanes barely showed up anymore, but the lack of… any sort of weather was slowly but surely damaging their farming business.

The lack of nutrients to the soil causes the crops to lose quality, effectively losing the big business their dad had built.

After months of research, Wilbur had found out about the God of the Weather. He needed to look for the God and pray for at least any rain or any sunshine. Wilbur felt he and Techno would take over the business soon, and if nothing is done about the weather, their farm industry would be gone in a matter of seconds. Wilbur left their home, leaving Techno and Phil to tend to the crops.

Weeks upon weeks of travel, and he had finally met the weather god. Wilbur first notes down that the god looked very young and then sees how unemotional this kid was. He bowed and spoke respectfully but was only met with a blank stare and a blank introduction. Tommy, the god of the weather.

Wilbur pleaded with the weather god and asked for at least a little rain or a little sunshine, but Tommy refused, saying he couldn't. After days of talking, Tommy agreed to change the weather after doing certain tasks around the forest he lives in. They spent months together, slowly building a friendship as Wilbur continued to complete tasks.

Wilbur learned that the old weather god, Theseus, had died, and Tommy was chosen at birth to be the next vessel for the weather god. However, it proved to be quite difficult for Tommy to control his ability and grew up to be unemotional— trying to train his powers every single day.

On another empty day, Wilbur confronts the god once more. He's been doing everything Tommy asked, no questions and no complaints, yet there's still no updates on whether or not Tommy will do his end on the deal. He feels he's stuck in this forest, trying to desperately please the god with no luck. He hasn't even heard of any updates on his family, and he's beginning to be worried, anxious, and irritated. As he angrily spoke of his frustrations to Tommy, the god's expression didn't move. Not even a flinch.

Wilbur finished off his rant and eventually said he'll leave this forest. He'll find some other way to help his family. He just can't let his father's business go down the drain. He bid his goodbye to Tommy, bowing in respect.

The clouds darkened, and as he walked away, raindrops gently slid off his glasses and onto his skin. It was raining.

Behind him, he could hear a faint sob. Tommy was crying

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #g/t #giant/tiny #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #giant!tommy #g!tommy #tiny!wilbur #t!wilbur #mcyt g/t community #g/t idea #fake fic titles #guppy's asks #guppy ideas!#guppy writes!

44 notes · View notes

wildbornsiren · 11 months

Note

Fic Title: Small Towns, Big Cities

"Tell me something Seresin, you ever see something as pretty as this?" Bradley asks. They're sitting on the hood of the Bronco, parked high on a ridge looking down on the city stretched out beneath them. It's dark up here, the place where they're parked is one of those places that all the high school kids go to to make out, fuck. Escape the crushing reality of the city, and their own insignificance within it. The city sleeps, illuminated by brilliant lights, flashing neon, and even though it's well past midnight there's still a sea of red taillights on the highway. "A couple things," Jake says. "But this isn't so bad." Bradley turns to look at the other man, finding Jake looking at him. "What?" He asks. Jake shakes his head with a wry smile. "Next time we have leave, you come visit my hometown. I'll show you something beautiful."

#Hangster #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin/Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #shelly on writing #shelly answers #top gun maverick #fake fic titles

50 notes · View notes

bakerstreethound · 8 months

Text

For As Long As I've Loved You

My lovely friend @frostandflamesfanfic sent in a title a while back and I posted what I would write based upon said title, yet tumblr ate my response and wouldn't show up in the tags accordingly. So, here's a repost in case you missed it.

It features scenarios with Steve Harrington x reader and Jesper Fahey x reader because they both fit this title so well. I hope you enjoy!

Alright this has Steve and Jesper written all over it. Let's say childhood friends to lovers to exes to lovers again or something along the sort. With Steve you've gone off to university leaving him behind, same with you and Jesper, he obviously went his own way and became Kaz's right hand man.

But tons of angst and resolving the problems of "oh wow, hey I actually liked you but was terrified without you when you left I decided to distance myself from others/wallow away and find an outlet for my pain."

Steve would be soft and romantic when he confesses this and cue the rain falling on him and you take him back to your apartment to get dry clothes and he finds you stole his old sweatshirt in the closet and was like "Huh, I wondered where that one went." Cue you snuggled up in the hoodie and him holding you as you watch a favorite film, a bowl of popcorn and snacks next to you. Before you asks yes there's so many kisses to make up for lost time of course!

Now with Jesper, we know he's suave so he's so baffled when you cross paths again and he wants to hold you, he can't sit still in the chair in Kaz's office causing a glare to cross the gang leader's face to the point he kicks Jesper out. "You clearly have something else better on your mind than all this coin, Jes," Kaz taunts, leaving a bewildered Jesper gaping behind the closed door then he scowls, stomping down the stairs to get out of the Slat to his favorite gambling table of the Crow Club.

Cue you bumping into him, and you dart down the street and up to the roof, almost slipping cause heck you're terrified what would you say? It was stupid to see him again, right? But what he doesn't know is you're running from Pekka and got stabbed so when he sees you crumble in an abandoned alleyway, he remembers how it felt he almost died had Kaz not saved him. He could save you, and save you he did, pulling you into his arms almost on the verge of unconsciousness and barged into his room, yelling for Nina to help him.

Then when you wake up, you see Nina, her and Jes had one too many drinks and you're enveloped in the smell of him and wearing his coat. "I'm so sorry love, they won't hurt you any longer. You're one of us, now." Like you always have been, and you smile, and he kisses your hand later joining you in bed and you make up for the years with a lot of kisses.

#frostandflamesfanfic #fake fic titles #steve harrington x reader #jesper fahey x reader #fluff #soft boys #steve harrington #jesper fahey #stranger things #six of crows #shadow and bone #grishaverse

16 notes · View notes