#fanficlet

[polizwrites]

Looking for My Angel in Your Sweet Loving Eyes

This is a fill for today’s  @flashfictionfridayofficial  prompt [#FFF249 Open Your Eyes] as well as the  @buckybarnesevents   Build a Bucky Bingo April prompt Sleepy Sex. Putting the mildly spicy content under a readmore.

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Rating: Mature Tags:  Established relationship, sleeping together, mild sexual content, implied mutual masturbation Word Count: 239 words

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured coaxingly, pressing his lips against Tony’s temple.  “Time to get up. Open those beautiful brown eyes for me.”  

“Don’t wanna.” Tony burrowed further under the covers; Bucky ought to know by now that he and mornings did not get along.   

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he breathed into Tony’s ear, following it up with a playful nip to his earlobe. 

“With coffee?” Tony asked coyly, even though he already had a very good idea of what Bucky had in mind.   

“Eventually, yes, but I’ve got something else planned for us first, sugar.”  

Bucky pulled Tony close, mouthing at his neck as he ran  one hand down his bare chest and stomach.  Tony in turn leaned back against the warm bulk of his beloved, humming appreciatively at the skin-on-skin contact, as well as the clear sign of his lover’s  interest pressing up against him, hot and hard.   

Tony melted into Bucky’s embrace, responding with soft moans and gasps to his deft touch, arousal slowly building to a peak.   “Turn around, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, voice husky with desire. “Want to join in and watch you fall apart.” 

Tony did as he was told, meeting his lover’s ardent gaze as Bucky brought them both to the brink of ecstasy and then beyond.  Once he returned back to himself,  Tony stretched luxuriously.  “I’m afraid your plan backfired, sunshine,” he announced with a yawn. “You wore me right out.” 

#writing stuff #flash fic friday #winteriron #fanficlet #mildly spicy #shameless self promo

[ineffablelifetoallmetatrons]

He knew his eyes shone behind those sunglasses.

He wanted to take them off, but there was a barrier he could not cross, that wasnt there before.

If he reached out

tentatively

and gently held those glasses

would their owner relinquish them, as he had before?

or would he flinch. turn away. hide himself from the world.

would he hide himself from the one person who knew him?

the person who made him feel like he had to hide in the first place.

#good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable divorce #good omens ficlet #fanficlet #gomens #just a silly thing #azi doesnt like the glasses

[annaofthenorthernlights]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Frozen (Disney Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney) Characters: Anna (Disney), Kristoff (Disney) Additional Tags: Modern AU, Fluff, pure fluff, Married Couple, Sweater weather, Mentioned Pregnancy, 30+ fanfic monthly drabble event

#100 word drabble #frozen modern au #kristanna #fanficlet #fanfic

[fancytrinkets]

bits & pieces

Playing with things. Super duper speculative. Trevs and Dorian show up at the end.

Vela's head was throbbing, and her thoughts were moving slowly. She'd been hit by at least three rocks as they fell. After that, she'd lost count. Fortunately, the small ledge above her head must have sheltered her from the worst of the impact. The others had not been so lucky.

Even in the terrifying darkness of the collapsed cave, Vela was sure they were dead. In her desperate escape, she had climbed over their broken, dislocated limbs — gone strangely cold, a sign that they'd been dead long enough to lose what heat they'd started with. That meant she'd lost consciousness, though she had no idea how much time had passed.

It seemed like only a few minutes since they'd arrived, a party of four — two warriors, a rogue, and a mage. Following instructions, they'd entered the cave. Its single chamber appeared quite shallow, but Vela knew better. She'd raised her staff, casting the spell that Fen'Harel had taught her, and watched as the illusory wall disappeared, revealing a narrow passageway. It led down to a small lower chamber, the hidden location that housed yet another mysterious device.

As the only mage present, it was Vela's job to reactivate this long-dormant magical ward. She had asked its purpose, but Fen'Harel had dodged the question, promising to answer her after the party returned. He'd looked at her strangely when she'd replied.

"I hope we do return," she'd told him, adding in one of her scoffing chuckles, which she often relied on to hide her nerves.

After all, this wasn't the first mission involving an old artifact — and there were always dangers. Not all questing parties made it back home safely. Some of them simply disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. Now, it seemed, Vela would be the sole survivor of her own ill-fated mission. And there was still so much she did not understand.

The Veil had been thin here from the start, and when she'd turned on the device with her magic, it was as if the very fabric of the world was torn apart around her. She could hear the others screaming — and then nothing. They all fell silent. She tried to shield herself with a barrier spell, but her magic blew out like a candle, and then all the rocks fell.

By the time Vela made it out again into the clean, fresh air, her legs were scraped and her hands were bloody from scrabbling over sharp-edged rocks. She stood, head spinning, body aching, in the middle of the woods where the wide, gaping mouth of the cave had once been. Now, when she turned to look at it, a wall of rocks and earth stood behind her. The only way in — or out — was the same small gap through which she had twisted and squirmed to pull herself free.

The most unsettling thing was that her magic remained absent. She knew the feeling of depleted mana, of course, and this wasn't it. This was strange and different. Something about the explosion, emanating from the device, had ripped right through her metaphysical body, and sheered all her magic away with it. But that was absurd. Nothing could do that, not while leaving her emotions and connection to the Fade intact.

And she did still have those, she was sure of it. Because why else would she be here now, crying in a dejected heap outside the palatial doors of Magister Maevaris Tilani's grand estate?

The truth of the matter was that she had nowhere else to go. Fen'Harel had betrayed her, that much was clear. Her only remaining friends were dead in that cave, and she hadn't even known them that well to begin with. Her family had died years ago — thank the old magister for that. But then Maevaris had killed him, and freed all his slaves. Vela, standing among the survivors, had been offered a different life — paid work of her own choosing. But she'd turned down Maevaris' offer all those years ago. Because what choice was there if not to be free on her own terms? Real freedom. Not some false gift from another magister — Vela had seen enough of their kind to last her a hundred lifetimes. They never looked out for anyone except themselves.

Her only problem had been to think that Fen'Harel would be much different. She'd thought she was joining the cause of someone better: the fearsome Dread Wolf, reclaiming a name out of elven legend to reshape the world for good. But elven ears aside, he was just like magisters, wasn't he? He sent others to die in his stead.

"So that's the whole story?" Maevaris asked her. "Vela, your name is? Yes, I remember you. I'm glad you came back."

Vela nodded, but couldn't remember the walk through the gates and up the stairs. Time moved differently sometimes — it had ever since the cave had fallen, and she didn't always know where she was or how she'd ended up there in the first place.

"Do you mind if I introduce you to someone?" Maevaris asked. "I think he can help. He survived a magical explosion once also."

Vela nodded. And when the doors opened, there stood two men. One was Tevinter, a mage with lovely brown skin and a curled mustache. The other was a person she recognized.

"Trevelyan," Vela said. "Yes, I know you."

He was quiet now, and easy to look at, but there had been a time when this man burned like fire.

"What does it mean?" she asked him.

"Don't worry," he told her. "And don't be afraid. Dorian, Mae, and I are here as your friends. And our other friend, Cole, can help us explain. He was a lot like you once, I think."

#dragon age dreadwolf #dragon age #fanficlet #dorian pavus #inquisitor trevelyan #maevaris tilani

[jellymish-reblogblog]

Today on 'this just popped into my head and I had to write it down':

---

"Really, do you talk to all of your patients like this?"

Dr. Walid gave Nightingale the sort of glare the man wouldn't forget for months.

"No actually, I don't," he said deceptively calmly, "But my patients are usually not my best friend who I've known for years, who is a stubborn arsehole and who I know for a fact refuses help whenever he can because he has a bit of a self-destructive streak!"

"Fine," snapped Nightingale and sat back down, "Fine, I'll do what you say, but I'm telling you now, it won't make a modicum of difference."

"As long as you shut up and rest while proving me wrong, I don't care."

"You're a damn villain, Abdul."

"Oh I know."

#fanfic #or should I say fanficlet #I do love writing them arguing #delightful #fun #rivers of london #thomas nightingale #Abdul haqq walid #Getting my muse back

[neutronity]

A Kiss for Luck — HuaLian

Xie Lian stared up at the pile of sticks that was once his great temple, or… at least okay temple? It more than any other place had become his home. He loved the smell of the wood, and the sound of the well, and even the villagers who dropped in with offerings for the Daozhang that they knew was actually the god.

“Not again.”

One would have assumed that once the shackles were broken and his luck restored, these things would stop happening, but having bad luck for centuries was not so easy to shake.

“My my…” Xie Lian turned when he heard that voice that made his spine tingle; an amused black eye glittered on that beautiful ghost-white face. “I apparently did not give gege enough luck”

Hua Cheng strode forward, then wrapped Xie Lian in his arms then initiated an impassioned kiss, spiritual energy between them flowing like warm sweet rain.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian sputtered, cheeks blushing red. “That’s far too much luck!”

“Shall I take some back?” Hua Cheng teased. “I would need another kiss if so.”

“Yes,” Xie Lian leaned forward to find Hua Cheng’s lips once more.

Perhaps his luck was finally turning around.

#hualian #tgcf #200words #heaven official's blessing #tgcf double drabble #neutronity fanficlet #tgcf fanficlet

[tllgrrl]

Sam informs Bucky that his now preference for seasoned foods is about to earn him an official Invitation to the Cookout.

As a result, Bucky now wants to make sure he’s looking crisp when he’s in front of Sarah’s family and friends at the barbeque.

Can Sarah help him out, or will he have to ask Sam for Cookout Style fashion tips?

Official Invitation

(Chapter 1 now on AO3!)

#bucky barnes #sarah wilson #sam wilson #sarah x bucky #bucky x sarah #sarahbucky #buckysarah #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #bucky barnes & sam wilson #sarahbucky fanficlet by tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones #graphic by tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones #fan fiction #fleur de louve

[archangelofzion]

Silver Stars(Fanficlet)

Noises of the calm night carried on the breeze as the Guardians sat outside, finally they'd caught a break and were enjoying just a small moment of peace. 

Phyla and Adam were clicking around on Rocket's Zune as Kraglin watched the stars. So many silver specks glowing from somewhere far off. 

The song that they'd started playing was pretty mellow, a slow tune that he recognized. 

"Hey, hand me that?" He held his hand out and Phyla passed him the device. 

As he listened, a dull throb went through his chest and he smirked a little. "This was one of my sister's favorite songs..." 

Both Phyla and Adam looked at him, questions behind their eyes. "I didn't know you have a sister." Phylla said. "Is she older than you?" 

He took a moment to answer, Rocket shifted in the corner of his eye, suddenly very interested in something at his feet. 

"Had." Kraglin hated the word. "And no, she was my baby sister." He smiled fondly at referring to her that way. 

Adam looked down then back up again, and Phyla frowned. "What was her name?" she asked. 

"Tess. She was the best. Smart and strong and brave... Prettiest girl in the world, with her silver eyes. And when she wanted something," he chuckled softly to himself at the memories. "she could make 'em so big and incessant you just had to do it." 

"She sounds like a wonderful person." Adam said. 

"You don't know the half of it." He paused, looking back up. Rocket still remained quiet, being the only one here that would truly know, truly understand in any way. "Today would mark sixteen years ago, when I met her. Now she's been gone for three." 

Cosmo's ears twitched as she sensed his sadness, and she whined quietly.

"I'm sorry, you just miss her." Adam said softly. 

"More than anything." And that was true. He'd never loved anyone the way he'd loved her, and never found anyone he could confide in like her again. There was a moment he was angry at her for leaving him, but then wondered if she was finally at peace. 

The next song started playing and he nearly choked at the first words. 

And I'd give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you feel me somehow. 

It hit hard, and there were moments when he'd considered just ending it all and being with her again. But she'd made him promise to be there for Peter, Rocket, all of them. And he was trying. 

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now. 

And all I can taste is this moment, and all I can breathe is your life, and sooner or later it's over. I just don't wanna miss you tonight. 

He closed his eyes tight, fighting back the fresh wave of emotion as Adam and Phyla watched, silent knowing that it was a tender situation, but Cosmo laid her head in his lap and that offered some comfort. "She would have liked you guys."  he managed to get out. 

Rocket nodded in approval. 

And I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't think that they'd understand when everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am. 

Sometimes the memories were too much, thinking back on those days before he'd lost Yondu and lost the person she'd been—the person he'd been—before. And he'd find himself drinking until he couldn't remember clearly. But those days were something he'd never forget, not when they were truly the best. 

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming or the moment of truth in your eyes. When everything feels like the movies yeah you bleed just to know you're alive. 

All he could really hope now, was that she was happy. Finally not fighting and living the half-tortured existence and maybe she'd found a better place. He liked to believe that she was on the other side and Yondu and Gamora were there with her and one day... one day soon enough he'd see her again. 

Sometimes he thought he heard her voice, or even saw her. Felt her hand in the dark when no one was there to see the pain, but he knew she would want him to keep living. Keep doing the good she tried to do. Uphold the legacy they'd started together. 

Rocket's small hand on his wrist holding the Zune startled him a bit, but he just said softly, "She'd be proud of ya." His mahogany eyes were glassy as he nodded in emphasis. "I know she would." 

Kraglin sighed to himself and looked back up, knowing she was ashes amongst those stars. 

I just want you to know who I am. 

"I love you, little pest." he whispered, not able to be heard by the others but he felt like some silver star out in the distance glimmered when he said it. And he could practically see her smiling on the other side. 

I just want you to know who I am.

{for anyone curious to the fanfiction here’s the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/340959868?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=ArchangelOfZion&wp_originator=QiIvzfeQs73AyeCc7bjdBwJItre%2BcMbYXhguypIsim2Ueyj%2FiyRqtBEEYmJZW9hIiHWC8zcoQ%2F2dsEXbnSriwfhzO5c9S8fHvqzxXqoec%2FOQZB47ZIM1la%2F8RlmlI5%2Bp I’ll have it up on AO3 soon}

#guardians of the galaxy #kraglin obfonteri #rocket raccoon #phyla vell #adam warlock #cosmo #fanfiction #Spotify

[bellowsthebard]

Also having a lot of thoughts about Laudna's "the worst thing that's already happened to me has already happened" talk with Orym and "it was one of the most wonderful things I've ever felt" with Ashton about coming back. How both happened in whitestone. How they are both tied in some way to the sun tree(this is also tied to a very angsty fanficlet idea bouncing around my head). Just the rebirth of it. The turning of something terrible to something wonderful. Good stuff.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #critrole spoilers #laudna #imodna #c3e49 #if you notice a pattern of me talking about parrallels and reflectiv symbolism shut up #i like tropes and those are the best

[quackadero]

Auxiliary

Fanficlet

In honor of April Fool’s (observed), I wrote instead of drawing.

Title: Auxiliary

Rating: General, a tiny bit of violence and mild robot disfiguration, nothing worse than the game itself

Characters: Wilson, WX-78, Wagstaff

No ships

Summary: Wilson helps Wagstaff with an experiment. WX is not pleased.

Enjoy!

Footsteps thudded in muffled beats across the grass in the small outpost. A full moon hanging in the middle of the black sky watched Wilson lurch haphazardly away from the circle of tents, fire pits, and wooden walls until he disappeared between the thick tree line. None of the sleeping survivors stirred. They never did seem to notice when this happened, which was just as well for Wagstaff, but WX-78 was not asleep tonight.

---

WX-78 had watched the so-called scientist be pulled away from camp as if by an invisible string again. They did not care, he always came back soon after dawn anyway. Probably doing some disgusting and pathetic biological thing like drinking water or sobbing against a tree. They should not have given him a second thought cycle, nor even entertained the idea of allowing him the privilege of their gaze upon him. But when their optical sensors scanned his eyes, they found themself already moving after him.

His eyes.

It was as if someone stuck shards of glass over his pupils, catching the moonlight in such a way as to make them glow big and white and round. It reminded them of something, something that kept appearing when they first started dreaming again a year ago. They would not call them nightmares, not even to themself.

Their hands clenched into fists, and they followed him from a distance, silently stalking through the woods.

---

When Wilson finally emerged into Wagstaff's line of sight, the moon was already making its way down towards the horizon. The moonlight illuminated the grassy clearing, the large, mechanical doorway creaking slightly in the wind. The old tinkerer sighed in relief and switched off the device on his belt. Wilson blinked and looked around him, only mildly confused this time around. He recovered quickly, waved to Wagstaff, and headed over to the table with the toolbox and blueprints.

Wagstaff grabbed his arm and shook his head. There was no further work to be done tonight. It was time to run the experiment. He watched Wilson's face carefully as the man's expression twisted past several emotions.

"Already?" he asked, higher in pitch than even his usual nasally voice.

"Already," Wagstaff answered and smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry, it's just a test, my boy."

The young man's face sagged in relief and he nodded. Wagstaff reached into his pockets and drew out gloves and a pair of goggles, much like his own.

"For safety," he said. Wilson donned them without hesitation. He even picked up a clipboard and pencil from the table and looked poised to take notes. It was nice to work with someone who actually listened and was eager for his words.

"Ready!" Wilson said, practically gleefully, thought Wagstaff. He nodded and headed towards the large lever on the side of the portal machine. He pointed to the other side, indicating Wilson to stand at the other lever on the opposite leg of the structure. He did so and looked back at Wagstaff.

The older man glanced towards the sky, observing the moon dipping into the surrounding forest. He looked back at Wilson, locking into his gaze.

 "On three," he said, holding out a fist towards the young man.

"Yessir," Wilson answered, nervously gripping and re-gripping his lever.

Wagstaff nodded and began the count, holding his hand out each time with an additional finger.

 "One."

The moon was halfway below the treetops, the eye straining to peek between the branches.

"Two."

Wilson bounced his knees in time to Wagstaff's count, pulling a half-smile from the old man. His enthusiasm was certainly endearing.

"Three."

He pulled down on his lever and braced for the impact of ripping open a portal by force. Instead, something heavy, hollow, and heartless lunged into him, knocking him to the ground, pinning him down as they rolled together across the grass, coming to a stop with the robot looming over him.

"YOU," said the robot, "WHAT ARE YOU UP TO, OLD MAN."

Wagstaff scoffed and glanced over at Wilson. He was groaning and picking himself up from the dirt, his goggles lying next to him with their band torn, his lever yet to be pulled.

From inside the attic, Wagstaff pulled a switch. He blinked out from under the robot, momentarily cutting his connection.

He saw the robot punch the place his projection had just been while the young man picked himself up and say something unimportant to them. Wagstaff fiddled and calibrated switches and dials as the robot turned on Wilson, pointing an accusing metal finger and stomping at him until the finger was jabbing at his vest. Wagstaff shook his head and pulled a few stops, then reappeared next to Wilson and the lever.

“Hold onto something, Mr. Higgsbury,” was all he said before yanking down on the lever and establishing the connection.

---

The ground rocked back and forth, knocking Wilson into WX-78 as they both struggled to keep balance. A visceral feeling of something oily and electric burst through Wilson and shook the branches of the surrounding trees, sending crows fleeing into the air. Everything smelled like burning wires, the odor searing unhappily onto Wilson’s tongue, making him cough and gag. He let himself fall to all fours to keep himself steady as he watched reality give in to science. A spiraling flash of white and black broke through the emptiness and filled the doorway.

It had worked! They had done it!! Now he could get everyone back home and finally, finally leave this nightmare realm and-

He felt a metal hand clamp tightly around his upper arm.

“DON’T,” ordered WX-78, pulling him away from the portal.

Automatically, he pulled against them, leaning towards the doorway. 

“You don’t understand, this is good!” he argued, futilely attempting to win back his arm. He felt more than heard WX-78 growling through their arm into his as they yanked on him.

“LISTEN TO YOUR SUPERIOR, SCIENTIST,” they roared, their left hand squeezing his arm even tighter, successfully backing him away from the portal.

“He is,” said Wagstaff. Wilson felt something hard and tingly grip his other arm and pull him towards the portal. Instinctively, he fought against this too, but it was stronger than WX and pulled both him and the automaton towards the doorway. Not that they weren’t trying with all their robotic might and metal weight to keep him on their side. His shoulders were telling him in no short sentences that they were not happy about being ripped out of his sockets in two different dimensional directions.

“Ow! Stop! Please! I’m-” he tried, but a sharp pain on his side facing the portal interrupted his argument in favor of Wagstaff dragging him inside.

WX-78 did not relent. They were yelling at him, but he was beyond capable of processing words at this point. Wilson’s vision was spinning along with the spiraling portal, and he sincerely wished they had not broken his safety goggles. He could feel their digits digging into his flesh, trying to hold onto him.

He hoped he would faint as the pain crescendoed. His eyes rolled and he saw a brief flicker of something slicing through air and down towards his arm. All at once, he was through, WX-78′s left arm clattering across the floor, making an unmistakably hollow thunk as it bounced across the wood of Wilson’s attic. He gasped for air, his eyes blearily bringing the room into focus as he grasped at the floor and willed it to push him back up to stability.

He managed to get to his knees before a hand gripped his already tender arm and lead him to his feet, across the room, and into a familiar cushioned chair. His hands gripped at the chair’s arms as his consciousness swam inside his head, reaching for air.

“Wh-what in-”

“Breathe,” Wagstaff ordered. Wilson obliged.

Once Wilson was breathing regularly and looking up at him, the older man patted Wilson on his head and smiled.

“There we go!” he said happily, turning his back to Wilson and walking towards the radio on the table. He patted the top of it like he had to Wilson.

“Safe and sound!” he announced, “You’re welcome, young man.” He turned his back towards him again and walked across the room, kicking the robot arm out from his path. His top half disappeared as he dug through a box of supplies.

“W-wait!” Wilson yelled, ‘There’s still others over there! We can’t just-”

“Of course,” Wagstaff interrupted casually, waving a gloved hand in Wilson’s direction. He drew out another incomprehensible gadget with an AHA gesture and tossed it at Wilson. Wilson caught it with his stomach and an OOF. He turned the strange object in his hands and looked questioningly at Wagstaff. The other man smiled, moonlight glinting from his goggles, temporarily obscuring his pupils and turning his eyes into two glowing orbs.

“You didn’t think we were done yet, did you?” Wagstaff walked to the attic hatch and flipped it open, sending the ladder down into a poorly lit corridor that Wilson knew all too well.

“Come now, Mr. Higgsbury, we have work to do.”

Wilson hesitated, gritting his teeth and gripping the odd tool. What else could he do except follow Wagstaff down the ladder and into the dark.

#don't starve #dont starve #fanfiction #writing #my art #april fools #wilson #wx-78 #wagstaff

[spinxeret]

+ ( today, I have gotten one fanficlet published on Ao3, a few drafts on the smut blog, and then I've gotten my inbox almost down to below 20. Gonna take a break and read for a bit. )

#out of character talk ( ooc )

[polizwrites]

Competing for His Affections

This is a fill for today's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF233 Imperfect Sign], as well as my @tonystarkbingo KINK: Cock-blocking 'bots and @buckybarnesbingo Humor squares, along with a belated @fictober-event prompt for Day 27: "I don't know if they will accept this."

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark Rating: General Tags: Tower fic, new relationship, 'bots, Dum-E, cock-blocking 'bots, humor

When Bucky leaned in  to brush a kiss across Tony’s cheek,  he was a little hurt to have his - admittedly still somewhat new -  boyfriend pull away, even as he gestured toward Dum-E and U, who were parked in their charging stations.  

“I don’t know if they will accept this, sunshine,” he murmured, waving a hand between the two of them. 

Bucky frowned in confusion. “I thought the ‘bots liked me.” 

“As a playmate, sure.  As competition for my affection?” Tony frowned and grimaced, “Maybe not so much.  After all, they never did take very well to Pepper.”  

Bucky suspected the opposite was true as well; that Pepper had some level of jealousy towards Tony’s creations.   But that was neither here nor there.   “Okay - so you’re saying no making out  in the workshop?”  

Tony sighed.  “At least, not for a little while.”  

Bucky nodded in reluctant acceptance. “Fair enough.”   

However, Bucky discovered it was easier said than done to keep his hands off Tony when they were in the presence of the ‘bots.   Sure, they made up for lost time elsewhere,  but it still was a hassle. 

To be fair, Tony made it clear he was struggling with the G-rated workshop time as well.   “I’m surprised I haven’t bitten my tongue clear through with the times I’ve almost let loose with a pet name when the ‘bots are around,” he complained as they were making lunch together in the kitchen.   

“I’d hate to have anything happen to that talented tongue of yours, sweet thing,” Bucky purred, pulling Tony into his arms for a lingering kiss.  

They froze at the sound of a familiar, somehow disapproving chirp.  “Dum-E, buddy, what are you doing up here?” Tony asked, carefully extricating himself from Bucky’s  embrace and putting a foot or two of space between them.   

The ‘bot aimed his camera first at Tony, then at Bucky before trundling right over inbetween them.  “What have I told you about personal space, buddy?”  Tony muttered as they both took a couple of quick steps to avoid having their toes caught under an errant tread.  

Making a stubborn beeping sound, Dum-E grabbed hold of Tony’s wrist to pull him  towards the workshop.  “ Hey, whoa,  this is not acceptable!  Dum-E,  stop it right now!”

The ‘bot did as he was told, but  didn’t let go of Tony’s wrist.  “A little help, Buckeroo?” he asked, half-joking, but half-serious as well.  Not that Bucky thought the ‘bot would hurt Tony intentionally, but Dum-E didn’t always know his own strength.  

Bucky tapped on Dum-E’s housing with his metal hand to get the bot’s attention before squatting down to meet him eye to camera eye.   “Listen up, pal.   Tony here has the biggest heart of anyone I know.   I promise that just because he’s taken a shine to me doesn’t mean he loves you any less.   That goes for  U and JARVIS as well - you’re his family.”  He looked up to catch Tony’s eyes.    “And if I’m lucky,  maybe I can be a part of that family someday, too.” 

Dum-E  hummed thoughtfully for a moment before letting go of Tony’s wrist.   “That’s better,” Bucky praised the ‘bot, patting its housing.  He stood up and gently took Tony’s wrist, pressing a soft kiss to it.  

Dum-E whirred and pointedly turned his camera away. “Okay, okay,” Tony chuckled, “we’ll keep the PDA to a minimum while you’re up and around.  That said,”   he added, looping an arm around Bucky’s waist, “once you’re in your charging stations for the evening, anything goes.”    

#writing stuff #fanficlet #mcu/marvel #WinterIron #Dum-E #shameless self promo #flash fic friday

[ineffablelifetoallmetatrons]

...?

Crowley looked up, at the ceiling, so gravity would pull the tears away from the world, where everyone would be able to see them. Away from where he could see them. Away into the dark place inside of him. Away to the place which holds all his memories of him.

Away, away, away.

#good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #ineffable divorce #good omens fanfic #ficlet #fanficlet #good omens fanfiction

[tuulikannel]

I've had Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend stuck in my head today for whatever random reason, and it reminded me of something. And this led to a scene that started playing in my mind. Which led to this.

Deshi & Stag are @solarsavoy's characters. I'm pretty sure many can give a guess on who was the inspiration for the third character in this. XD So, here we go. A silly untitled fanficlet. ^^

(Deshi and Stag are in Japan. Don’t ask me why. I guess they got somehow thrown into our world and they’re now desperately trying to find the way back. They should find some exact place for this or something… or maybe a person? I don’t know, really, and it doesn’t matter. It’s not like this thing had a plot. XD)

Stag’s waiting at a quiet corner of a park. Deshi comes there accompanied by a blond guy who is (Stag can’t help but noticing) rather pretty.

“Hey, Stag!” Deshi calls out. “I found us a guide! This is Pierre.”

The blond bows his head a little in greeting. “Salut! Nice to meet you.”

“Hi.” Stag replies, staring a little. Yes. Definitely pretty. And… “You… don’t look like Japanese.”

Anything but. This guy’s hair is reassuringly blond, wildly different from all those black-haired people­ who inhabit this weird place.

Pierre laughs. “No, I’m French. I’m here on student exchange.”

Those words spark Stag’s interest even more than his prettiness. “French, you say? Hey, that’s awesome!”

Pierre gives him a curious look. “Oui? You like the French?”

“Well, I’ve never met any before, but I’ve heard a lot of good things.” Very good things. He can’t help but get a bit excited. “Hey, do you duel?”

“Well, actually, I do!” Pierre replies, laughing.  “In fact, I was just on my way home from the university’s kendo club. But I’ve also been fencing since I was ten.”

Something lights up in Stag’s eyes. “Really? That’s…”

“You know, Stag,” Deshi tries to put in, “I really don’t think—"

“Hush now there!” Stag doesn’t right now have any attention to anything else but the duelling pretty French boy in front of him – no, not even Deshi. “You mean you’ve your sword with you now? How about a match?”

Pierre gives another laugh, though this time it sounds a bit nervous. “You mean… here? Now? I mean, I’m not sure if… we’re supposed to…”

Stag waves his weak protests aside. “Oh, c’mon! There’s no one around! Let’s just spar a bit quickly, how about it?”

“Well, I guess…” Pierre sounds still quite hesitant, but he lowers his bag to the ground and starts opening it.

“Stag,” Deshi says more strictly. “You really can’t do this here. And you shouldn’t… no, wait, don’t…!”

He’s too late. Stag has already shaken down the clothes that were wrapped around his sword and is about to pull it out. Pierre has paused, frozen over his bag, staring at it with eyes wide as plates.

“Ih…is… is th-that… is that a real sword?!” he asks, his voice stuck in his throat, at the same time as Deshi exclaims. “I told you to keep it hidden!”

Stag frowns. “Of course it’s a real sword. What kind of a question is that?” He looks at the open bag, and his frown deepens. “…oh, you just have wooden sticks? Didn’t you say you’ve been fencing since you were ten, why do you use stuff like that?”

Pierre straightens slowly and backs away a step. His pretty face is strangely pale. “Ah…I… you… that is…”

Disappointment is beginning to grow within Stag, but he’s not giving up yet. “Come now, don’t you really have anything else with you? I’m not fighting with something like that!”

“Put. It. Away.” Deshi says in the background, but he’s being ignored. “Stag! Listen to me! You need to put it away, now!”

Pierre’s eyes are fixed on the bare blade. “R-real. Real. Real sword? Wha…”

“Sure is,” Stag says slightly and swings it a bit. Pierre yelps and jumps backward.

“Be careful! It’s sharp!”

Stag snorts. “It better be. I take good care of my weapons, you know.”

Pierre is beginning to get over his initial shock. He grasps his bag, eyes jumping wildly from Stag to Deshi and back. “S…s-sorry, I… I j-just remembered… somewhere I should be… uh, I, that is, really…” He stumbles backwards, then turns and starts running. “I gotta go, sorry!” he yells as he sprints away as fast as he can.

Deshi heaves out a deep sigh, giving Stag a dark look. “Right when I had found us a guide you just had to scare him away.”

Stag is still staring glumly after Pierre. “I’ve been lied to about the French,” he mutters to himself.

THE END.

(Reference for those who don't get the end XD check the comments there, too)

(And Pierre is from Chrono Cross. I think it's pretty obvious, if you've played it. ^^)

#stag malinay #deshi gushiken #pierre #solarsavoy #my writings #krystar #chrono cross

[our-flag-means-death-ao3feed]

still sometimes i feel

by yerbamansa

I keep getting Pulp's “Death II” stuck in my head when I think about Piña Coladas so I wrote a ficlet.

Words: 572, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Stede Bonnet

Additional Tags: Fancyfuck, Piña Coladas, Song Lyrics, Inspired by Music, fanficlet of a fanfic, stede listens to sad music in his garage, mid-timeskip circa 1992

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41025546

#Our flag means death #ofmd

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

Happy Birthday, Dean

“It’s been a good day,” he thinks to himself.  The presents, the food, being surrounded by family.  The love.  

It’s almost overwhelming.

And yet Dean still can’t quite allow himself to relax into it.  That nagging feeling is still tugging at his brain, keeping him from truly letting the happiness sink in.  The constant worry that something is going to go wrong, something is going to go bad.  Things are gonna get messed up.  The other shoe’s gonna drop.  He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, dragging a hand over his eyes.  Takes a deep breath, trying to still the constant loop of worry in his mind.

In the kitchen, Cas feels the undercurrent of Dean’s thoughts as he dries a dish, tidying up from the day and all of the festivities.  He frowns.  After all this time, Dean still doesn’t think he is worthy.  Worthy of being saved.  Worthy of being loved.  Cas doesn’t know what else he can say or do to make him believe it.  He catches a movement out of the corner of his eye.

Claire is heading towards the bathroom.

Dean dries his hands with a towel, steeling his shoulders against the waves of anxiety pushing against his brain.  He flashes a smile at the mirror.  “…do it right, with a smile…or don't do it.”  No way is Dean Winchester gonna let his family know that he isn’t anything but purely and genuinely happy today. He knuckles at his face one last time, and opens the door.

Claire is standing in the doorway.  She meets his eyes, and in hers there is understanding.  She opens her arms.

And Dean remembers.  He remembers how for years and years, ever since Jimmy Novak walked out of his home, trading his body, and later his life to allow a celestial being to walk the Earth, Claire didn’t have a birthday party.  At first because her mom fell apart and just couldn’t do it.  Then because every year she purposely ran away from her temporary homes on that day, because it was just too unbearable, too sad.  He remembers how Jody shared the details with him as they browsed Hot Topic for decorations, how excited Jody was to throw Claire that first birthday party when she moved in with her and Alex, to finally celebrate her day, her birthday, to show her she was loved, to show her she was safe.  He remembered how Claire smiled.  Almost too much.

He lets himself fall into the hug.  Inexplicably, (no no no no hold it in no no) he begins to cry.  Claire lets him.  

His tears finally slow.  Claire gives his shoulders another squeeze.

“It’s not going to disappear.”  She says it quietly.  It’s all she says, but he knows exactly what she means.  Claire understands.

Dean hears Cas’s voice, a memory in his mind.  “You speak her language.”

I guess she speaks mine, too, Cas.

Dean smiles, and it’s real this time.  “Thanks kid.”

"Happy birthday, old man.”  Caire punches him in the shoulder as she says it, to cover up the hitch in her voice.

They walk to the kitchen together.  Cas is standing there, smiling at them both.

....

I know we are all writing lots of birthday fluff today, but as someone who struggles with anxiety I wanted to explore how Dean’s might affect his allowing himself to be happy, even if everything is perfect.  And of course, of all people, Claire is who knows exactly how he feels.

Thanks to @im-shaking-like-milk​ for chatting with me about this [I can’t believe I’m about to put something written creatively out here but really it was nice to get this ear worm out!]

#mywriting #fanficlet #happy birthday Dean Winchester #dean is 42 #destiel #hellerism #deancas #spn #spn fandom #spn family #supernatural