#2023 Ficlets

[notsuchasecret]

Four Idiots Walk Into an Onigiri Shop

#4: One of the challenges I've set up for myself for this year is to take a prompt and turn its original intention on its head. For today's OsaIwa post, I decided to take a line from an NSFW prompt list and make it fluffy and innocent. Though, it did turn more crack-y than fluffy, but oh well. Atsumu is so fun to fuck with.

If Miya Atsumu had one single regret in his life, it would be that he didn't eat Osamu in the womb. If he had two, it was that he had let Osamu and Iwaizumi meet. Of course, both of these regrets were easy to have in hindsight: fetus Atsumu hadn't known what an absolute shit his twin would turn out to be, and the Atsumu who was fresh off his Olympic high hadn't realized that his athletic trainer had the worst taste known to man, but what could he do? Besides murder Osamu and dump his body in the ocean?

"I think you're overreacting, TsumTsum," Bokuto said as they drew near to the door of Osamu's first Onigiri Miya branch. Atsumu just looked balefully up at his friend. Bokuto loved everyone, even that moron Osamu, so it wasn't unsurprising that he didn't see the problem here.

"Nah, it's not an overreaction," Atsumu said. "If I throw him in the ocean, Ma really would skin me. She's got a taxidermist all picked out ta dye my hair dark and stuff me and set me up in her living room so she can pretend she has one nice, quiet son instead of the two she's got."

"Not what I meant, but man, that's dark," Bokuto commented.

"We deserve it," Atsumu said with a shrug. He straightened his shoulders and opened the door.

"Welcome to Oni-- aw, fuck, it's you," Osamu groused.

"Great ta see you too, scrub," Atsumu snipped. Osamu rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Bokkun, nice ta see ya," he said.

"Hi, Miyaasam!" Bokuto chirped. They took their seats at the counter, and Atsumu squinted around suspiciously.

"What're you lookin' for?" Osamu snarled.

"Nothin'," Atsumu said. Osamu rolled his eyes again, but then a smirk began creeping across his face.

"Hey, babe, we got company!" he called over his shoulder. Hardly a moment later, Iwaizumi emerged from the kitchen - which, rude, Osamu never let Atsumu back there! - and smiled at the sight of Atsumu and Bokuto.

"Hey. How're you two recovering? I caught the stream for that last Jackals and Falcons match. Looked brutal."

"You have no idea," Bokuto groaned. "I thought my arms were gonna fall off at that last spike in the second from Aran!"

"Yeah, Aran-kun's a cannon," Osamu laughed. "Hajime, are ya hungry? I just got done with a fresh batch, extra spicy fer ya."

"You're a menace," Iwaizumi laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to Osamu's cheek - gross - and then walked around the counter to sit beside Atsumu.

"Here, scrub, you can have some too," Osamu said, setting out plates for them. "Tryin' a new recipe. Bokkun, got some tarako here fer ya, so ya don't burn yer tongue off."

"You're the best, Miyaasam!" Bokuto crowed, pulling his plate closer to himself. Atsumu rolled his eyes and grabbed an onigiri for himself. He didn't bother asking what was in it— it could be anything from spicy tuna mayo to some horrific combination of half-spoiled ingredients Osamu had lying around to fuck with Atsumu, and there was no way to find out without taking a bite.

This time, it did turn out to be actual food, spicy kimchi and mayo, and something else that Atsumu couldn't quite put his finger on. He hummed, taking a second bite.

"Balance is off," he said with a shrug, then stuffed the rest in his mouth.

"Which way?" Osamu asked. Atsumu hummed, chewing.

"Yer mayo's overpowerin'. Yer goin' fer spice here, right?" Osamu nodded. "If yer tryin' fer the consistency with how much mayo yer puttin' in, ya may wanna chop yer kimchi finer so it'll mix with less. It'll also bring out whatever that extra spice is— chili sauce?"

"Tried it with siracha this time, fer the consistency yer talkin' about. Not the worst idea you've had," Osamu said. He glanced at Iwaizumi and snorted. "Do ya need to use yer safeword, darlin'?" he asked, and Atsumu promptly sprayed the bite he'd just taken all over the counter. "Tsumu, what the fuck?!" Osamu cried.

"You what the fuck?! You can't just say that shit, ya fuck!"

Iwaizumi burst out laughing. He slapped Atsumu on the back as he accepted the glass Osamu held out for him. "I'd hate to see you react to how we actually talk at home," he wheezed once he had taken a long drink.

"I never shoulda let you two meet," Atsumu grumbled. "You were supposed ta be better than this, Iwaizumi-san!"

"I mean. You've met Oikawa. That's my best friend." Iwaizumi just shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "And yeah, Samu, it is too much for me. You'll get me there eventually, though, don't worry."

"I mean, the process is half the fun," Osamu said, and though to any other ear it would've been completely innocuous, Atsumu knew his brother. He knew when Osamu was fucking with him, and when he meant the double entendres that he always claimed Atsumu was reaching too far for. Atsumu rolled his eyes, scooped up Iwaizumi's plate and dumped his own remaining onigiri on it, and walked out the door. He ignored the sound of his brother shouting at him and Iwaizumi and Bokuto laughing. He'd had more than enough of that moron for one day. Really, for his entire life, but...

At the end of the day, Atsumu did love his brother. Which was why he hadn't eaten him in utero, or murdered him and found some way to dispose of him without facing his ma's wrath. Not that the fucker deserved it.

Though. His onigiri was pretty good.

Consolation prize, Atsumu thought to himself, and nodded, munching on one as he waited for the train and plotted his revenge.

[iamthecomet]

oooh i need to know how rainy reacts to seeing swiss or mountain next to aurora

You could not have sent this ask on a better day, Anon.

Kinktober - Day 13 - Size Difference

Almost 900 words of Rain pining over Mountain and Aurora in a very public place.

Rain can’t stand it anymore. Dew, Aeon, and Swiss are talking about something–guitars maybe. Beer? Rain doesn’t know. He shifts, feet sticking to the floor of the dive bar just enough to make him cringe. If he was more clear-headed he might just leave. This place is gross. Swiss always has terrible taste in bars. They’re always dirty, sticky, smelling of stale cigarettes and old beer. They remind him of the little music venues Dew will sometimes drag him to. The ones where they stand at the back the room and watch some hardcore or black metal band. Sipping watered down beer and watching Humans try to kill each other in the pit.

At least then, there’s entertainment. He doesn’t get this though. The appeal of coming somewhere like this just to drink?

Swiss says it’s because the drinks are cheap, but that doesn’t really matter anymore. And honestly, Rain would have gone back to the hotel a while ago if it wasn’t for the scene unfolding in front of him.

Mountain’s teaching Aurora how to play pool. His big body tucking around hers as he teaches her how to hold the cue. How to aim. Bending her down over the table with a hand flat on her back.

And Rain is hard. Straining against his jeans. If he moves away from the cover of the bar he’ll be in trouble. He angles his body to try to make sure no one sees. 

He doesn’t feel like making a scene tonight. 

Mountain bends, spine curving down to whisper something Aurora’s ear. She laughs. Cumulus and Cirrus stand at the other end of the pool table watching. Cirrus leans against the wall, cue in hand, eyes narrowed as she takes in the spectacle. Rain can’t decide if the look on her face is because she wants to win at pool, or she’s hungry for the same thing Rain is. 

Mountain’s fingers cover Aurora’s completely when he adjusts her grip. She smiles up at him, cheeks pinking with a blush that makes Rain’s cock kick in his pants. His mouth is dry. He takes a sip of beer to fix it. The bitter end of it doesn’t help. He wants to wash it down with the sweat beading on Mountain’s neck. He can see it, glistening against his throat. 

Aurora looks over her shoulder with bright eyes. She presses back against Mountain as he adjusts her stance and Rain feels like he might blow it right here. 

Mountain’s hand comes to rest on her belly. Rain can see the span of his hand. Thumb slipping below the hem of her cropped shirt. Palm flat to her skin. That hand covers all of her, from hip to hip. 

Rain watches as Mountain’s fingers flex and he pulls her back just a little. A noise builds deep in his throat, a growl or a whine he doesn’t know. 

“Take the shot. You can fuck later,” Cirrus says, rolling her eyes. Aurora’s blush deepens. The outburst does nothing to pull Rain from his reverie. He can’t stop watching as Mountain holds Aurora close, guides her to pull back the cute, to shoot. 

She makes the shot, a ball dropping into the corner pocket. Aurora whoops. Jumping, throwing her arms around Mountain’s neck. Pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Rain watches him blush too, grinning down at Aurora as she celebrates. 

“You get to go again,” he says to her, still holding her a little to close to be just instructional.  Rain reaches down to adjust himself in his pants. He wonders if he can hide it long enough to walk to the bathroom. To jack off into a dingy toilet to this image.

Aurora grins up at Mountain, there’s something strangely predatory about it. It makes Rain’s stomach hurt. 

“Will you help me again?” 

From her spot against the wall, Cirrus groans. Cumulus hits her softly on the arm, as if to tell her to be nice. Rain can’t help but feel the same sentiment. He’d love for Aurora’s turn to be over so he can breathe properly again. 

Instead, Mountain folds himself around her again. Presses her hips tight to the pool table. Clearly grinding his own against the swell of her ass.  He engulfs her. Rain feels like he’s about to catch on fire. His cock leaks in his pants. He can feel the wetspot against his palm as he touches himself. He can’t pretend to be adjusting anymore, he’s grinding into his own palm, hissing through his teeth at the pressure. He’s just lucky Dew, Swiss, and Aeon are engaged in a heated debate about guitar strings or some other asinine thing.  Aurora makes the next shot too and Mountain stays glued to her as they shift around the table. Rain grinds his palm down harder into his cock and gives himself a tight squeeze. Hips rolling up against his hand. He’s probably going to cum right here, in his pants in a dirty bar just from this, from them.  He should feel bad about it, maybe, getting himself off in public like this. To a pool game of all things. But there’s no blood left in his brain for shame to use. He huffs out a sigh in lieu of the moan he wants to and prepares to make a mess of himself. 

[fourmula1]

i was scrolling down the #summerofcome2023 tag and wow, every piece was exquisite.

maybe you’ll feel inspired some day to write more about a line that goes “he’s mating material, maybe Max thinks about this too” or something like that hahaha

Flufftober Day 11: this anon.

max/daniel. 1,309 words (oops). follow up to this piece.

-

When Daniel got back to Monaco and made his way to Max’s apartment he expected – and hoped – for the rather desperate and frantic sex they’d had previously.

For Max to be feral for him – because he always was before – and to drag Daniel to the bedroom and get on his knees for Daniel.

No other alpha he’d ever been with would ever.

But not Max. Max worshiped Daniel’s body and loved to make Daniel come with his mouth only and Daniel was getting very used to the way Max was about him.

Even if he was a bit past his prime omega mating years, Max still was crazy about sex with him and it made Daniel feel pretty good. At least someone still wanted to fuck him.

What he did not expect, upon his return to Monaco, was Max tugging Daniel onto the sofa with him to cuddle and nuzzle his way up Daniel’s neck and against his scent gland. What he didn’t expect was the way Max breathed him in deeply, strong arms squeezing him close.

“Missed you so much,” Max sighed against Daniel’s neck, taking another deep, slow breath. Daniel had at least had the good sense to shower upon his return home and it paid off. Max was scenting him at his purest – freshly showered and clean, no weird airplane smells, no one else in the mix.

Daniel’s tummy swooped a bit in his belly. They were having a great hook-up season together, lots of hot sex, and laughter and jokes and hanging out. Daniel was fairly sure, though, that Max’s youth was a hit against him. Max wouldn’t want to settle down with an omega any time soon, and especially not one nearly 35. If Daniel wanted to have a pup or two he’d be considered high risk, a ‘geriatric pregnancy’ as it was. Max would eventually move on to someone younger, more fertile, who could give him pups and look good and pretty next to Max in the Paddock.

“Glad to be back,” Daniel said, happy to just soak up whatever he could get. He often wondered… hoped… maybe Max would stick this out with him for a few years, at least. Daniel could accept the benefits of being friends with Max and when Max was ready to move on… it’d hurt, it would. But. That’s the way life went and he’d have to accept it.

“Don’t go for so long, again,” Max murmured, dragging his lips across Daniel’s jaw and pressing a little kiss to the corner of Daniel’s mouth.

He’d only been gone ten days.

“Oh Maxy, I’m sure you could have found pretty much anyone ready to hop into bed with you,” Daniel joked, laughter cutting off short when Max pulled back to look down at him laid out on the sofa, deep frown etched in his features.

“Why would you say that?” Max asked, and Daniel’s omega empathy could feel and smell the wave of hurt that washed off of Max. It surprised him, because Max always smelled happy, and warm, when they were together.

“Just a joke, I guess,” Daniel shrugged, a little frown of his own forming. “Plenty of omegas would be glad to help you take the edge off.”

Max paused, pulling back even further to rest his weight on his elbow as he looked down at Daniel. Daniel looked back, feeling Max’s hurt and confusion in a way that was more uncomfortable. He wanted to squirm away.

“Did… were you… with other alphas in Los Angeles?” Max asked, and his voice was small. Soft. Not accusatory but defeated. He wasn’t jealous. He was sad.

Daniel let himself feel Max for a moment, take in the way his scent changed, and his confusion started to bleed into something more hopeful. Daniel had not been with anyone else since he started sleeping with Max a few months ago but he always understood that they had no formal agreement and Max would be free to do what he wanted. Daniel had had a history of sleeping around plenty, but once he started hooking up with Max he wasn’t looking for anything else. Neither was his heart.

“Max, no,” he said, shaking his head a little and reaching up to cup his hand at the side of Max’s neck, thumb stroking gently over the hinge of his jaw. “No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I. It’s just been you, since, like, March,” he explained, meeting Max’s pretty blue eyes and trying to gage where Max was coming from.

Max studied Daniel’s face, and Daniel could practically see the gears turning in his head, and then the relief on his features when he understood Daniel was being honest.

“I don’t want any other omegas,” Max offered, shifting again to lay on the sofa with Daniel, tugging him close again, chest to chest as he curled his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “I only want my own,” he said, squeezing gently. Daniel’s heartbeat picked up in his chest.

“Your own?” He asked.

“You of course are my omega, Daniel,” Max said, leaning in for a little kiss Daniel was happy to receive. “If you want to be,” Max finished, looking back at Daniel again. Daniel could smell the softening of Max’s scent from the sharp worry of before, back to his happy, sated, content scent Daniel was so familiar with.

Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat. This wasn’t what he expected when he returned today. He didn’t expect to get everything he wanted.

“I want to be,” he agreed, shivering a little at the way Max nuzzled back in against his neck to press a kiss to his mating mark spot. He couldn’t help the little moan that escaped him when Max dragged his teeth gently over it – a promise for the future. Daniel would let him do it now, if he was honest.

“Good. I have hoped so since I presented,” Max said and that sent Daniel reeling back, enough to stare Max in the face. Max presented as an alpha shortly after he got promoted to Red Bull. Years, and years ago. “I knew I of course had to wait and become an alpha you’d even consider before I tried.”

“Max, what?” Daniel asks, shock, confusion, awe taking him over.

“What?” Max asks back, and his face is cracked open with delight, a bright smile and laughter bursting out. “Daniel. You of course would never have agreed to be with me when I was nineteen. I needed to of course grow up and work hard to be a good alpha if you were ever going to agree to mate me.”

He says it so matter-of-fact. Like those sentences haven’t sent Daniel for a tailspin, trying to figure out what the hell Max was saying.

Max is smart, though, and Daniel realizes he’s probably right. Daniel wouldn’t have given nineteen year old Max a shot – because of his age, because of his feral inexperience, because of a lot of reasons. Daniel is lost for words for a moment as he processes this. What if he had found an alpha he wanted to settle down with before Max felt he could be the right one for Daniel? What if he’d mated someone, never knowing all along that Max hoped they’d be together. What if Max had to go through that and bury his feelings about it and pretend everything was okay? So many what ifs. Daniel spares a thought to be grateful that that never happened.

“You’re too much, Maxy,” he said, the tiniest little smile on his lips as he leaned in for a kiss. Daniel tucks himself back into Max’s chest and nuzzles in, closes his eyes. He needs to nap off the jetlag and can think of no better way to do it then curled up with his alpha. His alpha.

[acasualcrossfade]

Angel, Baby, Sweetheart, Sunshine

Sicktember Day 22:  Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Words: 500 | Rating: M | CW: mentions of drug use, sex, and edge play

Summary: Steve loves all the pet names Eddie has for him.

Find me on Ao3!

--

Steve loved the way Eddie used pet names and was surprised at how many there were. 

Big boy was first, and it had caught Steve off-guard. He’d never been called something that left him equally confused and amused. 

Eddie only proved to have more pet names in his arsenal. 

Angel came soon after.

They’d both been insomniacs the night before, sharing joints on the patio as they watched the stars shift to sunrise. The sun’s soft golden light stretched across their bedroom and Steve rolled over closer to nudge Eddie awake. 

The pet name mumble-rolled from Eddie’s mouth. 

A few more minutes, angel

Steve paused at the pet name, relishing in it. Angel. 

Eddie had uttered it with breathy ease, as if the name was meant solely for him. 

And when Eddie woke, he murmured it again, voice still thick with sleep. 

Good morning, angel

Warmth bloomed in Steve’s heart and spread through his chest and he cuddled Eddie closer.

Baby was next. 

Baby, Steve learned, was reserved for the bedroom. 

Baby was whispered in Steve’s ear while Steve moaned through Eddie’s rhythmic thrusts from behind. 

Baby was hushed between soft praises and softer commands as Eddie edged him.

A little longer, baby, so good for me

Steve was a spool of thread, woven with want and need, and Eddie wound him tighter and tighter before finally allowing Steve to unravel and come undone in his arms. And then, Eddie stitched Steve back together with the same pet name and praise. 

I got you baby, you did so good 

And Steve was left delightfully buzzing as the world crackled back to clarity. 

Sweetheart was the Sour Patch Kid pet name, either sweet or snarky.

When Steve came home from his day of teaching, Eddie was immediately on alert as Steve coughed into his elbow. Steve was sick; there was no denying it. 

You sound terrible, sweetheart , Eddie tutted, and filled the kettle to make tea.

When the pet name came snarky, it was complete with Eddie’s best cocky smile and his brown eyes glinting.

Sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet , Eddie would challenge, one hand caressing the neck of his guitar while the other fingered his guitar pick. 

Sunshine was Steve’s favorite. 

It was always uttered with intention, and always served with a thick layer of love between its letters. 

Steve loved hearing sunshine woven into songs that Eddie sang to millions. He loved knowing it was him Eddie was referring to when he sang about sunshine warm on his skin. 

You’re mine, sunshine

I bathe in your beams, struck silent, self-aware and sun-kissed

It wasn’t just Eddie’s songs, either.

Sunshine was everywhere.

Eddie breathed sunshine between sunset kisses on the patio, and sunshine on firefly summer evenings at the lake. Eddie enthusiastically declared how much he loved sunshine both onstage and again backstage. 

I love you, sunshine

Each name was endearing and left Steve enveloped in comfort. 

And Steve knew he’d always be Eddie’s. 

Eddie’s angel, baby, sweetheart, sunshine.

[neondiamond]

If you know me at all, you’ll know that two of the things I enjoy most are writing fluffy ficlets, and Christmas. This year, I decided to combine the two and create my own little Christmas ficlet party all throughout December! 8 ficlets, 4 different pairings, many different tropes—all short, fluffy and festive! Perfect for a quick reading break with a warm drink!

Here is a little sneak peek of what you can expect!

🎄You Don’t Have to Be Lonely Tonight (Larry, coffeeshop AU, strangers, 2k, fic post)

Louis is stuck working the Christmas day shift at the coffee shop. Harry is the sad stranger who comes in to spend the day there.

❄️ An Annual Affair (OT5 friendship, A/B/O, 1.6k, fic post)

One Direction’s annual Christmas dinner, featuring pregnant Harry and his overprotective Alpha Louis, nervous Liam and his calm and collected mate Zayn, and clueless Niall who may or may not have a death wish.

🎅🏻 Not Quite Structurally Sound (Ziam, kid fic, 1.1k, fic post)

Zayn and Liam help their two kids build a gingerbread house.

⭐️ You’re Family (Larry, meeting the parents, asexual characters, 2k, fic post)

Louis is a little nervous about meeting Harry’s family for the first time for Christmas. Harry’s Mum shows him he has nothing to worry about.

Part of the Inner Crisis universe.

🎄A Special Bond (Narry friendship, kid fic, uncle Niall, 1.1k, fic post)

Baby Lilah goes to see the Christmas lights with her Daddy Harry and her uncle Niall.

❄️ Mistletoe Kiss (Larry, roommates, mutual pining, 1.2k, fic post)

A little bit of mistletoe is just the thing Louis needed to let his roommate Harry know he’s got quite the crush on him.

🎅🏻 Cookies and Christmas Cheer (Ziall friendship, hospital AU, 1k, fic post)

When Niall is feeling a little sad at having to work over the holidays, his fellow nurse Zayn shows him a little Christmas spirit is still possible.

⭐️ All That Counts (Larry, established relationship, 1.2k, fic post)

A soft Christmas morning in the Tomlinson-Styles household.

Merry Christmas everyone! ❤️

[f1amboyant]

There's definitely been a shift after the summer break, especially on Charles' part 👀 what happened Charles, did you like have some sort of sudden realisation?

Anon, you are so right! Charles has been throwing longing stares and heart eyes at Carlos like crazy since summer break, it's crazy. It's making me go insane.

Like. What is that?? This is not how you look at a teammate! Charles, get a grip (please don't, I am living for this!)

Something happened during summer break. My theory is that they did meet during the summer break (was it planned or not, I don't know, but something happened in the south of France 👀), they fucked (for the first time) and Charles is now obsessed with that man. And it shows.

Here's a little something for you...

.

They meet in the south of France.

Except for a few texts and one or two silly memes, they haven't been in contact much during the summer break. A like on an Instagram post here and there, keeping up with the other through social media. Kinda. Realizing they are not far from each other and yet they haven't planned to spend a single day together.

They spend enough days together working. This is summer break. This is for fun.

Still. They do meet. Somewhere in the south of France. In a private yet crowded club. Neither wanted to go, dragged by their friends. And yet here they are. Catching eyes from across the room.

Carlos wiggles his eyebrows. Charles giggles.

They go back to their friends.

They meet again later at the bar.

"I didn't know you would be here."

"They dragged me here, it wasn't planned."

They shout over the loud music and the alcohol slowly settling in their veins.

They go back to their friends again. They meet up again later. Much much later. In the bathroom. By accident.

Charles sways (drunk) and collides with Carlos' chest. Carlos laughs (too high, too loud, too drunk).

"Missed me this much, Lord Percival?"

"Maybe," Charles mumbles in Carlos' collar.

Carlos' shirt hangs open almost all the way down. There's only one or two buttons still attached.

"At this point, you should just take it off," Charles slurs.

(Or at least, that's what he is trying to say.) His alcohol-addled brain cannot really form sentences anymore. So he mumbles a few words then proceeds to rip the last two buttons on Carlos' shirt and opens it wide over the expanse of his muscled chest.

"Charles," Carlos groans. In warning. In lust.

But Charles barely listens, hypnotized by the glistening skin of Carlos' stomach, reaching a hand to trace the lines on Carlos' abs. He draws a shiver out of his teammate, a strangled moan, and a visible bulge in his pants.

Charles' mind buzzes with alcohol and the heady feeling of getting this kind of reaction from Carlos. It's exhilarating. He wants more.

He puts his hand on Carlos' crotch. Carlos pushes him back, slamming him back against the bathroom door.

"Charles," he whispers. Another warning.

He sounds wrecked, shaking with desire, rendered helpless from a single touch from Charles. Charles feels all too powerful. He needs more.

"Don't play with me," Carlos says.

"You want this?"

A nod. A step forward. One of them (Charles doesn't remember who) has the presence of mind to lock the door. The click is loud even with the music blasting from the club.

They are alone and Charles' hands are all over Carlos' body, eliciting all sorts of reactions from him and reveling in them all. The power he has over him is heady.

Carlos kisses him, messy and hungry.

Charles' hand slides into Carlos' pants, his fingers wrapping around a hard and leaking cock. Carlos gasps.

It's so so exhilarating.

He gets closer, his pelvis grinding against Carlos' hip as he strokes faster and faster. He drinks in all the little gasps and moans that escape Carlos' mouth. He bites on that plump bottom lip as Carlos exhales and comes right into Charles' palm.

"Charles..." he shudders.

Charles comes in his pants.

.

Charles wakes up the next morning, in his bed, with a headache pounding like crazy inside his skull. The nausea is strong but the dawning feeling as he remembers the previous night is stronger.

He kissed Carlos.

He gave him a handjob.

He came in his pants while doing it.

But most of all...

He wants more.

[medusapelagia]

R- Rockstar

R is for Rin (@rindecision) the first person I DMed ever! Thank you for being so kind and helpful💜

I hope you will enjoy your present 🎁!

This fic is inspired by this beautiful art made by @firefly-party (who was so kind to let me use it as an inspiration!)

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve /Eddie (vague mention of Chrissy /Robin) WT: no one Words: 1144

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Eddie swears while he smokes the last cigarette from his packet.

“Didn’t you promise Murray that you were going to quit? It’s bad for your voice, you know that.” Chrissy tells him when she finds him on the roof smoke chaining.

“This is a fucking emergency and I’m sure that Murray will understand.”

“If you say so.” She replies, looking at him unconvinced, so Eddie puts out the cigarette on the wall behind him.

“Did you come to give me more bad news?”

She shakes her blond ponytail “No, actually I came with a good one.”

“Is Gareth ok? Are we going to play tonight?”

“Well these are two very different questions and I’ll give you two very different answers. First no, Gareth is still at the hospital and they are not going to let him leave his room, he just got his appendix perforated and it’s not a joke.”

Eddie lets himself slip toward the floor dramatically “Fuck. We are screwed.”

“But…” she continues, helping him up “You must go back because Corroded Coffin are going to play tonight!”

Eddie’s eyes widen “You didn’t.”

Chrissy smirks “I did.”

“How the hell did you find a drummer with such a short notice? Is he good? Does he know our songs?”

“He is quite good. We are very lucky because his tour just ended and he seems to know at least some of your songs.”

“Some?”

“He is good Eddie, you will be really pleased with him, I’m sure of it.”

Eddie hugs her so tight that he almost hears the bones in the girl's body cracks “Sorry, sorry. You are a magician Chrissy! I don’t know how you made it but it’s the greatest news ever! I would have been so pissed if we had had to cancel the last date of our concert and rescheduled!”

“I know, that’s why I insisted. The drummer wasn’t really convinced at the beginning, but you know me! I worked my magic and now it’s downstairs to rehearse with Frank and Jeff.

“Without me?” the metalhead asks, offended.

“You are the one crying on the roof, not my fault.” Chrissy replies with a sweet smile.

“The face of an angel and yet you are so cruel! I was mourning! Didn’t you notice?”

“Oh, I noticed, as I noticed all the cigarette buts on the floor.”

“Promise me you will not say to Murray that I smoked.”

“Pinkie promise.” She replies with a smirk, and Eddie feels there is something he is missing, but he is so excited to have a temporary drummer that he doesn’t ask any questions and runs toward the stage.

The new drummer is turned toward the boys but he seems familiar.

“Hey, Ed! Have you seen the new drummer Chrissy got us?”

The boy turns and Eddie’s blood turns into ice “Harrington?”

The chestnut boy winks at him “Hey, Munson. Chrissy told me you needed a drummer.” 

Eddie turns toward Chrissy who is laughing behind the papers that she is holding.

“Do you care to explain, Cunningham?”

“Well, Different Twins last tour date was yesterday and they were still in town, so I asked a favor to a friend.”

“Which friend?” Eddie knows that Chrissy has a crush on the blond singer and guitarist of the duo, but she knows that he is not indifferent to the pretty drummer either.

“Is it important? I got you a drummer, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Even if Different Twins play pop music Eddie has seen Harrington play more than once and he is definitely capable of repeating a song just after one listening so Eddie is pretty sure that he will nail it; the problem is Eddie: will he be able to concentrate on the music and not on the drummer?

“I fucking hate you, Cunningham.” he murmurs between his teeth.

“Nah, you love me. Now go and do what you do best!”

Eddie raises an eyebrow “Make a fool out of myself?”

“Play!” she replies, pushing him toward the stage.

“Well, I think that the boys already told you about our songs’ setlist, right?” Eddie asks, getting on stage.

Steve nods “Yeah. We were talking about the last song. I was proposing to play Running Up the Hill.” He says making a bun with his hair and fixing it with a pen.

“Sorry?”

“Running Up The Hill, your version of the song.”

Eddie shakes his head “We usually close with our version of Sweet Dreams.”

“Yeah, I know it, but it sounds like an easy choice. I mean… don’t you want everyone to leave the concert still pumped? It’s your concert, so it’s your choice but…”

“We haven’t played it in so long.” Jeff intervenes, looking at Eddie “I’d like to play it again. What do you say?”

Eddie glares at Jeff, he just put him in a difficult position “That’s not what we decided…”

“Come on! It will be fun!” Frank insists and Eddie sighs.

“Ok, ok, but we have to rehearse it at least a couple of times, ok?”

That’s how Eddie finds himself close to Steve, watching his every movement and finding them impeccable.

“You are good.” Eddie tells him, offering some water.

“Were you worried?” Steve asks amused.

“A bit? Sorry, but it’s our last tour concert and I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

“I get it, I’m the pretty boy who plays pop music, aren’t I?”

Eddie can’t deny that he was thinking these very same words so he simply shrugs whispering “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I guess you’ll have to offer me a beer.”

“What for?”

“For being rude?” Steve replies sticking his tongue out.

That’s not what Eddie was expecting from him, he was expecting a preppy rich kid who would have reminded him that he comes from a rich family and is a talented multi-instrumentalist, but instead, he simply asked for a beer and stuck his tongue out like a five-year-old.

When they get on stage Steve is wearing a blue tank top that shows all his constellations of moles and Eddie has to try his hardest not to get too fixed on the drummer during the concert, even if his eyes find Steve’s more time than not.

“So, how do you like him?” Jeff asks Eddie when they get backstage after the concert.

“He is good.”

“I’m sure he is good at many things…” he whispers with a wink, but Eddie can’t reply because Steve is waiting for him.

“If I’m not wrong you still owe me a beer, right?”

Eddie turns toward Jeff to ask him if he wants to join them, but somehow both he and Frank have vanished into thin air.

“Well, it seems it’s just me and you, big boy.” Eddie concludes “My place?” he asks and the smile Steve gives him tells him all he needs to know.

[darkpurpledawn]

For the AU-gust prompt "Sculptor AU"

“But as your realtor, Mr. Crowley, I do insist that a different piece would be more-ah, welcoming for the foyer.”

Aziraphale’s hands twisted around his briefcase. They were oddly sweaty, although it was a cool day and the Mayfair residence was well-shaded by a mature hawthorn.

“But you do like it?” Crowley asked. His expression was unreadable beneath the everpresent sunglasses, but Aziraphale thought his gaze flicked to the statue of the two angels.

Aziraphale did, in fact, like it. It was large and dramatic, and sculpted with a vigor that made it look as though the winged beings might topple from their pedestal. But it had been dashed difficult to get Crowley to make any of his living space more approachable-looking before he put this hulking thing in the entry, and Aziraphale suspected the average homebuyer might find it all a bit much.

“Oh I’m no great art appreciator, Mr. Crowley,” Aziraphale demurred. “Certainly I think you’ve evident talent, and it’s quite--compelling.”

Crowley tapped his nose thoughtfully with one finger. Aziraphale imagined him running those long fingers over the marble flanks of the angels, bringing forth flesh from stone. He mentally chastised the capillaries in his face for blushing in front of a client.

“It’s Good and Evil, you know, can’t get more classic than that,” Crowley drawled. “Thought I’d make evil win this time though.”

He lowered the sunglasses and gave Aziraphale a wink.

Oh, now that was unfair.

“Mr. Crowley, did you have a look at the paint samples I suggested for the upstairs bath?” Aziraphale said faintly.

“Erm, yeah,” said Crowley, “I didn’t know there were that many kinds of beige, being honest.”

Aziraphale exhaled. They were back on firmer footing now. It was impossible to be erotically excited by comparing shades of ecru.

“Let’s take a quick look at the baseboards and see which of the suggested colors best matches the tile,” Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley nodded, and headed for the stairway. Aziraphale cast his eyes around at the projects in Crowley’s studio on the ascent to the second floor. There was a monstrous-looking dog, snakes that seemed about to wriggle free from their stone skin, and a number of angels that seemed to be in various states of psychological distress.

“Whoa!” 

Aziraphale moved before he could think, before he could really see what had happened--Crowley tripped and fell back a stair and Aziraphale braced himself against the railing and stopped the two of them from falling further.

“For heaven’s sake, my own sodding flat--thanks Mr. Fell, sorry about that,” Crowley said, and stood upright again. Aziraphale was relieved--Crowley’s back was no longer pressing into him--until Crowley turned around to look at his rescuer, and he was forced to bear the pressure of an even more hazardous side of Crowley. 

Think of beige, he instructed himself. Think of baseboards, think of bifold doors. Think of renovations to historic buildings that remove all the ornamental stonework. Think of smart home devices, and those horrid bookshelves that barely have any books on them at all. Think of all the dreadful, palatable things you tell people to put in their homes.

Think of Crowley moving away from London. Think of how you’ll never have to think of this again.

[fuctacles]

Steve Harrington's Barbie-shaped thighs

now on Ao3 | final edit: 04.08

Robeen: Barbie tonight @ 5!!! Robeen: Dress accordingly OR ELSE Eddee: ????? Steef: 👍👍👍💅💅💅

Eddie did the best he could with his monochrome wardrobe. Which meant an impromptu thrift hunt. He found a tiny pink tank top and a vaguely 80s-shaped shirt he could throw over it. It didn't look half-bad, paired with high-waisted shorts and a couple of borrowed accessories (a pink belt and huge hoop earrings from Gareth's sister). He already owned a pink scrunchie - a gift from Steve - which he used to tie his hair into a high ponytail.

On the bus, he felt slightly self-conscious, making him realise how much he relied on his metalhead armour on a daily basis. The way kids dressed up these days and the fact that he wasn't the only one on his way to see Barbie helped him blend in. So while it felt that way, he wasn’t actually standing out.

As it turned out, definitely not as much as Steve.

While Robin decided to recreate the striped costume look to her best ability (the top and the bottom didn't really match but the reference was apparent enough), Steve decided on a pink tennis outfit, with a pleated skirt. He even shaved his legs.

His hair has grown out long enough to tie it into a tiny ponytail, which was, in Eddie's objective opinion, fucking adorable.

He approached his friends and, unable to help himself, tugged on the skirt.

"Somebody understood the assignment," he smiled teasingly, laughing when Steve swatted his hand away, straightening the pleats. “Aced it, even.” Then, both to preserve his sanity and socialize properly, he turned to Robin. “You both look great.”

"I can't hold a candle to our diva here."

Steve preened, twisting his hips so the skirt twirled around his thighs. Which again, fucking adorable. Eddie's queer heart was on fire. He wanted to tug on the hem of the skirt, play with the white collar, and tip the visor askew. Touch every part of the outfit and the person in it because Steve Harrington wore a skirt to a Barbie screening. It was like he wanted Eddie to die of a heart attack.

Thankfully, they arrived just in time for the movie to start and couldn’t ruminate on their Barbie-inspired outfits. When buying popcorn, Eddie lagged behind, hoping the view in front of him inspires him enough to maybe, finally, ask Harrington out. After the movie, perhaps. He’s heard great reviews so far, it may just give him the nudge he needs. 

They found their pre-ordered seats and Eddie watched Steve's skirt ride up sinfully high when he crossed his legs. Torture.

"You look great by the way. Colours look good on you," his friend leaned in to whisper. The theatre was running the commercials and some people still talked at full volume, so it wasn’t like he had to do that. "You're wearing the scrunchie," he observed too.

"I am. I wear it all the time," Eddie answered with a frown, almost offended at the implication that he wouldn’t. He leaned back to look at Steve. His eyes were sparkling in the dim theatre.

"Yeah?"

He shrugged, playing it cool in front of The Boy.

"Yeah, just. Not in public." 

In the comfort of his home, when he was practising guitar, doing the dishes, or cooking. Doing domestic shit alone, missing his friends. Thinking of Steve.

The commercials ended and the lights went off. Steve's fingers brushed against Eddie's arm as he pulled back to sit comfortably. Just a fleeting, accidental touch; Casual and friendly, but it left him reeling.

Eddie braced himself for almost 2 hours of sitting in the dark next to Steve's bare thighs.

Alas, no amount of bracing could prepare him for Steve's fingers against his skin, this time intentional and teasing. For how when he silently reprimanded him, knocking his knuckles against his knee half-playfully, he grasped them and pressed down, letting his hand rest on the bare skin. 

For the second half of the movie, all Eddie could think of were shades of pink and soft skin.

[momo-t-daye]

"Now, Severus, the sword! Do not forget it must be taken under conditions of need and valor-" the portrait recited, an echo of Albus Dumbledore, a recording unspooling predetermined plans. It wasn't Albus Dumbledore, it was paint and canvas and curated memories and trained habits, it was a simulacrum that could only ever offer false connection and empty comfort.

Minerva thought it was a mockery of remembrance, hanging the portrait of Albus behind the desk Albus had once occupied. She had refused to enter the Headmaster's office a second time as staunchly as she refused to look at Severus with anything but hatred now. It was torture. Every parroted guile and canned expression of concern and impersonation of Albus' intelligence was another knife twist in the knot of grief and guilt that had replaced his heart in the last terrible year.

It was continuing on, another reminder that Severus mustn't let Potter see him, mustn't let Lily's son know of Severus' allegiance lest the child become a liability before he could be a sacrifice.

"I know," Severus said, curt, hoping to skip past the pre-recorded reminders of all the promises he'd given to a dead man.

He didn't need the portrait to press a hand against some invisible wall as though it wanted to reach him, he didn't need it to make that expression of determined concern Albus used to make when Severus had marched off to another terrible meeting with the Dark Lord for the sake of the Order and keeping the boy alive and as safe as they could.

Yet despite the mimicry of care, it wouldn't even tell him why he had to get the sword into Potter's possession; perhaps Albus hadn't trusted his own portrait enough to imbue it with that knowledge even as he had trusted it to continue to haunt Severus.

It was a ridiculous dedication to his little mind games, like that note on the inside of the firewhiskey label, as if Albus had feared that, left to his own devices, Severus might go and haunt himself off Dumbledore's plotted path with grief over his own wasted loyalty and rage at the fate sewn under Harry Potter's skin and memories of his once best friend. As if Severus wasn't an expert at closing his mind and shuttering his heart and ignoring furious wailing of his own ghosts.

The portrait was still talking, another formulaic warning to take caution while accomplishing Albus Dumbledore's plans.

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," Severus said, speaking more to himself, his disappointed devastated selves, than the portrait, "I have a plan..."

For Unofficial Snapetober 2023 prompts "Ghost" and "Remembrance" The idea of haunting ones own self/of seeing the ghost of your past self seemed like it would be suitable for Severus- Sev is different from Severus is different from Snape is different from Professor Snape etc. etc., right? I mostly work with traditional media and do a little bit of digital tidying up to try to get the colors on the screen to look like the colors on paper, but I had a bit of fun figuring out how to put the ghosts of past Snapes (young Sev, Teen Sev, and Professor Snape) haunting Headmaster Snape into the picture. I painted each of the ghosts separately- in dark orange over black inked lines- and then inverted the colors once it was scanned and put those as semi-transparent layers on top of the separate painting of Headmaster!Snape in Dumbledore's office (...I am not very good at drawing backgrounds inside of a building where furniture and walls have too many straight lines, let's just put the characters in the woods with trees and lots of nice wavy wobbly lines...). Also! Have you all read "Stronger than a Butterbeer" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786743)? It's such a precise gut-punch of "the absence of Severus" that haunts me so I just had to make a reference to it.

[zukos-firebending]

wrote a lil Zukki week ficlet for either day 1 (domesticity) or a silly take on day 6 (political complications).

475 words, comedy + fluff, Zukki, pregnancy

“How would you raise a child, if you had one?” Suki says. She’s laying in between Zuko and Sokka, and as she says it, she turns her head lazily to look at Sokka. 

“Dunno,” he says, shifting so his arm can continue to be her pillow even as he idly strokes Zuko’s hair. They're wearing two pairs of pants and two tops between them, and it's a lazy afternoon indeed. “I'd raise them Water Tribe, I guess. Teach them to fish. Take them ice dodging. But I'd make sure we traveled, too. Gotta see the world.” 

“What about you, Zuko?” Suki turns to her other side. 

“Uh, they'd be a palace kid, I guess,” Zuko says. “I don't want to raise them like I was raised, but they'd have to learn politics and all that. I'd meditate with them. Teach them to control their flame.” 

“Great,” Suki says. “I'm pregnant.” 

“WHAT?!” 

The men sit up comically quickly on either side of her, staring at her stomach as if they'll see the shape formed by a handful of cells. They're both speaking, voices overlapping, asking if it's real, when she found out, if she's ok. 

“I went to the healers earlier today,” she says. “They say I'm about a month along.” 

“That's incredible,” Sokka says, grabbing her hand, but Suki turns to see Zuko looking stressed enough to start sparking. 

“Zu?” 

“Whose is it?” 

“What?” Suki says. 

“I mean, what'll we tell the Fire Sages? If the kid’s a firebender, of course, they'll need to be my heir— but if they're not mine biologically. Agni, if they're Water and Earth— what if they're a water bender! They can't be the heir to the throne, but there's no way to know— Suki, I'll have to tell the Sages right away—” 

Suki grabs him by the shoulder. “Calm down, love, please. What are you saying? If the child is whose?” 

“Mine or Sokka's,” Zuko says. 

“Zuko. My darling. My fire-lily. My spark.” Sokka takes Zuko’s hands in his, and looks deep into his eyes. “Baby, the kid’s yours.” 

“How would we know?” 

“I'm trans.” 

Zuko turns red so fast he starts steaming. “Oh. Yeah. I knew that.” 

“I should hope so,” Sokka says with a snort.

“I'm so stupid,” Zuko mumbles, but Suki just gathers him in a hug as her quiet chuckles fade. 

“You've been stressed recently, and this is a big surprise. It's ok.” 

“Are you okay with having my heir?” Zuko says tentatively. “I know it's a big thing...” 

“Well, are you okay with having a child?” 

“Yes. Of course.” 

“Then we'll do it. Together.” 

“I still want to take them ice dodging,” Sokka cuts in. “And teach them to fish. But I think it's time we moved to the palace. Don't you think, Sukes?” 

She nods. “Here's to a new adventure, huh?” 

The end.

[fourmula1]

Flufftober Day 13 - Scent

eager baby alpha max gets everything he's ever wanted. 375 words.

-

Once he realized he was truly allowed to, the first thing Max did was pull Daniel from the foyer of his apartment to the sofa – big enough for the both of them to snuggle on. Daniel was his omega. Max had always known it, but Daniel realizing it now just sweetened the deal.

As they settled in together, Daniel squeezed between the back of the sofa and Max’s body, Max curled his arms back around Daniel and nuzzled into his neck to scent him properly. He’d always been drawn to the warm, honey-like scent of Daniel but getting to truly follow his instincts and scent him properly, not just get passing whiffs, was easing his inner alpha in ways he’d never been calmed before.

He was good at masking. He was good at hiding it and showing restraint and leaving Daniel alone as best as he could manage, longing from afar. But now that he was free to do it he indulged his every instinct to run his hands over Daniel’s body and rub his face against Daniel’s scent gland, wanting Daniel all over him. He was going to smell like Daniel so strongly they’d never be able to deny or hide what was happening but Max didn’t care. His instincts were stronger than his rational brain, and his inner alpha was leading the way. Max rumbled as he pulled Daniel closer, felt the omega shiver in his arms as he did so. Daniel’s scent was comforting beyond measure and calmed him, worries and anxieties melting away in the moment.

“I always knew,” Max whispered, lips trailing along Daniel’s jaw as he spoke, moving down to kiss Daniel again. “Always knew we were supposed to be together,” he said between kisses, loving the way Daniel smiled into it.

Max pulled back enough to properly look at him, smile of his own spreading on his lips.

“You are so beautiful,” Max said softly, sliding a hand up to cup Daniel’s jaw, thumb brushing over a high cheekbone beneath Daniel’s eye.

Max had never heard Daniel make this noise before – the involuntary, sweet, little coo omegas made when pleased with their alphas.

He vowed in his heart to hear Daniel like this again, and again, and again.

[cheriboms]

doctober day 23: nostalgia

fact: doc has a saxophone in his garage in both 1955 and 1985, with seemingly no ties to his scientific pursuits. hypothesis: theres some sentimental reason, maybe he played (plays?) it as a hobby since and/or prior to 1955...? conclusion: they def had at least one jam session

[[ proof of my claims >:0 ]]

[idontplaytrack]

✧ Laugh it off

Jos Cleary-Lopez x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, coarse language, stress, reader is on her period, implied involuntary age-regression(triggered by stress and fatigue)

Reader’s clingy, but Jos loves it so she can pamper her

“No, baby. What— shh. It’s okay.” Jos picks up her phone, “It’s okay. Tell me what happened.”

You were crying, that— she knew. You didn’t know how or why, it just happened. And your first thought was to phone Jos.

“I don’t feel good.” You managed.

‘Feel good? You always say ‘well’ unless— shit.’

“Where are you?” She asks immediately, picking up on the tone change.

“Home.” You breathed out shakily, “At home.”

“I’m coming, okay? Do you need anything?”

“I don’t know.” You croaked.

“Alright, alright.” She shushed, “It’s okay, honey. I’ll be right there, I promise.”

Jos took her keys and wallet then rushed downstairs to the garage. Getting into her car, she immediately started it up and drove off towards her first destination: the store, to grab you some things. Staring at the date on the screen in front of her, she gets the confirmation she needed regarding her question as to what you may be needing.

She was in and out of the store in twenty minutes, arriving at your house in another fifteen. Jos let herself in, she had a copy of your house keys. She rushed upstairs to your room in an instant, but also noted that no one else was home. You were alone.

“y/n.” She says, pushing your door open- it was left open a crack. You jumped, startled, looking up at her with teary eyes. Jos fought the urge to sigh as she sat down beside you, placing the bag of items right by herself.

“What’s bothering you, my love?” She asks, a hand on your thigh.

You were breathing shakily, shaking your head. Then, following a forceful gulp, “I don’t wanna throw up.”

Jos held onto your hands, “Look at me.”

Finally, you did as she told you to, and met her gaze.

“Did you get your period?” She asked quietly, squeezing your hands.

You babbled, “I don’t like it. It hurts— I— I feel like I’m gonna throw up— I don’t want—”

“Can you sit up for me, baby? Please?” She coaxed, you sighed and sat upright, fully face to face with her.

“I know your pain meds were running a bit low, so I bought you some. I’m gonna get you some water, and you’re gonna take it, alright? You’ll feel better.” Jos took out the pack of Aleve, opened it and popped the blister pack so she could get a pill out for you. She spots your water bottle on the nightstand so she reached back to grab it, “Here you go.”

You hesitantly took both items from her, looking at her with a frown. Jos was digging into the bag once again, pulling out a little gift. “Take the medicine and this is yours.” Jos laughs, holding up a stuffed animal. A bribe, but in your current state of mind, it easily worked.

You swallowed the pale blue pill with some gulps of water. Jos smiled in relief and handed the stuffed orange heeler to you. “I want cuddles.” You pouted, leaning onto her.

Without a word, Jos wraps her arms around you. “I bought some snacks, you want something?” She reaches for the bag, pouring the contents onto your bed. You nodded eagerly, “Ooh. I want the Reese’s Pieces.”

“Here.” Jos hands the packet to you, “Be careful. Chew them properly, I don’t want you to choke.”

You laughed a little, but agreed, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” Jos couldn’t help but smile again, you were exceptionally adorable in these ‘episodes’ where you’d regressed. Though it was usually triggered by a distressing situation. Or sometimes you were just overtired. Either way, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Jos knew how to take care of you, things weren’t that much different. You didn’t revert back to too early of an age.

“You wanna watch some TV?” She asks, kissing the side of your head.

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, nuzzling closer. Jos holds you tighter.

“Bluey?” She asks knowingly, watching your face to see it light up. As expected, you smiled brightly and gave her an excited nod. Jos was already ready to click into the streaming service and press play. She just wanted to see you in a good mood.

————

After a little bit, you got a little bit restless in your current position and shifted. You sat on the plush and realised, it ‘talked’. You gasped, clearly not expecting it. “Sorry.” Jos gives you a sheepish grin, “You didn’t know there were voice recordings on that?”

“No, I didn’t.” You giggled, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Alright.” She hums, “You got it?” Jos was holding onto you so she was sure you were stable on your feet after sitting down for quite awhile.

“Legs are a little numb, but I realllly need to pee.” You nodded, chuckling over your words.

While you did your business, she got up to stretch and the show was put on pause for the meantime. “You want something to drink, y/n?”

“Okay?” You answered.

“I’ll be back up here in a couple minutes, baby.” You heard her say through the door, then the sound of footsteps departing from your room.

Washing your hands, you walked back to your bed and flopped onto it, stomach first and snuggling with the stuffed dog that your girlfriend’s just got you.

“You sleepy?” You hear her voice behind you.

“No.” You told her, voice muffled. “Maybe a little.”

“I made you some ginger tea to help with your stomach.” Jos began, “Have some, then let’s take a nap. How’s that sound? Good?”

Well, you just did as she told you to. You didn’t have the energy to protest. Besides, you knew it would help— it always does.

So right now, your head was laid on her chest, eyes fluttering shut but you were still fighting the urge to sleep. “Baby, don’t fight it. Just close your eyes and sleep.”

“I still wanna watch TV.” You pouted.

“Baby, we’ll continue after you get some rest. You’re really tired and that’s not helping how you feel, my love.”

Jos keeps rubbing your back in an attempt to lull you to sleep, and it was working perfectly. Much easier than usual, though you were more chatty during times like these, being all pouty about little things like not wanting to sleep because you didn’t want to stop watching TV.

“I’m scared I’ll throw up.” You mumbled, snuggling closer against her chest.

“It’ll be okay.” Jos replies softly, “I promise. I’ll be right here with you. I got you, I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you.” You said back, “I did not have a nice day at work.”

“I’m sorry, baby. That sucks.”

“Everyone was so angry, the manager didn’t know how to help me when I asked for help about something I hadn’t done before. Then they left me alone, for like— one hour to take care of the place myself.” You began talking a lot, faster and faster and in a way that worried Jos. She could hear the panic in your voice talking about everything bad that happened that day.

“I just— I left work early because I felt myself going crazy. Like— like I was going to do this again, become like a child—”

Your bad day at work must’ve been what caused this episode to start. And the fact that you’d just started your period today, how emotional you must’ve been leading up to now must’ve made you feel so much worse.

“y/n.” She says your name, “All I want you to do right now is to take some deep breaths, focus on my heartbeat and close your eyes.”

Jos feels your balled up fist clenching at her shirt start loosening up. The soothing motions of her palm on your back was still ongoing.

“Close your eyes, breathe. Don’t think about anything. You’re okay now, all that’s over and done with.”

“What if they fire me?” You mumbled, voice unclear as the sleepiness began to take over your obviously exhausted body.

“Baby, there will always be another job. I don’t want you to be this stressed out, they hire multiple people so no one should have to holding down the fort alone. They should be there to answer your questions— if they didn’t know how to help, they should at least try, or get someone else to help. Listen, you’re doing your best. And even if that seems like bare minimum to you, your bare minimum is your coworkers maximum effort. They left you alone to run the place. That’s inconsiderate and scary.”

You only nodded since you were feeling the awful lump in your throat.

“You’ll be okay, this job is just one step in your career path. And…things have their way of working out. Even though it may seem difficult or impossible— nothing will stay challenging forever. Life’s full of surprises. Sometimes, we’ll have bad days. But all need to do is pick ourselves back up, do something we love that helps us feel better, you know? Watch some TV, laugh it off. Eat some candy, get some cuddles, sleep a little so we can recharge.”

Your hand opened up flat on her chest, now fully relaxed. Your breathing also calmed down, the sleepier you got.

“At the end of it all, honey— we’re just a couple of people existing on this planet trying to make it through day by day.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[gregorovitch-adler]

Beloved

"So, she's alive then. How are we feeling about that?" John asked, holding a whiskey glass in his left hand.

He knew he had wrecked everything by not denying Irene's statement: "Well, I am (gay). Look at us both."

How could he? Wasn't that the truth? Sherlock was the person John and Irene Adler had both fallen for, even though he did not comply with the sexual orientation of either of them.

Once she had hit the core of the matter with a few words, John had no option but to remain speechless; much as he would have loved to retort - just to get a one-up over her in a conversation for once.

On the contrary, John had huffed out a short laugh in approval.

What was worse, Sherlock had heard all that. He had been standing right there the whole time, revealing his presence because of that bloody text alert sound.

Meaning: Sherlock now knew how John felt for him.

John gulped down his throat at the horrifying thought.

Sherlock was holding his violin close to his neck, contemplating which tune to play next. Another song for Irene, John thought bitterly.

John had helped Mrs Hudson with her bruises from those anonymous attackers. Sherlock had taken care of those attackers on his own, and now they were probably locked up in Scotland Yard.

The point was that John had tried to approach Sherlock, wanting to clarify everything after whatever happened in the Battersea Power Station. To make things less awkward, if at all that was possible. But he had been interrupted the first time. So, he was giving it a go once more.

"D'you think you'll be seeing her again?" John pressed, unwilling to let go of this subject today, even after Sherlock's lack of response - which had led to a rather pointed silence in the sitting room.

Sherlock walked closer to the window, without even bothering to turn around. "Happy New Year, John," he said over his shoulder and began to play.

John felt physically sick in his stomach. He sipped on his whiskey, wincing at the burning sensation in his mouth. Somehow, even swallowing a sip of alcohol felt like trying to shove a large piece of rock down his throat.

By not replying to John's very direct questions, Sherlock had made it crystal clear where his interests lay. The Woman.

John had fallen for Sherlock a long time ago. He would sometimes scare himself off with the amount of seriousness he felt whenever he thought about his love for Sherlock.

He was John's beloved, in his mind at least.

Now, if Sherlock had fallen for someone else... who was John to get in the way?

John just wanted to see Sherlock happy and stable. If Irene being alive after all made him feel that, then so be it.

John sighed wistfully, looking in Sherlock's direction one last time, before he made his way to the staircase leading to his bedroom.

Subconsciously, he gripped the whiskey glass tight on his way.

***

Prompt Beloved by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @missdeliadili @lookingforlifeoutthere @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @calaisreno @curlyjohnlock .

[iamamythologicalcreature]

COC Day 8 - "Sick"

Sorry this is late. I honestly forgot I'd doodled this tiny little text ficlet. Just some randomness that popped into my head with this @carryon-countdown prompt.

Simon POV:

“I’m not sick.”

I sigh as I eye a wall full of homeopathic teas. Surely there’s something here, out of like 500 different herbal blends, that will help Baz out. I pick one up and read the label (like that will help). “You’re malnourished,” I murmur into my mobile as I read, “which I could fix, but you don’t want to bite me.”

I can hear Baz roll his eyes. “I’m fine, Snow. And I don’t get sick, so you don’t have to cure me.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Maybe this one? Is echinacea beneficial to stubborn blood-starved vampires? Maybe something with more iron in it. Maybe I should be stuffing supplements down his throat.

“I don’t get sick. I’m a dark creature of the night.”

I love how he uses that excuse like it isn’t at least partly responsible for his current condition. Prat. “You fainted.”

There’s a pause, then Baz mutters, “I took a strategic break from consciousness.”

I snort. I’m going to stuff him with iron supplements, then kiss him stupid. “You like green tea, right?”

Baz lets out a beleaguered sigh, which has a sort of honking cadence to it over the phone. “I’m not sick.” A pause. Then, “But I do like green tea.”

Right. Into the basket with that blend. “If I ‘took a break’ the way you did this morning, you’d have had me at Dr. Wellbelove’s within the hour.”

“That’s different.”

Red meat. I could do steak. I’m pretty decent at grilling. And if all else fails, Baz needs practice putting out fires, right? “Really not,” I say after a second. “I’m getting you protein powder, too.”

“That’s barbaric, Snow.”

“Oh, I’ll show you barbaric, Pitch,” I say with a smile. “But only if you drink your tea, and your protein shake, and top it all off with twice as many rodents as usual. And if you ask nicely.”

A pause. “I’m still not biting you.”

Was that hesitation? My altruistic desire to help Baz suddenly seems like a potential opportunity. I dump three flavours of protein powder into my basket, including one I know has the consistency of ground chalk. “Promises, promises, Baz.”